Chapter 2

With the Wolfsbane Necrosis fully erupting in my system, every breath felt like swallowing crushed glass.

Ahead lay a black swamp choked by a toxic miasma—the border of the rogue wolves' territory.

Over a dozen rogues stood waiting, their eyes gleaming with cruel greed. Cullen stood a short distance away under a black umbrella. He had come personally to oversee the handover, ensuring these savages' fury would be appeased.

Just as the guards were about to shove me across the borderline, a shrill scream tore through the rainy night.

"Wait! Alpha Cullen, please, spare Ayla!"

I struggled to turn my head. My parents were stumbling out from the depths of the forest, running toward us.

They were covered in bruises and mud from tripping. My mother was tightly clutching a heavily wrapped document in her hands.

"Step aside. This is the pack's decision. It is not open for debate." Cullen looked coldly down at my parents as they threw themselves at his feet.

"Alpha, Ayla is sick! She has terminal Wolfsbane Necrosis, her healing abilities are completely gone! Here is the diagnosis," my mother scrambled forward, trembling as she held the document above her head. "And... and she just had a miscarriage! She's bleeding so much, can't you see it? If you hand her over to the rogues, she won't survive the night!"

At the mention of a miscarriage and a terminal illness, Cullen's brow furrowed sharply. His gaze lingered on my lower abdomen for a second before morphing into extreme mockery.

"To put on this act, your family has really gone to great lengths." Cullen's foot stomped mercilessly onto my mother's raised hand, grinding down hard.

My mother shrieked in agony, and the diagnosis she had been so desperately protecting dropped into the muddy water.

"Cullen!" Finding strength from nowhere, I suddenly broke free from the guards and lunged toward my mother, only to receive a heavy kick to my back that sent me sprawling back into the mud.

"Enough." Cullen glared down at me. "Ayla, do you really think that by bribing a pack doctor to write a fake medical record, and having your parents come here crying and making a scene, I would change my mind? I've been sick of your little tricks for five years now."

He bent down, roughly snatching the medical record my mother had risked everything to protect. Without even glancing at it, he applied force with both hands.

The diagnosis verifying my imminent death, the miscarriage certificate announcing the demise of our unborn child—he tore them to shreds just like that. They scattered into the stormy wind like snowflakes, instantly swallowed by the muck.

"No—!" my mother wailed in despair, sprawling on the ground to try and piece together the shredded damp paper.

Cullen wiped his fingers with his handkerchief, looking as if he had just touched some nauseating garbage.

In my mind, his inner voice transmitted through the mate bond once again:

Put away these cheap tricks, Ayla. Go take your punishment with the rogues like a good girl. Once you're pushed to the brink of despair, you'll finally realize that I am your only reliance. If you dare let your parents make a scene again, I'll banish them right alongside you.

Lying in the mud, staring at that pile of shredded paper, I suddenly burst into a laugh. The laughter violently tugged at my festering internal organs, making me cough up a massive mouthful of black blood.

"What are you laughing at?" Cullen scowled at me.

"I'm laughing at how blind your eyes are, and how completely hollow your heart is." I looked straight into his furrowed brow, my own eyes holding nothing but a dead, ashen void.

Cullen's heart inexplicably tightened under that lifeless stare. Rather than crying and begging for mercy, my resolute acceptance of death filled him with a surge of inexplicable irritation and confusion.

But I didn't say another word. Pushing through my final breath of strength, I walked straight into the rogues' territory without looking back.

The moment I was dragged into the shadows, I caught a glimpse of Griffin, the rogue leader. In his hand, he was tossing a heavy coin pouch—and peeking from the edge was the distinct crest of Selena's family.

An abandoned underground mine on the outskirts of the territory. This was the rogue wolves' camp.

I was thrown like garbage onto the gravel-strewn mud. Filthy water seeped into my still-bleeding wounds from the miscarriage, triggering a bout of violent, seizure-like spasms.

"The high and mighty Luna, reduced to rolling in the gutters." Griffin walked up to me and delivered a merciless kick straight to my abdomen!

He was still toying with the pouch bearing Selena's family crest. In his single, good eye, there wasn't a shred of grief for his supposedly dead pup—only bottomless greed and cruelty.

I curled up into a ball.

"That blind fool Cullen actually thinks you burned down my camp out of jealousy?" Griffin grabbed a fistful of my hair, forcing my head up, and barked a mocking laugh. "He has no idea that letting one sickly little pup die would earn me a massive chest of gold from Selena's family, and conveniently get rid of you, the pesky official wife. This deal is an absolute steal!"

My eyes widened in sheer disbelief, the physical agony tangling with the icy dread spreading in my heart.

So that was it... There was never any "accidental fire"! From start to finish, this was a venomous plot orchestrated by Selena, using money to bribe the rogues in order to have me killed!

Just then, Selena walked over, stepping delicately to avoid the dirty puddles in disgust.

"Your acting was quite impressive, Alpha Griffin. You had Cullen completely fooled," she chuckled lightly, tossing a black leather case onto the ground.

The case sprang open, revealing a neat row of silver nails emitting a freezing, eerie gleam. Pure silver—once pierced into a werewolf's flesh, they would directly corrode the bone marrow, cutting off all vitality and bringing about an agony worse than death.

Griffin's eye lit up at the sight of the silver nails. "Selena, you really are ruthless."

Selena crouched down, sneering in a voice only the two of us could hear.

"Are you surprised, Ayla? As long as I can completely remove you from Cullen's side, what does sacrificing a rogue pup matter? With these silver nails driven into your spine one by one, I will make sure you never stand again. You'll spend eternity crawling in the dirt like a dog! You've monopolized Cullen for far too many years; it is high time you surrendered your place."

Griffin grinned sadistically, raising a four-inch silver nail and aiming it dead at my spine.

Meanwhile, a dozen miles away in the warm, luxurious manor, Cullen was swirling a glass of red wine. Through our rapidly fading mate bond, I caught his smug, deeply arrogant thoughts:

'Judging by the time, she must be taking her punishment by now. Give it two more days, and she'll be crying and begging for my help.'