Chapter 1

"Say it."

The man ordered me to.

His voice was hoarse, and his breath lingered hot against my neck.

I bit down hard on my lower lip as my fingers clawed into the bedsheets beneath me.

It was too deep.

The Cyril Biles in front of me was nothing like the restrained man from earlier. He was like a beast teetering on the edge of a rut. There was no tenderness in his movements, only a raw release and ruthless possession.

"Talk, Sylvia." He suddenly grabbed my chin. His grip was so strong it felt like my bones might break. "Aren't you usually good at crying out loud? Tell me—who am I?"

I couldn't see anything in the darkness.

A black silk ribbon covered my eyes. It was tied in a knot behind my head.

"Cyril? You're Cyril."

My answer came out shaky as my voice was cracking.

Even though it hurt badly, I still forced myself to lift a hand, reaching for Cyril's broad and muscular back.

I just wanted to calm him down.

I knew the pack had been under pressure lately. The fighting had intensified, and as Alpha, the weight on him was immense.

I was just an Omega. I didn’t have a wolf. Aside from this body and the pheromones that could soothe him, I had nothing else to offer.

As long as he needed me, as long as I could ease his headaches, I was willing to endure anything.

At my answer, he let out a short and low laugh from deep in his throat, but his movements only grew harsher, laced with an inexplicable anger.

It felt almost like punishment.

Sweat slid down my forehead and soaked into the silk ribbon.

The violent movement loosened the knot behind my head, and it slipped free.

Light spilled in, and I instinctively opened my eyes. I saw the face above me. It was Cyril's face, with a well-defined nose and a firm mouth, carrying that unmistakable air of authority.

However, something was wrong with his eyes.

Cyril's eyes were usually a calm gray-blue, composed and unreadable. The eyes staring down at me now were blown wide and bloodshot, burning with fury.

This wasn't Cyril.

It was Cedric Biles, Cyril's twin brother. He was the one the pack called the mad dog.

Fear slammed into my chest.

My mouth fell open. Instinct screamed at me to cry out and to shove the terrifying man off me.

From a shadowed corner of the room, slow clapping suddenly broke the silence.

The sound wasn't loud, but it froze me where I was.

I turned toward it and saw Cyril sitting there.

He wore a neat black shirt that was buttoned all the way up to the collar. In one hand, he held a glass that was half-full of red wine, his long fingers idly swirling it as he watched with a calm and detached expression.

My mind went blank, and a low ringing filled my ears.

What was actually happening?

Was Cyril here too? Had he been here the whole time?

"That already came loose?"

Cyril took a sip of his wine. His gaze didn't linger on my naked body at all. Instead, it flicked to the black ribbon at my throat. With a trace of mockery in his eyes, he said, "Looks like next time I'll have to tie a proper knot."

He set the glass down and propped his chin on his hand, clearly bored, then spoke to Cedric, who still hovered over me. "Since she's seen it, there's no point pretending anymore."

He added calmly, "Cedric, hurry up. Don't delay what actually matters."

Every word pierced my ears, shredding the part of my heart that had loved him so humbly and desperately.

So this was it. To Cyril, I wasn't even a hidden lover.

I was just… a toy shared between the two brothers.

Cedric no longer bothered suppressing his voice. That identical face twisted into a vicious grin.

He grabbed my throat, forcing my head up so I had to look at him.

"See it clearly now?" he whispered into my ear, malice dripping from every syllable. "Every time I fucked you until your eyes rolled back and you screamed 'Cyril'—didn't this body feel especially useful, huh?"

I wanted to vomit.

My stomach churned violently, but I couldn't make a sound. His fingers were locked around my throat, leaving me only able to make hoarse and broken gasps.

I didn't understand why.

For three years, even without a name and status, I had stayed by Cyril's side willingly.

I used my blood as medicine for him. I fought off my exhaustion night after night to massage his head. I thought… Well, I thought he cared—even just a little.

