Chapter 1

It was the fifth year since I'd been exiled from the Harrington Pack when I ran into my brother at The Den—a dingy underground bar in the neutral zone.

He was the most important guest that night, throwing around thousands like it was nothing to celebrate his foster sister Sophia Lang's birthday. This wasn't even a high-end place, but he'd transformed it into a private party for the elite.

Me? I was just a waitress here—a stray trying to survive at the bottom of a world filled with rogue wolves and humans.

We didn't exchange a single word the whole night.

Not until I downed two bottles of high-proof tequila just for a $500 tip. For someone like me, already frail from years of malnutrition and the severed pack link, it was like drinking poison.

Kieran Harrington, Alpha of the Harrington Pack, sat there with his lips pressed into a thin line. His eyes—eyes that once shielded me—were now colder than frost.

His voice was flat, biting. "Nora, you'd rather grovel in a place like this, serving stray wolves like trash, than crawl back to the pack and admit you were wrong?"

"You've really brought honor to the Harrington name."

I just smiled, careless. The alcohol burned like fire down my throat. I stretched out my hand to him.

"Five hundred dollars. Cash or transfer, Alpha?"

It had been five years. I no longer cared about the old grudges.

But that five hundred dollars? It was exactly what I needed to pay off the cremation fee and the balance on the cheapest urn they had.

---

The private room fell into a dead silence. Every wolf turned to look at me, their expressions unreadable. Once, I'd been the Harrington Pack's little princess. Now I was barely standing, with sunken cheeks and hollow eyes.

Then someone snorted with laughter.

Kieran's face darkened instantly from his seat on the leather couch.

He was humiliated. The mighty Alpha of the most powerful wolf pack, watching his own sister grovel for money.

Five hundred dollars—not even enough to fill up one of his luxury cars. Yet I'd debased myself for it, choking down two bottles of liquor like a beggar.

Sophia, the foster daughter who'd taken my place beside him, leaned in closer and sneered.

"Kieran's been waiting for you to come home. And this is what you've been doing? Smelling like filth from all those stray wolves—aren't you disgusted with yourself?"

I looked at her, eyes dull and empty. "I earn my money honestly. I'm not selling my body."

She scoffed, eyes glittering with malice. "Oh, you're that desperate? Then drink two more. I'll throw in another five hundred."

As her words echoed, the other wolves around us started jeering.

"Drink up! If the future Luna's adding cash, I'll match that!"

"I'll put in a thousand! Let's see how much the ex-princess can hold!"

I didn't hesitate. My pride had long since been worn down by hunger and disease. I reached for another bottle.

The door burst open.

Mick Reilly, the bar's manager, came scuttling in with an ingratiating smile. A low-rank wolf, he nearly tripped over himself bowing toward Kieran, fear written all over him.

"Mr. Harrington, did this idiot do something wrong?"

"She's a waste without a pack link," he added quickly, pushing me aside. "Don't be mad. She's not right in the head. If—"

"Will you drink in her place?" Kieran interrupted coldly, his voice sharp as a blade.

Mick froze. Sweat broke out across his forehead. His knees nearly buckled.

He didn't want to take my side—not really—but he also didn't want me dying of alcohol poisoning in his bar. That would be a headache.

He gave a nervous chuckle. "That much tequila... even a warrior couldn't handle it. She's just a girl. Her wolf soul's practically faded."

"Then get out of my sight," Kieran snapped.

He pulled a thick stack of cash from his coat—ten grand at least—and slammed it into Mick's chest.

"If Nora doesn't leave here tonight, and you try to stop her from drinking again, this bar won't be standing tomorrow."

Mick fumbled with the money, his smile returning in full bloom. He tucked it away and scurried off, not sparing me a second glance.

All eyes turned back to me.

Kieran sneered. "What, don't want the money anymore?"

Without a word, I walked over, grabbed a bottle, and started drinking.

I'd already had two. My stomach was twisting like someone had stabbed it with a knife—one of the many curses of losing a pack link. It was the pain of a dying body.

I drank more slowly this time. The crowd laughed and jeered.

Kieran's face grew darker. The pressure in the room thickened like smoke.

When I reached for another bottle, swaying on my feet, he suddenly grabbed my wrist.

His grip was crushing, bones grinding under his fingers.

"Are you trying to die, Nora?!"

"I want the money."

I ripped my hand free and raised the bottle to my lips.

I'd already planned it.

The lights were dim. As I drank, I pretended my grip slipped.

Some of the liquor spilled, but no one noticed.

Then came the slap.

A sharp crack echoed through the room.

My head snapped to the side. The bottle slipped from my hand and was shattered on the ground, shards flying.

Kieran's roar, full of Alpha fury, rattled in my skull.

"For money, you'd stoop this low?!"

"Keep drinking, and I still won't give you a dime!"

The alcohol hit me all at once. My vision blurred. Colors danced.

And then, from the depths of memory, his voice again—the one I'd tried to bury for five long years—exploded in my ears.

"You sold the Moonstone Luna Pendant? The one our mother left? For money?! Was I starving you? Did I not clothe you? Why didn't you just sell yourself to the vampires while you were at it?!"

"Get out of this territory. From this day forward, you are no longer a member of the Harrington Pack. You are a Rogue!"