Anna's POV:

I don't know where I'm going. Don't care.

My feet carry me down street after street, the hotel far behind me. Every breath burns.

Allen's voice echoes in my head. 'She's a means to an end. Weak bloodline, weak wolf.'

I stop walking when I see the neon sign—Spike's Bar. The lights blur through my tears.

I've never been drunk in my life. Mom always said alcohol weakens a wolf's control.

'Fuck it.'

What does control matter now? What does any of it matter?

I push through the door.

The bartender slides another glass across to me. I've lost count. Three? Four?

The burn in my throat feels good. Better than the burn in my chest.

"You okay, honey?" The bartender leans forward. Her eyes are kind.

I laugh. It sounds wrong. Broken. "My fiancé was fucking my bridesmaid. In his bed. The night before our wedding."

Her expression shifts. "Oh, sweetie—"

"They have a kid." I drain the glass. "A son. I took care of him once. Thought he was adorable."

I slam the empty glass down harder than I mean to. "Another."

"Maybe you should slow down—"

"Another." My voice cracks.

She pours.

I drink until the edges of the world soften. Until Allen's face blurs into nothing. Until the pain dulls to a distant throb.

The cool night air hits my face when I stumble outside. The ground tilts beneath my feet.

I start walking again. My legs don't quite work right. Everything spins.

'Weak bloodline. Weak wolf.'

Rage surges through the alcohol haze. I'm not weak. I'm not—

My foot catches on something. I barely stay upright.

Trees loom ahead. Tall, dark. When did I get this far from the bar?

I should turn back. This is the forest. The one the staff always warns about. Dangerous. Off-limits.

But my feet keep moving forward.

'She's so much better than you.'

I want to scream. To tear something apart. To make someone hurt the way I'm hurting.

The trees swallow me whole.

The growl freezes me mid-step.

Three wolves emerge from the shadows. Their eyes reflect moonlight—yellow, predatory. Rogue wolves. The kind that prey on stragglers.

Fear cuts through the alcohol. Sharp and sudden.

"Well, well." The largest one shifts to human form. His grin shows too many teeth. "What do we have here? Little Omega, all alone."

I try to back away. My legs won't cooperate.

"She reeks of booze." Another one circles me, sniffing. "And tears. And... someone else's scent."

"Rejected, maybe?" The leader laughs. "Poor thing. Nobody wants you?"

His hand shoots out, grabs my wrist. I try to jerk away but the world tilts again.

"Get off—"

His claws extend. Press into my skin.

'This is how I die.'

The thought comes strangely calm. Maybe it's fitting. Maybe this is what I deserve for being so stupid. For trusting Allen. For not seeing—

A roar splits the night.

The rogue's grip vanishes. I stagger, nearly fall. There's movement—fast, violent. Snarling. The wet sound of flesh tearing.

Then silence.

I blink hard, trying to focus. The rogues are gone. No—not gone. On the ground. Not moving.

A man stands over them. Tall. Broad-shouldered. His eyes are still glowing—brilliant green, like nothing I've ever seen.

Alpha.

The thought filters through my drunk haze. This is an Alpha.

He turns toward me.

My breath catches.

He's... beautiful. Dark hair. Sharp jaw. Those eyes—they pin me in place, searching my face.

"You're hurt." His voice is deep. Controlled. But there's something beneath it. Something that makes my wolf stir for the first time tonight.

He moves closer. I smell blood on him—the rogues' blood. But underneath it, something else. Clean. Woodsmoke and rain and something uniquely him.

My head spins. From the alcohol. From the adrenaline. From his scent.

"Do you know where you are?" He's examining the cuts on my wrist now. His touch is gentle. Careful.

I shake my head. Words won't come.

"Do you know who I am?"

Another head shake.

His jaw tightens. Those green eyes sweep over me again—noting the tear-stained face, the alcohol smell, the blood. Something flickers across his expression. Something I can't read through the fog in my brain.

"I'm taking you somewhere safe."

'Safe.' The word sounds foreign. Nothing feels safe anymore.

He moves to pick me up. I should protest. Should tell him I can walk.

But his scent—

I lean in before I can stop myself. Press my nose to his neck and breathe deep.