Cedric didn't give me time to think. With a brutal thrust, he finished, releasing hot, white liquid inside me. Then, he pulled out and shoved me aside without hesitation.

"Disgusting." He frowned in distaste, grabbing a corner of the sheet to wipe his fingers.

My hands trembled as I tried to find my clothes on the floor.

In my panic, my fingers brushed against a stiff paper bag.

Inside were the knee guards. It had taken me a full month to make them. I had pricked my fingers countless times with the needle and even spent all my remaining savings to buy good beast hide.

Cyril had sustained an old injury to his knee, causing it to always hurt whenever it rained.

I had wanted to surprise him.

"Cyril…" Tears blurred my vision. My voice was hoarse as I tried to ask, to understand. "Why…"

The man on the sofa finally stood.

He walked toward me with long strides as his leather shoes thudded heavily against the floor. He stopped in front of me and looked down. Then, an overwhelming pressure crashed on me.

"Get on your knees!"

It was an Alpha command.

As the leader of the pack, his orders were absolute law to low-ranking werewolves.

My body moved against my will. My knees slammed hard into the floor.

Pain exploded through them, but I couldn't even bend down to clutch them. I could only kneel there as I was forced to look up at him.

Cyril lifted his foot and kicked the paper bag over.

The gray knee guards rolled out.

"What's this?"

Cedric walked over while fastening his belt, then stepped onto them, grinding his heel down hard. "Are these for Cyril? You really think something sewn by a filthy Omega like you deserves to touch an Alpha's legs?"

He bent down and patted my face, which was soaked in sweat.

"Know where you stand, Sylvia. Your only value is that your blood and fluids can ease pain.

"Otherwise, why would Cyril or I ever touch you? Don't flatter yourself. And don't covet things that were never meant for you."

They finished dressing quickly.

Cyril fastened his cufflinks, his expression returning to its usual distant and untouchable calm. "I'll be marrying Elena Hunter as my Luna next week. She is my mate."

His voice was steady, as if he were discussing the weather. "As for whatever shameful thing this was between you and me, I don't even want a whisper of it before the Luna's coronation ceremony. Elena is frail. She can't handle any form of stimulation."

Elena Hunter was the daughter of one of the pack's great families. She was gentle and noble—the so-called crush of many werewolves.

My heart went completely cold. Even the pain faded into numbness.

"To keep her from causing trouble at the ceremony… or disturbing Elena," Cedric suggested as he adjusted his tie, his smiling gaze lingering on my neck and lips. "Cyril, how about we lock her in the dungeon? Or maybe cut out her tongue?

"That'd be safer. If she says the wrong thing in front of Elena, it'd get us into trouble."

I shrank back in terror.

Cyril was silent for a moment, then turned toward the door.

"Just keep an eye on her," he replied, pulling it open, his back as cold as his voice. "Don't kill her. Her blood is still useful. It might even serve as medicine for Elena."

Chapter 2

Cedric looked almost disappointed at Cyril's words.

He gave me one last glance and snorted softly before he followed his brother out of the room.

The door slammed shut.

Silence fell again.

As the Alpha's command weakened with distance, my body finally gave out. I collapsed to the floor, and everything inside me went numb.

The floor was cold. The chill crept up through my skin and into my bones.

The knee guards lay crushed in the corner, marked by a dirty boot print.

I didn't pick them up. 

I just stood, pulled on my torn dress, and walked out.

…

I lived in the farthest part of the pack, in the Gray Zone. It was where people like me ended up—werewolves without wolves, the broken slaves, the unwanted.

The moment I pushed open the warped wooden door, the smell of blood hit me.

"Grandma!"

In the dim light, my mute grandmother was curled on a tattered straw mat.

She was the only family I had in this world. Three years ago, if she hadn't secretly saved me that piece of bread, I would have died.

Now her frail body was shaking violently, blood spilling from her mouth.

I threw myself beside her, wiping at it in a panic, but the more I wiped, the more it kept coming.

