The Rejected White Wolf and Her Lycan King

Harper POV:

I returned to the mansion—a sprawling mausoleum of glass and steel. My hands shook, but my mind was razor-sharp.

I went straight to my study and pulled out my hidden laptop. I navigated to the Inter-Pack Relations portal.

Application for Rogue Status.

Going Rogue was a death sentence for most. No protection, no money, hunted by everyone. But for me, it was the only exit door.

I filled out the form with my left hand.

Reason for leaving: Irreconcilable differences.

The system flashed: Processing time: 10 Days.

Ten days. The exact countdown to the Royal Moon competition deadline.

I peeled off the black leather glove. The skin was scarred, twisted, pale. The silver from Gianna's dagger hadn't just cut flesh; it had poisoned the nerves. My fingers were stiff, frozen in a permanent, useless claw.

"I will be your hands," Bennet had said back then. Lies. He wanted me crippled.

The thwup-thwup-thwup of a helicopter rotor cut the air. He was back.

I hid the laptop under a loose floorboard and composed my face.

Bennet walked in smelling of lake water and her.

"Harper!" He flashed that charming Alpha smile. "Why didn't you come? I waited."

"Migraine," I lied flatly. "My hand was throbbing."

His expression shifted to performative concern. He crossed the room and pulled me into a hug. I held my breath, trying not to gag at the scent of Gianna clinging to his shirt.

"My poor broken bird," he cooed. "I have something to help. Come."

He flew us over the territory to a cliff overlooking the ocean. A new structure stood there.

A glass house. Isolated. Beautiful. Empty.

"The Golden Cage," Bennet said proudly, helping me down. "I built it for you. It's safer here. No stairs. No sharp edges. Just you and the view."

It was a prison.

He pulled out a ring. A massive yellow diamond.

"Happy Anniversary," he said, sliding it onto my left ring finger.

A sharp sting bit into my skin. Not the electric spark of a Mate bond, but a chemical burn.

"It hurts," I tried to pull it off.

"Leave it," Bennet commanded, his voice dropping into the Alpha register. My muscles locked up against my will. "The band releases a micro-dose of Wolfsbane. It'll keep your wolf sedated. Helps with the phantom pains."

He was actively poisoning me to keep me weak.

"And," he tapped the stone, "it has a tracker. So I never lose my favorite possession."

His phone buzzed. He glanced at it, eyes softening in a way they never did for me.

"Border patrol issue," he lied. "I have to go."

"Stay here," he kissed my forehead. "Enjoy your new home."

He lifted off, leaving me alone on the cliff. The wind whipped my hair, and the ring burned like a brand.

A movement near the tree line caught my eye. A Rogue wolf, thin and ragged, trotted out. It looked at me, then turned and ran freely into the forest.

I looked at the glass walls. That starving Rogue had more freedom than the Luna of Blackwood.

Ten days. I just had to survive ten days.