Cold water hit my face.

My eyes flew open, and I immediately regretted it. Every part of my body screamed in agony. My shoulder, where I'd been bitten, throbbed with deep infected heat. My face was swollen, one eye barely opening. My ribs, definitely broken.

The entire pack was gathering around me. All three hundred of them.

I wasn't in the dungeon anymore. I was still in the pack square, still tied to the whipping post. Dawn had come, and with it, my execution.

"Wakey, wakey, murderer."

Alpha Marcus stood on the raised platform with Jaxon beside him. Both looked down at me with the same cold disdain.

"Kira, orphan and murderer," Marcus's voice carried across the square, "you have been found guilty of attempted escape and of disturbing the peace during my son's celebration."

"I didn't—" My voice came out as a croak. "Please, I just—"

"Silence!" His Alpha command pressed down on me, forcing my mouth shut. "The punishment for your crimes is thirty lashes with silver. To be administered publicly, so all may see what happens to those who defy this pack's authority."

Thirty lashes. I wouldn't survive thirty lashes. Not without a wolf to heal me.

"Please," I begged, looking past Marcus to Jaxon. "Please. We were friends once. You know me."

"We were never friends." Jaxon's voice was flat, emotionless. He wouldn't even look at me. "You were a charity case my father took pity on. Nothing more."

Each word was a knife. But worse was Elena, standing beside him with her hand possessively on his arm, her smile sharp and satisfied.

"Thirty lashes seems merciful," Elena said sweetly. "Considering what she tried to do."

"Elena's right," someone in the crowd called. "Should be more!"

Others agreed. I looked out at the sea of faces, three hundred wolves I'd served for ten years, and saw only hunger for my suffering. Not one looked away. Not one protested.

No one cared if I lived or died.

"Begin," Marcus ordered.

A warrior stepped forward with a silver-tipped whip.

The first lash cut off my words and replaced them with a scream. Fire. Pure fire across my back, the silver burning deep into my skin.

"One," he counted.

I gasped, tears already streaming down my face. Through my blurred vision, I looked at Jaxon. He was staring straight ahead, jaw tight.

The second lash crossed the first, creating an X of agony.

"Two."

I remembered being seven years old, new to the pack, terrified. Jaxon had found me crying behind the pack house. "Don't cry," he'd said, offering me half his sandwich. "You're safe here. I promise."

That boy was gone.

By the fifth lash, I was screaming. I couldn't help it. The pain was overwhelming. Each strike tore through skin and muscle, the silver poisoning my blood, making everything burn from the inside out.

"Please stop!" I sobbed. "Please, I'm sorry!"

"Ten."

The crowd watched in heavy silence now. Some looked uncomfortable. Most didn't. Elena watched with hungry eyes, her fingers digging into Jaxon's arm.

And Jaxon... for just a second, his eyes closed. Just a flicker, like he couldn't watch. My heart leaped. Maybe there was still something human in him. Maybe—

His eyes opened. Met mine. And the coldness in them froze that hope instantly.

"Continue," he said clearly.

The hope hurt worse than the whip.

"Fifteen."

My vision started to blur. Blood ran down my back in rivers, pooling on the ground beneath me. I could barely hold myself up anymore, my arms screaming from being suspended.

This is how I die, I thought distantly. Alone. In pain. With everyone watching and no one caring.

I didn't even have a last name for them to remember. I'd die as nothing. Kira the murderer. Kira the reject. Just... Kira. Nameless. Worthless.

"Twenty."

Something inside me shifted. Maybe it was the blood loss. Maybe it was accepting death. But suddenly, I wasn't crying anymore.

I was angry.

I'd spent ten years apologizing for existing. Ten years accepting punishment for defending myself. Ten years letting them break me piece by piece. And for what? For this? To die in a pack square while the man the Moon Goddess chose for me watched and did nothing?

While three hundred people watched and felt nothing?

No.

"Twenty-one."

I lifted my head, forcing my good eye open, and looked directly at Jaxon. His eyes met mine, and I saw that flicker again. Guilt? Regret?

It didn't matter anymore.

"I hope," I said, my voice raspy but clear, "that you remember this moment. I hope when you're Alpha, when you have everything you wanted, you remember the day you tortured your fated mate and threw her away."

"Shut up," the warrior snarled, bringing the whip down harder.

"Twenty-two."

But I didn't shut up. I kept my eyes on Jaxon. "The Moon Goddess chose me for you. And you rejected her gift. You rejected her." I smiled, tasting blood. "I wonder what she'll think of that."

"Enough!" Elena shrieked. "Gag her!"

"Twenty-three."

The next lashes blurred together. I lost count. Lost awareness of everything except pain and the cold morning air and the feeling of my blood soaking into the earth.

And the terrible realization that I would die here, and tomorrow these people would go about their lives like I'd never existed. Like I'd never mattered.

Because I hadn't. Not to them.

Not to anyone.

Then it stopped.

"Thirty."

Someone cut the ropes. I collapsed forward, my face hitting blood-soaked ground. I couldn't feel my back anymore. Couldn't feel much of anything.

"Get her out of pack territory," Marcus ordered. "If she's found on our lands after sunrise, kill her on sight."

Hands grabbed me and dragged me through the square, past all those silent faces. Past Jaxon, who'd turned away like I'd already stopped existing.