"Save…" Grandma couldn't speak. She could only clutch at my wrist desperately.

The pack healer was packing up his bag nearby. When he saw me, he only shook his head as he said flatly, 'The poison reactivated an old injury. There's nothing to be done."

"There is! There has to be!" I cried.

I grabbed the healer's sleeve. "Please. Give her something. Anything."

He shook me off impatiently. "Ordinary herbs can't suppress wolfsbane. You'd need the bloodspirit grass from the Alpha's stores or an Alpha's blood to use as a catalyst instead."

He didn't stop there. "Do you really think trash like you has access to either?"

With that, he picked up his case and walked out without looking back.

An Alpha's blood…

I stood there, frozen, as Cyril's faces flickered through my mind.

He had just humiliated me. He had just crushed what little dignity I had left, but if it meant saving Grandma…

I closed my eyes and reached for the faint mind-link.

Because of how long I had been with Cyril and how often I had fed him my blood, there was a one-way link between us.

The moment the connection formed, I heard laughter.

"…The waist on this wedding dress is a little tight, Cyril. What do you think?"

It was Elena's voice—soft and sweet, spoiled with confidence.

Cyril answered, his voice low and even, "Then, have them alter it. If you like it, every tailor in the pack will work for you."

Something stabbed into my chest, but I ignored the pain and cried out. "Cyril. Please… save my grandmother…"

There was a brief pause on Cyril's end.

A moment later, the sounds on the other end grew loud and chaotic, as if the pack's broadcast system had been switched on.

Elena's delighted laughter boomed through the plaza speakers, echoing across the pack and spilling even into this broken little room.

"This is Elena. My wedding to Cyril is next week, and everyone in the pack is invited. On our wedding night, our Alpha Cyril will light fireworks for me all night long. I'll be the happiest Luna in the world."

When the announcement ended, cheers erupted throughout the pack.

Here, there was only Grandma's ragged breathing.

"Cyril…" I sobbed through the mind-link. "I know you can hear me. Just a little blood… or let me take one herb from the stores. Please…"

"Shut up!" Cedric's voice exploded in my head, sharp with irritation and disgust. "What is wrong with you? You'd even make up something like this just to get Cyril's attention?"

"It's not a lie. Grandma is really dying—"

"Enough," Cyril cut in, his voice cold. "Sylvia, stop humiliating yourself. Today is Elena's fitting, and I won't let anything spoil it."

The mind-link cut off without warning.

A sharp pain tore through my head, and I collapsed, clutching my head.

Elena's laughter still echoed from the broadcast.

I crawled back to the mat and took Grandma's hand.

Her hand had gone cold.

Grandma looked at me, and her eyes slowly went dull. 

She didn't seem afraid. With what little strength she had left, she reached into her clothes and pressed something into my palm. It was a small whistle carved from bone, rough and weathered.

Her lips moved as if she were trying to speak.

I knew what she was trying to say.

She was trying to say, "Run."

Then, her hand fell still.

I held Grandma's stiffening body, but I didn't cry. Whatever tears I had left had been wrung out of me by that last rejection.

I just sat there, staring, listening to the cheerful music still playing over the broadcast, and thinking how twisted this world was.

I didn't know how much time had passed before the door creaked open.

A chill swept in, and I squinted.

A tall figure stood in the doorway. He was wrapped in a ragged cloak.

"Who are you?"

I stiffened and stepped in front of Grandma's body.

He didn't say a word. He looked at her body on the floor, then at me, and quietly picked up the shovel leaning against the wall.

He lifted Grandma and carried her outside.

That was when I understood what he meant to do.

The ground behind the house was frozen hard. I didn't understand why he was helping me. In this pack, no one wasted effort on a dead slave.

…

When the grave was finished, he laid her inside, filled it in, and marked it with a simple wooden board.

When he was done, he planted the shovel in the ground and turned to leave.

"Why did you help me?" I asked.

The timing felt too precise. Why now, of all moments?

