The Rejected Substitute: Her Secret White Wolf Identity

Ava POV:

I woke up to the smell of antiseptic and the harsh beep of a heart monitor. I wasn't in a Rogue den. I was in the pack hospital.

Relief washed over me for a second, followed immediately by dread.

The door banged open. Donovan marched in, his face a mask of fury. He didn't ask if I was hurt. He didn't ask about the water in my lungs.

"How much did you pay them?" he snarled, looming over the bed.

"What?" My voice was a croak. My throat felt like sandpaper.

" The Rogues," he spat. "The ones on the boat. My security team intercepted them just in time. But they didn't fight back, Isabella. They retreated the moment they saw my men. It was a setup."

He grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at him. His eyes were flashing with Alpha dominance.

"You staged a kidnapping to make me feel guilty for saving Chloe. You are sick."

"I... I didn't..."

"Save your lies." He let go of me with a shove. "You stay here. No food. No water. Until you confess."

He walked out and locked the door.

For three days, I rotted in that room. The hunger was a gnawing beast in my belly, but the thirst was worse. As a wolf, my metabolism was fast; without fuel, my body began to consume itself. I lay curled in a ball, too weak to move, listening to the nurses whispering outside about the 'crazy Luna.'

On the fourth morning, the door opened.

Donovan stood there. He looked disheveled. He smelled of stale coffee and panic.

"Get up," he said.

I tried, but my legs failed me. He growled in frustration and hauled me up by my arm.

"They took her," he said, his voice trembling. "A mercenary pack. The Blood Fangs. They actually took Chloe this time."

I leaned against the wall for support. "What does that have to do with me?"

"They want a trade," he said, staring at the wall. "They want the Luna of the Blackwood Pack. They want you."

I laughed. It was a dry, cracking sound. "And you're going to give me to them."

"I have no choice!" he roared, slamming his fist against the doorframe. "They sent a finger, Isabella! They cut off her finger! I have to get her back!"

He looked at me, his eyes pleading, but not for me. For her.

"I will do it," I whispered.

He blinked. "You will?"

"On one condition." I summoned every ounce of strength I had left. "The contract ends today. You have the divorce papers drawn up. You sign them. You transfer the fifty million dollars to the Miller account. Right now."

"You are bargaining with her life?" he asked in disbelief.

"I am bargaining with my freedom, Alpha. Do it, or I scream until the nurses come, and I tell them you are trading your wife for your mistress."

He gritted his teeth. His wolf, Titan, surfaced in his eyes, amber and furious.

"Fine."

An hour later, the papers were signed. The transfer was initiated.

Donovan drove me to an abandoned warehouse district on the edge of the territory. He dragged me out of the car. My wrists were zip-tied.

"Don't worry," he muttered, though he sounded like he was convincing himself. "I'll come back for you. Once Chloe is safe, I'll bring the enforcers."

He walked me to the center of the warehouse. A group of scarred, filthy wolves emerged from the shadows. Their Alpha, a brute with a missing ear, stepped forward. He held Chloe by the hair. She was sobbing, a bandage wrapped around her hand.

"The trade," the Rogue Alpha grunted.

Donovan shoved me forward. "Here. Take her."

I stumbled toward the Rogues. Chloe ran past me, throwing herself into Donovan's arms. He didn't look back. He didn't hesitate. He bundled her into the car and sped away, leaving me surrounded by monsters.

"Well," the Rogue Alpha sneered, pulling a silver knife from his belt. "Let's see how much the Blackwood Alpha cares about his wife."

He didn't kill me. He wanted to send a message.

He carved into my shoulder. The silver sizzled against my skin, the smell of burning meat filling the air. I screamed until my voice gave out. They laughed. They beat me until my ribs cracked.

"We kill her at dawn," the Alpha decided, wiping his blade on my dress. "Let her bleed out a bit."

They threw me into a storage closet and locked the door.

I lay in the dark, pain pulsing through every nerve ending. Dawn, I thought. I have until dawn.

I thought of the fifty million dollars. I thought of the seaside house I had looked at in magazines.

Get up, Ava.

I crawled to the ventilation grate. It was rusted tight. I pulled at it with my fingers, my nails tearing, but my weak human strength wasn't enough.

Let me help, Seraphina whispered.

For the first time in years, the White Wolf pushed forward. Not fully-my body was too broken to shift-but she lent me her power. My muscles swelled with supernatural energy. My eyes burned.

With a guttural snarl, I ripped the metal grate from the wall, concrete dust exploding around me.

The effort drained me instantly. Seraphina retreated, leaving me gasping.

I squeezed into the shaft. It was tight, suffocating. I crawled over rat droppings and dust, my broken ribs screaming with every movement.

I fell out of the vent on the outside of the building. I hit the concrete hard.

I didn't stop. I ran. I didn't have speed, but I had adrenaline. I stumbled through the woods, barefoot, bleeding, fueled by nothing but spite.

I reached the manor just as the sun was rising. I limped through the back door, trailing blood on the pristine marble floors.

I walked into the living room.

Donovan was sitting on the sofa. Chloe was in his lap. He was peeling a grape and feeding it to her, whispering soft words against her hair.

They looked so domestic. So happy.

I stood there, a broken, bloody specter.

"I'm back," I rasped.

Donovan's head snapped up. He dropped the grape. His face went pale as he took in my appearance-the burns, the bruises, the blood.

"Isabella?" he whispered. "How..."

"The money," I said, leaning against the doorframe to keep from collapsing. "Did it clear?"