Chapter 2

Avelis’s POV

The cabin at the edge of the territory smelled of mildew. Varkean had built Nivara a climate-controlled wing in the Packhouse, yet he still kept me here.

“This is where our journey started,” he always said. Without my excuses, it looked less like a home and more like the place he stored his backup mate.

Beneath the mattress lay my old silver dagger. The winged-wolf crest on its hilt was the same crest that had flashed inside the Moonstone. Six years ago, I had hidden the blade, my aura, and my past because I believed Varkean would keep his promise.

My phone vibrated. A notification from the Pack Social network.

It was Nivara. A photo showcasing the sterile luxury of the Alpha's private den, featuring a silver platter of perfectly seared, Alpha-kill venison.

Caption: Varkean says the pack healers aren't attentive enough, so he’s hand-feeding me himself to build my wolf's strength.

I had not eaten all day to fit into his ceremonial dress. He was hand-feeding Nivara the best meat in the pack.

I opened a duffel bag. The cheap collar he called “modest” went into the trash. So did the shapeless sweaters he preferred because they made me look harmless.

I packed the dagger and what little I wanted to keep, then locked the cabin behind me.

The following morning, I strode directly into the Packhouse command center.

“Look who it is,” the Head Omega sneered. “Has the Secret Mate fantasy finally worn off?”

I released a fraction of my suppressed aura. The Head Omega’s knees hit the floor, and her wolf forced her to bare her neck to me.

I didn't spare her a second glance, pushing through the heavy oak doors of the Beta's office. Beta Brennar was lounging with his combat boots on the desk, laughing at a tablet.

I slammed a blood-sealed parchment onto his mahogany desk. "My Declaration of Severance. I'm going Rogue. Effective immediately."

Brennar scoffed, barely looking at it. "Throwing a tantrum over last night, Avelis? Varkean was saving a life. Stop being so desperate for attention."

"Sign the seal," I demanded, my eyes flashing a dangerous gold.

Brennar glanced at the silver seal and frowned. “This isn’t a Bloodmoon mark.” Then he laughed. “Did you buy a noble seal from a traveling merchant? Go back to your cabin.”

Before I could correct his fatal misconception, Varkean stormed into the office. He reeked of Nivara’s vanilla scent and exhaustion.

"Avelis!" Varkean barked, his eyes darting to my duffel bag. "Nivara is still weak, and you’re pulling this stunt? Go back to the cabin."

"That isn't a home, Varkean," I replied, noting for the first time how pitifully weak his Alpha aura felt against mine. "It's a cage."

Noticing the lower-ranking guards watching, Varkean quickly masked his anger with a patronizing, controlling smile. "Your wolf is just emotional right now," he whispered, adjusting my jacket with a menacingly tight grip. "Stop making a scene. Where would an unmarked stray like you even go? I'll set up a private hunt tonight to make it up to you, and we’ll forget this paperwork."

I almost laughed. He had no idea how far I could go—or who was already waiting for me beyond his border.