Had he been watching me all this time? The thought barely stirred anything in me. I just wanted to know why.

He paused and turned his head.

Beneath the hood, I caught the hard line of his jaw, dark with stubble.

"Six months ago, in the back alley, you shared half your bread with me."

His voice was low and flat. Then, he disappeared into the dark trees.

I stood before the lonely new grave, gripping the bone whistle so tightly that its sharp edge cut into my palm. Blood welled up and stained it red.

Then a faint stir moved through my belly. It was a strange sensation, like something waking inside my blood, brushing softly against me from within.

I pressed my mud-stained hand to my stomach.

Two tiny lives were beating there, stubborn and fragile.

I was with pup.

Now, of all times… I was with pup?

But I knew Cyril and Cedric would never let me keep them.

I had already lost Grandma. I couldn't lose my pups, too.

In the distance, the pack glowed with light.

Next week was Cyril and Elena's wedding.

And at that moment, only one thought filled my mind—I had to run, carrying my pups away from this place.

Chapter 3

The moment I came down from the hills, two guards in black armor blocked my path.

They didn't give me a chance to run. They grabbed my arms—one on each side—and dragged me toward the house.

The living room was brightly lit.

Elena was dressed in a silk robe, leaning against Cyril's chest with a cup of warm milk in her hands.

Cedric sat off to the side, peeling an apple. The small knife spun quickly between his fingers.

When I was brought in, Elena immediately turned her face into Cyril's chest, as if she had smelled something foul.

"Sylvia?" She glanced at me several times, waving a hand in disgust. "Why do you smell like mud and blood? It's awful."

Cyril frowned. "Wash up and come back after that," he said disdainfully.

"Wait." Elena tugged at his sleeve, smiling sweetly. "It's a good day. Don't get upset over something so small. Sylvia didn't mean it. Let her pour me some water. I'm parched."

Cyril glanced at me expressionlessly. "You heard her. Get some water."

I lowered my head and walked to the table.

The cut in my palm from the bone whistle was still bleeding, and when I touched the warm kettle, pain shot through me.

I poured a glass and held it out with both hands.

Elena reached for it, but the moment her fingers brushed the glass, she jerked back as if burned.

Her face went pale. She clutched her chest and began to retch.

A mouthful of blood burst from her lips, splattering across her robe and spraying onto the back of my hand.

The blood was dark and foul-smelling, thick with rot.

I knew I hadn't done anything. I hadn't touched her at all, but they didn't know.

"Elena!"

Two voices cried out at once.

Pain exploded in my stomach.

Cedric sprang up from the couch and drove his foot into me.

I let out a cry as the blow sent me flying, and I slammed into the wall.

For a second, I couldn't breathe. Everything inside me felt out of place.

I didn't think about the pain. I curled around my stomach, shielding it.

My pups…

"You bitch!" Cedric snarled, his eyes burning with fury. "What did you give her? Were you trying to poison her?"

He lunged toward me, then yanked me by the hair and forced me down.

My head hit the floor with a dull thud. Blood spilled down my face, blurring my vision.

"Stop." Cyril's voice cut through the room.

Cedric froze, though his boot still pinned my wrist to the floor.

Cyril was holding Elena in his arms, her body limp. He didn't even look at me.

He only checked her breathing, then turned to the healer. "What happened?"

The healer dropped to his knees, trembling. "It might be… pheromone shock. Ms. Elena is already fragile, and Ms. Sylvia's scent… it was too strong. It triggered Ms. Elena's condition."

Too strong?

Cyril frowned and finally looked at me. "If you're the one who hurt her, then you'll pay for it with your blood."

He gestured calmly, as if giving a routine order.

"Take her to the punishment room. Give her two vials of silver liquid so she can't move. Then, draw her blood until Elena wakes up."

My body began to tremble.

The silver liquid was the poison used on traitors. It drained a werewolf's strength and shut down healing completely.

"N-No… Cyril…" My voice barely came out. "I'm with pup—"

"Enough."

