Chapter 2

The guards escorted me to a guest room on the east wing of the pack house. Unlike my silver-lined cell, this room was spacious and decorated with plush furniture and warm colors. The window overlooked the forest beyond the pack grounds—a cruel reminder of the freedom I lacked.

"You're to stay here until further notice," the guard said before closing the door. I tested the handle immediately after he left. It wasn't locked.

I wasn't a prisoner. I was a guest.

The irony wasn't lost on me.

Hours passed as I paced the room, my mind racing with plans and possibilities. Without the silver to weaken me, I could feel my strength slowly returning. My wolf stirred within me, restless after years of suppression.

When night fell, I slipped out of the room. The pack house was quiet, most members either asleep or still celebrating the interrupted ceremony. I needed to understand what had happened in my absence—what Delilah had done with my life.

The library door was ajar, a sliver of light spilling into the darkened hallway. I pushed it open silently, slipping inside. The room smelled of old books and leather, a comforting scent that reminded me of happier times.

A massive table dominated the center of the room, covered with maps and documents. I moved closer, my heart stopping when I recognized the detailed war strategies marked across the territory borders. The handwriting wasn't Delilah's flowing script—it was mine. Or rather, a careful copy of my own notes.

"These look familiar, don't they?"

I whirled around to find Delilah leaning against the doorframe, a smug smile on her face.

"You stole my work," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

"I merely... borrowed your research." She stepped into the room, closing the door behind her. "Those journals were quite detailed. Strategic thinking was never my strength, but I have an excellent memory."

"You burned them." It wasn't a question.

"Once I memorized everything useful." She traced her finger along the edge of the map. "No one will believe you anyway. You're just the mad ex-mate, locked away for your own good."

I clenched my fists, feeling my nails dig into my palms. "Beckham will see through you eventually."

"Will he?" Delilah laughed, the sound like breaking glass. "He believes what I tell him to believe. Besides, who would choose a defective mate over a proven strategist?"

---

That night, I lay awake in the unfamiliar bed, staring at the ceiling. The door opened without a knock, and Beckham's scent filled the room before he did.

"You shouldn't be here," I said, not bothering to sit up.

"I needed to see you." He moved closer, his presence overwhelming in the small space. "You look better than I expected."

"Three years in a silver cage will do that to a person."

He winced as if I'd struck him. "Rebecca, I did what was best for the pack."

"And what was best for me?" I finally looked at him, searching for any trace of the man I'd once loved.

"You need time to adjust." He reached for me, his fingers brushing my arm.

I flinched violently, pulling away from his touch. "Don't."

"The bond—"

"The bond you didn't have the courage to complete?" I cut him off, sitting up to put distance between us.

His scent was wrong—tinged with Delilah's floral perfume. The realization hit me like a physical blow, and I turned away, fighting a wave of nausea.

"You smell like her," I said flatly.

Something flashed in his eyes—possessiveness, not remorse. "She's my chosen mate."

"Then why are you here?" I asked, meeting his gaze steadily.

"Because you're still mine." His voice dropped to a whisper. "The rejection wasn't completed. You feel it too—the pull between us."

I laughed bitterly. "What you feel is possession, not love."

---

Two days later, Beckham announced I would be allowed to join the pack run—a concession to appearances, nothing more.

"Stay with the group," he warned as we gathered at the edge of the forest. "No one wants another incident."

I nodded stiffly, aware of the guards positioned strategically around me. This wasn't freedom—it was a performance.

As we ran, I felt my wolf surge with joy at the sensation of earth beneath our feet. For the first time in years, I was moving, breathing fresh air, feeling the forest around me.

I noticed Delilah watching me from across the clearing, her eyes narrowed in calculation. She made a subtle gesture to three enforcers, who gradually shifted position.

"Keep up," one of them growled as they steered me away from the main group.

"Where are we going?" I asked, suddenly alert.

"The Alpha said you needed exercise." Another enforcer pushed me forward. "This way is more... challenging."

I realized too late what was happening. The trees grew denser as we moved farther from the pack. The scent of rogues—unwashed, aggressive wolves without pack allegiance—hung heavy in the air.

"Delilah sends her regards," the third enforcer whispered as they suddenly veered away, leaving me alone at the edge of the border.

I stood frozen as howls erupted in the distance—rogues, drawn by the scent of a lone wolf.