My Mate Poisoned Me Until I Awakened Royal Blood

I walked into the Silverfang pack house through the front entrance, carrying an empty duffel bag over my shoulder.

I didn't sneak in. I had lived in this house for three years, and I was not going to creep through the back door like a thief.

Two Delta guards stood by the foyer stairs. When they saw me, their shoulders tightened. One of them looked at the floor, while the other shifted on his boots, his scent sour with awkward guilt. Other pack members cleared out of the corridor as I passed, pressing back against the paneled walls in total silence. None of them spoke. None of them tried to stop me.

I ignored every single one of them.

My goals were simple. I needed my father’s old leather-band watch from my nightstand. I needed my design sketches from the corner desk. I needed my clothes and the few personal books I had brought with me when Emmett first asked me to move into the Alpha suite. Nothing that belonged to Silverfang. Nothing that Emmett had paid for. Just what was mine.

I reached the third floor and pushed open the heavy oak door to the master suite.

Amara was lying across the king-sized bed.

She had already moved her things in. Silk dresses were thrown over the chairs, and bottles of heavy, sweet perfume cluttered the vanity. She wore a deep red robe, propped up on one elbow, leafing through a fashion magazine.

Around her neck hung a thin silver chain. At the center rested a crescent-moon pendant, finely carved from ancient river stone. My adoptive mother had pressed that pendant into my palms the night before she passed away.

Amara looked up, her lips curving into a slow, mocking smile.

"Oh," she purred, tapping a manicured nail against the stone. "Were you looking for this? It suits me better, don't you think?"

I didn't answer. I didn't raise my voice.

I dropped my bag on the floor, crossed the hardwood in three long strides, and wrapped my fingers around the silver chain.

"Hey—!" Amara gasped, scrambling backward.

I jerked my hand back with sharp, deliberate force. The clasp snapped with a clean *crack*.

The crescent stone landed in my palm. The second the pendant left her skin, the harvested scent markers clinging to the silver died. The faint, artificial aura of warmth Amara had been projecting vanished into thin air.

Out in the open corridor, two passing maids let out a sharp breath. The air in the hallway instantly cooled, dropping several degrees as the lingering trace of my bloodline stripped away completely. The unearned deference Amara had basked in for days evaporated in a single second.

Amara felt it. Her cheeks went bright red, her eyes widening in pure humiliation as she realized the wolves outside were looking at her with cold, empty eyes.

"You bitch!" Amara shrieked, scrambling off the mattress. Her face twisted into an ugly sneer. "You think you're still Luna? You're nothing! You’re a pathetic, wolfless freak! Emmett never wanted you. He came to my bed every time he couldn't stand looking at your blank, defective face!"

Her words hit the room like gravel against glass, but my pulse didn't even skip. I slipped the pendant into my coat pocket. I had survived three years of Emmett's quiet neglect; a mistress throwing a tantrum couldn't touch me.

"Pack your bags, Amara," I said quietly, turning toward my dresser. "You're going to need a lot more than my jewelry to keep this pack from falling apart."

That broke the last of her control.

Amara’s eyes darted toward the nightstand. She ripped open the bottom drawer and pulled out a heavy amber glass bottle. The pungent, bitter stench of dark wolfsbane oil hit my nose before she even popped the cork. It was the exact smell I had tasted in my morning tea for months. Emmett's personal stash.

"You think you can just walk away and let everyone watch me fail?" she hissed, her voice vibrating with manic fury. "You think you get to ruin my life?"

Before I could reach her, she tipped the bottle.

Thick, dark liquid splashed across the foot of the bed, soaked into the heavy velvet curtains, and pooled over the floorboards.

"Amara, don't—" I warned, lunging forward.

She struck a match against the nightstand.

A tiny spark flared, and the wolfsbane ignited with an explosive, blue-tinted roar. Flames shot up the curtains in a split second, licking the ceiling. The heat slammed into my face, and the chemical stench of burning wolfsbane filled the air, thick, black, and toxic. It was a flame bred to choke wolves and stop supernatural flesh from knitting together.

I whipped around, shielding my face with my arm, and sprinted straight for the open doorway.

A broad shadow blocked the exit.

Emmett stood framed in the threshold. He took in the roaring flames, the black smoke billowing into the ceiling, and the shattered glass on the floor. His gaze shifted from Amara to me.

There was no shock in his face. No panic. Just a cold, calculating stillness.

He knew the territory was collapsing. He knew his wolf was growing sicker by the hour. And in that split second, I saw the thought flash behind his dark eyes: *If Juliet dies in this room, the bond snaps permanently. No council investigation. No shame. A clean slate.*

I took one more step toward the hall. "Move, Emmett!"

Emmett planted his feet. His chest expanded, and when he opened his mouth, the full, suffocating weight of an Alpha tone slammed into the room like an iron wall.

"**Stay.**"

The biological command struck my nervous system like lightning.

My muscles locked instantly. My knees froze mid-stride, my boots glued to the burning floorboards. Every single nerve in my human body buckled under the mandatory weight of the Alpha rank, trapping me where I stood. I fought it with everything I had, straining until my teeth ached, but my body refused to obey my mind.

Amara scrambled past him into the safety of the hall, coughing and crying out in fake terror.

Emmett didn't look at her. He kept his eyes locked on mine through the rising wall of blue fire.

He didn't say another word. He reached out, grabbed the brass handle of the heavy oak door, and pulled it shut.

The latch clicked into place.

I was alone. The wolfsbane smoke curled around my throat, burning my lungs, while my silent wolf lay trapped beneath the ash.