Cyril didn't listen. Holding Elena in his arms, he turned away and said, "Don't make me say it twice."

…

Ten minutes later, I was locked to an iron bed in the underground punishment chamber.

Silver was everywhere. For a werewolf, just being in that room felt like torture.

Two enforcers forced my head back and poured the silver liquid down my throat. It burned as it went down, tearing through me.

I gagged and tried to retch, but nothing would come up.

A sharp needle was shoved into the vein in my arm, after which the blood quickly filled one bag.

One bag followed before another one.

Cold spread through my body, and my thoughts began to blur.

Just as I felt myself slipping away, the door to the chamber opened.

Cyril walked in. He had changed into a clean shirt and was wiping his fingers with a handkerchief.

He didn't look at me. He went straight to the blood cabinet and checked the filled bags. "Is that enough?" he asked the healer.

"Yes, yes!" the healer replied respectfully, nodding. "Her blood has a calming effect. Once it's refined into a concentrated serum, Ms. Elena's condition will improve. Even her complexion will look better."

Cyril nodded, satisfied.

Just then, Elena's sweet and fake voice drifted in from outside the door. "Cyril… is she all right? I did cough up blood because of her scent, but you shouldn't punish her too hard.

She didn't stop there. "After all, I'll be the pack's future Luna. Sylvia is one of my people. I should take care of my people."

Cyril stepped out at once, his tone turning gentle as he said, "Don't worry about such trivial things."

He stood in the doorway with his back to me, but every word carried clearly.

"She's nothing but a worthless nobody. Her blood is the only thing she's good for. Since her scent bothers you, simply wait for her to bleed out and die. Then you won't ever have to look at that eyesore of a face again."

Every word Cyril said sent a chill through me.

So, this was the real him—colder and more unhinged than Cedric ever was.

Elena gave a soft cough and laughed. "That's so mean… but that does sound appealing."

Their footsteps faded away.

The only sound left in the chamber was my shallow breathing.

I lay on the iron bed and turned my head, watching the dark red blood move through the tube.

Bleed out… die…

So this was how it would end.

To them, I was worth nothing.

With the last of my strength, my fingers curled weakly and brushed the bone whistle in my palm, slick with blood.

It carried Grandma's blood and mine.

Suddenly, a warm current surged from it, spreading through my body and fighting the poisonous silver liquid in my veins—even shielding the pup in my womb.

My thoughts began to blur. It felt like falling into a dream. I was standing on a vast field of snow.

A massive moon hung overhead.

Ahead of me stood a white wolf. It was as vast as a mountain, and its fur gleamed like silver. She lowered her head, and in her golden eyes I saw my own reflection.

She didn't open her mouth, yet I heard a low and resonant call.

I don't know how long had passed before I finally opened my eyes—and with it came a rush of memory. I had never been worthless. I had never been some lowly Omega meant only to clean and bleed.

I was a white wolf.

Then, everything made sense suddenly.

My blood and my scent were powerful soothing agents to any werewolf.

And the stronger the werewolf, the more they were drawn to me.

The reason I had never been able to shift was simple. My body had been too weak to contain the white wolf's overwhelming power. That strength, along with my childhood memories, had been sealed deep in my mind.

But just now, after being pushed through unbearable pain and despair, the bone whistle Grandma left behind had reshaped my body and shattered the seal, restoring both my memories and my power.

The realization made my heart race.

I stayed still, steadying my breath as I looked out through the high vent at the night sky.

The moon was bright, missing only a thin sliver.

Three days remained until the full moon. It was also on the same day as Cyril's wedding.

I closed my eyes, tightening my grip on the bone whistle, and waited quietly for the time to pass.

Chapter 4

The next morning, the door to the chamber opened.

The enforcers dragged me out, but I didn't resist or show any signs of pain.

I simply followed them.

The sunlight outside was harsh. I had to squint for a moment before my eyes adjusted.

