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Wolf's Rise After Betrayal Novel Cover

Wolf's Rise After Betrayal

The applause washed over me like a warm wave as I stood on the stage, my fingers trembling slightly as they gripped the crystal award. The lights of the New York venue were almost blinding, but I couldn't stop smiling. Seven years of sleepless nights, of weaving stories into fabric, had culminated in this moment. "Thank you for recognizing my 'Interwoven Bloom' collection," I said into the microphone, my voice steadier than I felt. "This represents everything I believe about sustainable textile art and—" The massive screen behind me flickered. The audience's expressions shifted from admiration to confusion, then horror. I turned, and my world collapsed. There I was on the screen—except it wasn't me. The figure with my face was standing over the bloodied bodies of my adoptive parents, a knife clutched in her trembling hand. The footage was grainy but unmistakable.
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Chapter 2

The conversation between Ryan and Dr. Finch echoed in my mind, each word a knife twisting deeper into my heart. I needed proof—something tangible that would validate the horror I'd just discovered.

With trembling fingers, I reached for the smartphone Madison had smuggled to me during her last visit. She'd hidden it beneath the false bottom of a gift box, whispering, "Just in case." For months, it had remained untouched in my pillowcase, its purpose unclear until this moment.

*Use it now,* Aria's voice whispered, faint but urgent in my mind. *Record them.*

I fumbled with the device, my hands clumsy from years of medication. The screen illuminated my face in the darkness of my room, casting an eerie blue glow across the institutional white walls. I navigated to the recording app, pressed the red button, and slid the phone toward the air vent connecting my room to the hallway.

"...the money has been well spent, Mitchell." Dr. Finch's voice came through clearly. "Seven years of keeping her docile, suppressing her wolf. Quite the investment."

"It was necessary," Ryan replied, his tone businesslike. "Her ambition would have taken her away from me. From us."

"And the termination procedure?"

"Elena couldn't risk Sophia having my pup. It would have complicated everything."

I pressed my fist against my mouth to stifle a sob. A pup. My pup. Our pup. Taken from me without my knowledge or consent.

"The medications have worked well," Dr. Finch continued. "The staff believes she's wolfless. Makes our job easier."

"And tomorrow?"

"One final treatment before release. Electroconvulsive therapy. It will erase any remaining... complications from the termination. Clean slate."

Ryan's laugh was cold, unfamiliar. "Perfect. She'll come home with me, docile and grateful. Elena's already cleared space in the guest room."

The guest room. Not even worthy of being his mate in his home. Aria growled, the sound reverberating through my bones despite her weakness.

*He will pay,* she promised. *They all will.*

I retrieved the phone when their voices faded, clutching it to my chest like a talisman. Evidence. Proof. A weapon.

* * *

"This won't hurt, Ms. Hayes." The nurse's smile didn't reach her eyes as she secured the rubber mouthguard between my teeth. "Just a routine procedure before your release."

I was strapped to a table, electrodes attached to my temples. Dr. Finch stood nearby, making notes on his clipboard, not even bothering to look at me—the patient he'd imprisoned for seven years.

"Beginning treatment," he announced dispassionately.

The first jolt hit like lightning, arcing through my skull and down my spine. My body convulsed against the restraints, a scream muffled by the mouthguard. Inside my mind, Aria howled in agony.

*Our pup,* she cried. *They're erasing our pup.*

Another shock. White-hot pain obliterated thought. I could feel something tearing inside me—the last physical traces of the pregnancy I'd never known about, being scorched away by electricity and chemicals.

"Increase voltage," Dr. Finch ordered.

The third shock was worse. My vision fragmented into kaleidoscopic patterns of light and darkness. Aria's presence flickered like a candle in a hurricane.

*Stay with me,* I begged her. *Don't leave me alone.*

*Never,* came her faint reply. *We are one.*

When it was over, I lay limp and shaking, sweat-soaked and hollow. They'd taken everything from me—my freedom, my career, my child. But they hadn't taken Aria. And they hadn't taken my will to survive.

* * *

"Ready to go home, sweetheart?" Ryan's voice was syrupy sweet as he helped me into a wheelchair. My legs were too weak to support me after the morning's "treatment."

"Yes," I whispered, playing the role of the broken, grateful patient. The phone with its damning recording was tucked into the waistband of my pants, hidden beneath my loose sweater.

As Ryan wheeled me toward the exit, a familiar scent caught my attention—floral with herbal undertones. Elena. My adoptive sister was here.

"Just wait here a moment," Ryan said, parking my wheelchair near a large window overlooking the parking lot. "I need to sign some final paperwork."

I nodded docilely, but as soon as he disappeared down the hallway, I pressed my face closer to the glass. There, by Ryan's sleek black car, stood Elena. Her blonde hair caught the sunlight, making her look almost angelic—a cruel joke considering what I now knew.

Ryan emerged from a side door, striding toward her with purpose. When he reached her, there was no hesitation—he pressed her against the car, his mouth claiming hers in a passionate kiss that spoke of long familiarity. The mating scent between them intensified, a unique blend that confirmed what my heart had already known: they were true mates. Not Ryan and I. Never us.

Aria snarled, the sound reverberating through my chest. *Betrayers,* she growled. *Thieves.*

I watched as Ryan's hand possessively cupped the back of Elena's neck—the same gesture he'd used with me countless times, now revealed as nothing but a performance.

In that moment, staring at the two people who had orchestrated my destruction, something crystallized within me. The plan forming in my mind was no longer just about escape—it was about justice. About revenge.

I would make them pay for every second of the seven years they had stolen from me.

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