Chapter 1

The dim lighting of the back office cast long shadows across the crumpled bills scattered on Marcus Thompson's desk. I counted them for the third time, my fingers trembling as they moved across each worn note. Three years. Three years of serving drinks to rogues, of dodging unwanted advances, of suppressing my wolf to survive in this godforsaken place—and finally, I had enough.

Fifty thousand dollars. The exact amount they'd demanded for Alec's safe return.

My heart hammered against my ribs as I stacked the money into neat piles. Soon, I'd hold my son again. Soon, this nightmare would be over. The thought of Alec's face, older now but still carrying traces of the boy I'd left behind, made my chest ache with longing.

"Finally got your blood money together, sweetheart?" Marcus's gravelly voice cut through my thoughts as he entered the office, his massive frame filling the doorway.

I didn't look up. "It's all here. Every cent."

He moved to his desk chair, the leather creaking under his weight. Something in his scent—amusement mixed with something darker—made my weakened wolf stir uneasily. After three years of suppression, her senses were barely functional, but even she could detect the wrongness in the air.

"You know," Marcus said, leaning back in his chair, "I gotta hand it to your mate. This whole setup was brilliant. Really brilliant."

My hands stilled on the money. "What setup?"

Marcus chuckled, the sound sending ice through my veins. "Oh, come on, Melissa. You can't be that naive. Three years of this charade, and you never once questioned—"

His voice cut off abruptly, his eyes going distant in that telltale sign of a mind-link connection. My wolf, weak as she was, caught fragments of the mental conversation—Dean's voice, clear as day, filtering through Marcus's thoughts.

*—payment for this month. Make sure she doesn't suspect anything. The Council meeting is next week, and I can't have her showing up and ruining everything—*

The world tilted. The money in my hands felt like ash, worthless paper that mocked three years of degradation and sacrifice. My wolf howled inside my mind, a sound of pure anguish that I felt in my bones.

"No," I whispered, the word barely audible. "No, that's not... that can't be..."

Marcus's eyes refocused on me, and for the first time since I'd known him, he looked almost... sorry. "Shit. You heard that, didn't you?"

I shot to my feet, the chair clattering backward. "What payment? What are you talking about?"

He ran a hand through his graying hair, suddenly looking older than his years. "Look, sweetheart, I didn't want you to find out like this—"

"WHAT PAYMENT?" The words tore from my throat, my wolf's rage bleeding into my voice despite her weakness.

Marcus sighed heavily, reaching into his desk drawer. He pulled out a thick manila folder and tossed it across the desk toward me. "Your mate's been paying me monthly to keep you here. To maintain the story about your kid being taken. There never were any rival rogues, Melissa. Your son's been safe at home this whole time."

The folder hit the floor as my legs gave out. I sank back into the chair, my vision blurring as the truth crashed over me like a tidal wave. "You're lying."

"I wish I was." Marcus opened the folder, spreading financial records across the desk. Bank transfers, all bearing Dean's name. Monthly payments dating back three years. "He's been funding this whole operation. The fake kidnapping, keeping you working here, making sure you never had quite enough to pay the ransom until now."

My hands shook as I reached for the papers, scanning the dates and amounts with growing horror. Every month, like clockwork. Every month while I'd been serving drinks to criminals, while I'd been fighting off their advances, while I'd been slowly dying inside from the separation from my child.

"But why?" The question came out as a broken whisper. "Why would he do this to me? To us?"

Marcus's expression darkened. "Because you're not good enough for a Lycan Prince, apparently. Your mate isn't just some pack Alpha, sweetheart. He's Dean Warren, heir to the Lycan throne. And you... you're just an Omega who doesn't fit into his royal plans."

The papers fluttered from my numb fingers. Lycan Prince. The words echoed in my mind, each repetition driving the knife of betrayal deeper. Dean—my mate, the father of my child, the wolf I'd loved with every fiber of my being—had orchestrated my exile. Had watched me suffer for three years while he played the grieving mate back home.

"Harmony knew," I said, the realization hitting me like a physical blow. "She had to know."

Marcus nodded grimly. "Your pack sister's been warming his bed since month two. Real touching, how quickly she stepped up to comfort the 'abandoned' Alpha."

A sound escaped me then—part sob, part growl, part something inhuman. My wolf, weak as she was, thrashed against the bonds of our shared consciousness, demanding blood, demanding justice, demanding anything but this crushing weight of betrayal.

I stood on unsteady legs, leaving the money scattered across the desk. It meant nothing now. Less than nothing. "I need to go home."

"Melissa—"

"I need to go home," I repeated, my voice hollow. "I need to see his face when I tell him I know."

Marcus watched me with something that might have been respect. "You sure about that, sweetheart? A confrontation with a Lycan Prince... that's not something you walk away from."

I met his gaze, and for the first time in three years, I let my wolf show in my eyes. Weak or not, she was still there. Still fighting. "I'm not walking away from anything anymore."