That scent. It wraps around something inside me, something raw and desperate. It's nothing like Allen. Allen never smelled like this. Never made my wolf respond like this.

"What are you—" His voice has gone rough.

I don't answer. Can't answer. I just need to be closer. Need more of this scent that somehow dulls the jagged edges of my pain.

My arms find their way around his neck.

He goes very still. I feel his throat work, his Adam's apple bobbing against my cheek.

My heart pounds.

I tilt my head back. Find those green eyes staring down at me with an intensity that steals my breath.

I don't think. Don't hesitate. I just close the distance and kiss him.

For a heartbeat, he doesn't move. His lips are warm, firm. Then his hand comes up, cups the back of my head, and he kisses me back.

Fire shoots through my veins. My wolf surges—not in fear or pain, but in recognition. In hunger.

He pulls back slightly. His breathing is uneven. "Do you know what you're doing?"

The memory flashes—Allen and Daisy, tangled together, his hands on her body, his voice saying I was nothing.

I do know. Some broken, reckless part of me knows exactly what I'm doing.

I pull him back down. Kiss him harder.

His control fractures. I feel it in the way his grip tightens, in the low sound that rumbles from his chest.

"Do you understand—" he starts, but I cut him off.

"I know." My voice is rough. "I don't care."

'I don't care about tomorrow. Don't care about consequences. Tonight, I just want this.'

He lifts me easily. I wrap my legs around his waist, dizzy from more than just the alcohol now.

The world blurs around us. Then there's a door, a room, soft sheets beneath my back.

His eyes meet mine one last time. A question.

I answer by pulling him down.

His mouth claims mine again, harder this time. Demanding. My fingers tangle in his dark hair, pulling him closer.

He breaks the kiss to trail his lips down my neck. I gasp when his teeth graze my pulse point—not breaking skin, just pressure, possession, promise.

"Tell me to stop," he growls against my throat.

I arch into him instead. "Don't stop."

His hands slide under my shirt, rough palms against bare skin. I'm burning everywhere he touches. He pulls the fabric over my head and tosses it aside.

For a moment, he just looks at me. Those green eyes darken, pupils dilating.

"You're so fucking beautiful."

The words send heat pooling low in my belly. Allen never looked at me like this. Like I'm something precious and profane all at once.

I reach for his shirt. He helps me strip it off, revealing hard muscle and bronze skin. My hands explore the planes of his chest, feeling him shudder under my touch.

"I need—" My voice breaks. "I need to forget. Just for tonight."

His jaw clenches. Something flashes in his eyes—understanding, maybe. Or recognition.

"Then forget." He lowers his head, lips brushing my collarbone. "Let me make you forget everything."

His mouth moves lower. I lose track of where I end and he begins. Every touch erases Allen's voice from my head. Every kiss writes something new across my skin.

When he finally settles between my thighs, I'm trembling. From need. From anticipation. From the way he's looking at me like I'm the only thing that exists.

"Last chance," he says hoarsely. "Tell me to stop."

I pull him down. "Make me forget."

He does.

The first thrust steals my breath. Pain mixes with pleasure—sharp and overwhelming. I bite down on his shoulder to muffle the sound.

He freezes. "You're—"

"Don't stop," I gasp. "Please don't stop."

He moves slowly at first, letting me adjust. But when I wrap my legs tighter around him, urging him deeper, his control shatters.

The rhythm builds. I cling to him, nails raking down his back. The pain fades, leaving only heat and friction and the feeling of being completely, utterly consumed.

"Look at me," he commands.

I force my eyes open. Meet that burning green gaze.

"Say my name."

"I don't—" I gasp as he hits something inside me that makes stars burst behind my eyes. "I don't know your name."

His hand slides between us, finding where we're joined. The touch sends me spiraling.

"Alexander," he growls against my ear. "My name is Alexander."

The orgasm hits like lightning. I cry out, body convulsing around him.

He follows seconds later, burying his face in my neck. His whole body shakes with the force of it.

We collapse together, breathing hard. Sweat-slicked skin cooling in the night air.

I should feel guilty. Should feel ashamed.

But all I feel is finally—finally—wanted.