Cyril stood on the steps, backlit by the light, dressed in a fitted, dark gray formal suit. "Since you didn't die, go back to work."

His gaze swept over me and paused, his brow tightening at how filthy I looked.

I could tell he was disgusted.

A few seconds later, he added, "The Luna's coronation is the day after tomorrow. The altar needs to be cleaned. Elena said you do good work. She specifically asked for you."

I lowered my head, hiding the emotions in my eyes. "Alright."

The altar stood on the highest cliff in the pack's territory.

I knelt on the rough stone, wiping the altar steps inch by inch with a rag.

The bruises on my knees hadn't healed yet.

When I got on my knees, pain stabbed through them like needles.

I stiffened for only a second, then kept going.

I knew better than anyone that showing even a hint of pain wouldn't earn me any sympathy. It would only invite more mockery, but that didn't matter anymore.

I believed one thing with absolute certainty—what didn't kill me would make me stronger.

…

By noon, Cyril and Cedric arrived at the altar, flanking Elena as they walked toward me.

Elena had changed into an even more elaborate gown, her makeup flawless. The pale, sickly color she had had after coughing up blood was gone. It was now replaced by an unnatural glow.

Of course it was.

I scoffed. That glow had been fed by the white wolf's blood.

"Sylvia." Elena lifted her skirts and stepped in front of me, looking down at me from above. "Why are you on your knees? Get up and hold my crown. My coronation is the day after tomorrow. I want to rehearse."

A maid hurried over with a tray. Resting on it was the moonstone crown, the symbol of the pack's power.

I stood and took the tray in both hands.

The moment I touched it, a faint tremor ran through my fingers.

The moonstones seemed to sense my blood, warming slightly beneath my skin.

I immediately forced my power back down, lowered my head, and made myself look empty and obedient.

Elena lifted the crown and carefully placed it on her head in front of the mirror. "Do I look good?" she asked, turning toward the twins.

"You look beautiful."

Cyril stepped closer and adjusted a strand of Elena's hair, satisfaction in his eyes. "The healer was right. Those two bags of blood worked. You've never looked better," he said.

Cedric lounged against a stone railing, flicking his lighter open and shut. He gave a short laugh. "Of course. That trash Omega may be worthless, but her blood and her scent are priceless.

"I almost want to cut her open and see what makes her like this. A nobody without even a wolf, yet carrying something so rare…"

They spoke as if I weren't standing just a few steps away.

I kept a straight face and pretended not to hear.

A worthless Omega?

I was just hoping that by the time the ceremony came, their smiles would be gone.

The rehearsal dragged on all afternoon.

…

By dusk, they finally left, satisfied.

Only then was I allowed to return to the torn little tent in the Gray Zone.

When I passed the furnace beneath the altar, I stopped. It was where the ritual remains were burned.

I pulled a smooth and polished wolf-fang charm from the pocket against my skin.

To get it, I had stood in an icy river for three days in the dead of winter, dredging up the fossilized fang from the riverbed. Then, I had spent half a month grinding it down with rough sandpaper, day and night, until it was smooth.

I had meant to give it to Cyril after that night, along with the knee guards.

I wanted him to know that even if I was lowly, even if I could never be his Luna and might one day have to watch him marry another woman, I still wished him happiness.

Now, it all felt pathetic.

I loosened my grip without expression.

The wolf fang dropped into the furnace.

Flames surged up and swallowed it.

I brushed the ash from my hands and turned away into the night.

...

Back in my tent, I didn't even stop for water. I collapsed onto the battered bed.

My body was already working to heal itself, but it was draining what little strength I had left.

I needed to rest.

Half-dazed, I caught the sharp scent of alcohol and blood.

The tent flap was yanked open.

I jolted awake, and before I could even sit up, a shadow crashed down on me.

It was Cedric.

He was burning hot, his eyes glowing red in the dark, stripped of all reason. There was nothing in them but chaos and fury. "My head… Damn it…"

He growled, gripping my collar and tearing it open.