After My Mate Drugged Me, I Ran with His Beta

The morning light felt different. Sharper. Like I was seeing the world through new eyes, ones that finally understood what they were looking at.

I sat at the small table in my room, hands folded in my lap, waiting. The knock came at exactly seven-thirty, just like it had every morning for seven years.

"Good morning, Norah." Bria swept in without waiting for an invitation, carrying the familiar porcelain cup on its matching saucer. Steam curled from the surface, and that sweet herbal scent filled the air. The scent I'd once found comforting.

Now it made my skin crawl.

"Your supplement," she said, setting it down in front of me. Her smile was warm, concerned even. "You look tired. Rough night?"

I forced my lips to curve upward, channeling seven years of practiced submission. "Just couldn't sleep. Thank you for bringing this."

She lingered, watching me with those sharp eyes. Waiting.

I lifted the cup, letting the warmth seep into my palms. The liquid inside was pale amber, flecks of herbs floating near the bottom. Wolfsbane. The word echoed in my head, but I kept my expression neutral, grateful even.

"Drink up," Bria encouraged. "You need your strength."

I raised the cup to my lips, tilted it just enough that the liquid touched my mouth. The bitter taste made my stomach turn, but I held it there for a heartbeat before lowering the cup. "It's hot," I murmured. "I'll let it cool a moment."

Bria's eyes narrowed slightly, but then she shrugged. "Don't let it get cold. The herbs work best when warm." She turned toward the door, pausing at the threshold. "Oh, and Cassius wants to see you later. After training."

My heart stuttered, but I nodded. "Of course."

The moment the door clicked shut, I moved. The potted fern on my windowsill had been dying for months—I'd always thought I was a terrible plant keeper. Now I knew better. I poured the tea into the soil, watching the amber liquid disappear into the dark earth.

First act of rebellion. Small, but mine.

The morning dragged. I cleaned my room, folded clothes, did all the mindless tasks that filled my days. But my mind was racing, planning. Cassius would be at the training grounds until noon, drilling the new recruits. That gave me a window.

At ten-thirty, I slipped through the pack house corridors. Most wolves were outside or busy with their duties. The Alpha's study sat at the end of the east wing, its heavy oak door usually locked.

Usually.

My hands shook as I pulled the thin metal pick from my pocket—a gift from Micah years ago, when we were kids playing at being spies. I'd never thought I'd actually use it for real.

The lock clicked after three tries. I glanced over my shoulder, then slipped inside.

Cassius's study smelled like leather and pine, masculine and commanding. His desk dominated the room, all dark wood and sharp angles. I moved toward it, my heart hammering so loud I was sure someone would hear.

The drawer. The one I'd seen him lock away papers in countless times.

Another lock. Another few precious seconds of fumbling with the pick. Then it gave, and I pulled the drawer open.

A leather-bound ledger sat on top of a stack of documents. My fingers trembled as I lifted it, opened the cover.

The first entry was dated seven years ago. The day after I'd arrived at the pack house as Cassius's promised mate.

*Subject: Norah Carter. Initial assessment: Suppressed royal aura detected. Bloodline likely descended from the lost Silvercrest line. Recommendation: Immediate suppression protocol to prevent full awakening. Dosage: 0.5ml wolfsbane extract, administered daily via morning beverage.*

The words blurred. I blinked hard, forcing myself to keep reading.

Page after page of entries. Dates, dosages, observations. Notes about my "failures" written in Cassius's precise handwriting, clinical and detached. He'd documented everything—every trial, every humiliation, every moment I'd hated myself.

*Trial 4: Subject experienced severe abdominal cramping during shift attempt. Dosage effective. Recommend maintaining current levels.*

*Trial 7: Subject showing signs of depression. Emotional vulnerability optimal for continued control.*

*Trial 10: Public humiliation successful. Pack perception of subject as weak Omega now firmly established.*

My hands clenched around the ledger, knuckles white. He'd known. From the very beginning, he'd known what I was, what I could be. And he'd systematically destroyed it.

Destroyed me.

I tucked the ledger under my arm and left the study, relocking the door behind me with shaking hands. The pack house felt different now, like a prison I'd been too blind to see.

The old creek was a fifteen-minute walk into the forest, far enough from pack territory that we could talk without being overheard. Micah was already there when I arrived, leaning against the massive oak that had been our meeting spot since we were kids.

He straightened when he saw me, his expression shifting from casual to alert in an instant. "Norah? What's wrong?"

I held out the ledger.

He took it, flipped it open. I watched his face as he read, watched the color drain from his cheeks, watched his jaw clench tighter and tighter until I thought his teeth might crack.

When he looked up, his eyes weren't the warm brown I knew. They were gold. Pure, blazing gold.

"I'm going to kill him," Micah said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"No." I stepped closer, placed my hand on his arm. "We're going to do something better. We're going to leave."

His eyes searched mine. "Leave the pack?"

"During the new moon. Three days from now. Everyone will be focused on the ceremony. We can slip away, get to neutral territory before anyone notices."

Micah was quiet for a long moment. Then he closed the ledger and handed it back to me. "I always knew something was wrong with that tea. The smell was off, metallic. I should have said something sooner."

"You couldn't have known—"

"I should have trusted my instincts." His hand covered mine, warm and steady. "But we're going to fix this. I pledge my loyalty to you, Norah. Not to Cassius. Not to this pack. To you."

The words settled over me like a blanket, warm and safe. For the first time in seven years, I didn't feel alone.

"Three days," I said. "Can you get supplies? Food, money, anything we'll need?"

"I'll handle it." His thumb brushed across my knuckles. "We're getting you out of here. And when your wolf finally wakes up, when you're free of that poison, Cassius is going to realize exactly what he threw away."

I looked down at the ledger in my hands, at seven years of systematic abuse documented in neat, clinical handwriting. Then I looked back at Micah, at the gold still flickering in his eyes, at the strength he'd always hidden to stay by my side.

"Three days," I repeated. "And then we run."