They dropped me at the border marker, the line of stones separating pack territory from unclaimed forest.

I lay there, face down in the dirt, and realized I couldn't move. My body simply wouldn't obey. Everything hurt too much. The silver poisoning was spreading, making my vision swim, making my heart beat wrong.

This is it. This is where I die. Alone. Nameless. Forgotten.

But then I heard it. A whisper. Not my wolf, she was too far gone. Just a tiny voice, weak and distant.

"Get up."

"I can't," I whispered back.

"Get. Up." Stronger now. "We didn't survive ten years just to die here. GET UP."

My fingers twitched. Then my hand. I pressed my palm flat against the ground and pushed.

Agony exploded through my body, but I moved. Just an inch. Then another.

I was crawling. Actually crawling, dragging my broken body forward through the dirt and leaves. Blood marked my path behind me. Each movement was torture. But I didn't stop.

I wouldn't give them the satisfaction of dying where they could find my body. Wouldn't let them say they'd broken me completely.

I crawled.

Time lost meaning. The sun rose higher. Birds sang. And I crawled.

My vision narrowed to just the ground in front of me. Just the next inch. The next movement. That was all that existed. The need to move forward. To survive. To prove them all wrong.

"That's it," that tiny voice encouraged. "Keep going. Just keep going."

I didn't know where I was going. Didn't know if there was anywhere safe for a wolfless, broken girl. But I knew I couldn't stop.

If I stopped, I died.

So I crawled.

Hours, maybe. The forest grew thicker. Darker. The sounds of Shadowmoon Pack faded behind me until all I could hear was my own ragged breathing and the rustle of leaves.

No one would look for my body. No one would care that I was gone. I'd just be forgotten, like I'd never existed at all.

That thought should have hurt. Somehow, it didn't anymore. I'd accepted it.

My arms finally gave out. I collapsed, face down, unable to move another inch.

"No," that voice whimpered. "No, please, we're so close—"

"Close to what?" I whispered. There was nothing out here. No one. Just trees and death and silence.

But then I smelled it. Smoke. Woodsmoke, the kind that came from hearth fires and warm homes and people.

With the last of my strength, I lifted my head.

Through the trees, maybe a hundred yards away, I could see buildings. A village. A settlement of some kind. And I could feel it, the hum of pack energy. Different from Shadowmoon. Stronger. Older.

I'd crossed into someone else's territory.

"Help," I tried to say, but no sound came out. My vision was going black at the edges, my body finally shutting down from blood loss and silver poisoning and pure exhaustion.

I was dying.

I knew it with absolute certainty as I lay at the border marker, my hand barely touching the carved stone. The silver poisoning had spread too far. My body was shutting down.

At least it will be over soon.

"Movement at the border!"

"Check it out!"

Voices. Distant. Coming closer.

I tried to move, to hide, but my body wouldn't obey.

"Moon Goddess! There's someone here!"

"Get the Alpha King. NOW!"

No. Not an Alpha. Please, not another Alpha.

I tried to crawl away but only managed to twitch my fingers.

"Easy, easy." A woman's voice. Hands touching me gently. "Don't move. You're safe now."

Safe. That word meant nothing.

More footsteps. Running. Heavy boots hitting stone.

And then power.

It rolled over me like a wave, making every hair on my body stand on end. Ancient. Overwhelming. Alpha in a way that made Marcus seem like a child playing at dominance.

I whimpered despite myself.

"Move aside." The voice was deep, commanding. Male.

No. Please no.

"Your Majesty, she's in bad shape. The silver poisoning, she won't survive transport to the healing wing."

A pause. Then: "Then I'll carry her myself."

Before I could process that, hands slid under me. Gently, despite their size and strength. I was lifted, cradled against a chest that radiated heat.

The movement sent agony screaming through every nerve. I cried out, a broken sound.

"I know. I'm sorry." The voice rumbled above me, through me. "Just hold on. Please hold on."

Please. Alphas didn't say please. Didn't apologize for causing pain.

I forced my eyes open just a crack and saw his face.

Handsome. Hard. A scar through one eyebrow. Black hair. And eyes... gold eyes, burning bright, looking down at me with something I couldn't name.

And then I felt it.

A pull. A snap. A golden thread suddenly connecting us, warm and right and terrifying.

Mate bond.

No. NO. Not again.

I tried to fight, to push away, but I had no strength left.

"Don't," he said softly. "I won't hurt you. I swear it."

I didn't believe him. Couldn't believe him.

But I also couldn't fight anymore.

Darkness pulled at me, promising peace. Promising an end to the pain.

"Stay with me," the Alpha commanded. "That's an order. You stay with me."

"Can't," I mumbled. "Hurts."

"I know." His arms tightened around me, careful of my wounds. "But you're going to survive this. You hear me? You're going to survive."

"Why?" The word barely made it out.

"Because whoever did this to you is going to pay. I promise you that."

I wanted to tell him not to make promises he couldn't keep. Wanted to tell him that I was cursed, that pain followed me everywhere.

But the darkness was too strong.

The last thing I felt before I passed out completely was his hand touching my face so gently it made me want to cry, and his voice, low and fierce:

"You're mine now. And I protect what's mine."