Chapter 3

Ten years. My parents were gone.

I broke my back doing the dirtiest jobs, fighting just to exist at the bottom of the world.

I lived on the meager pay from this miserable job, and now even that was gone. Where was I supposed to go?

The poison flared violently. I collapsed onto the floor, cold sweat rolling down my forehead, too weak to move a finger.

My phone buzzed—the pack healer clinic calling to collect.

"I held the final course of antidote for you like you asked! Do you want it or not?"

"Three days. Pay the balance in three days, or we dump the vial. Don't say I didn't warn you!"

My voice was desperate and cracking.

"I just got fired... I don't have the money right now. Please, give me a few more days..."

The receptionist snapped, shouting over the line:

"Do we look like a charity to you? If you're broke, don't waste our time getting treated!!"

Before I could beg again, the line went dead.

To scrape together the funds in three days, I called my father's old pack ally, hoping to retrieve some remaining assets.

His voice was icy.

"To be honest, you're not getting a single cent back."

"Everything your father invested here belongs to us now!"

A chill went straight to my bones. My voice shook with terror.

"That's a breach of pack treaty! I'll take this to the Elder Council!"

The man on the other end laughed arrogantly.

"Be my guest. Crimson Pack has already promised to back us with their elite enforcers!"

"I heard you're dying for cash. Let's see who outlasts who, little orphan."

Gregory didn't just get me fired; he sent his own warriors to back the thieves who robbed my family.

Blood surged up my throat, followed by a tear-inducing wave of agony.

I unscrewed the pill bottle, dumped another handful of moonshade herbs into my mouth, and swallowed them dry.

Cold sweat soaked completely through my work shirt.

I slumped against the dirty wall, letting out a bitter laugh.

Why?

Why could he wipe away my last sliver of hope with a snap of his fingers?

All I wanted was to live.