Sera's POV
The silver blade burned into my cheek.
Pain exploded across my face—white-hot agony that made my vision go black at the edges. I screamed until my throat went raw. The smell of burning flesh filled my nose. My own flesh.
"Hold her still!" Commander Drake barked.
Strong hands pinned my head to the stone platform. I couldn't move, couldn't escape. The blade carved slowly from my temple to my jaw—a long, deliberate line that would mark me forever.
This couldn't be happening. This couldn't be real.
But the pain was real. So real I thought I might die from it.
The blade finally lifted. I gasped for air, tasting blood where I'd bitten my tongue. Tears streamed down my face, mixing with blood from the fresh wound.
"One scar for attempted murder," Alpha Blackthorn announced.
The crowd watched in silence. Not one person protested. Not one voice rose in my defense.
Through my blurry vision, I saw my father. Beta Rowan stood behind the Alpha's throne, his face pale. His hands shook at his sides.
"Dad," I sobbed. "Please. Please stop them. I'm innocent. I'm your daughter—"
His eyes met mine. I saw pain there. Guilt. Maybe even love buried deep under years of my stepmother's manipulation.
"Rowan," Vivienne hissed beside him. Her perfectly manicured hand gripped his arm. "Don't you dare."
My father opened his mouth. For one heartbeat, I thought he'd save me.
Then Vivienne leaned close and whispered something in his ear. Whatever she said made him go rigid. The guilt in his eyes transformed to fear.
He looked away.
"Father!" I screamed. "How can you just stand there?! I'm your blood! Your daughter! Mom would be ashamed of you!"
Vivienne's face twisted with rage at the mention of my dead mother. "Your mother was weak," she spat. "Just like you. Rowan chose me. He chose our family. You're nothing but a reminder of his past."
"Vivienne," my father said quietly. A warning.
But he still didn't defend me.
"Proceed," Alpha Blackthorn ordered.
Commander Drake picked up the second blade. This one glowed even hotter—almost white with heat.
"No," I whimpered. "Please, no more—"
The blade pressed against my throat.
The scream that tore from me didn't sound human. The silver carved a horizontal line across my neck, just above my collarbone. The pain was worse than the first cut—so intense I couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't do anything but feel it burning through every nerve.
"Two scars for bearing false witness," Alpha Blackthorn said.
I couldn't stop shaking. Blood dripped from my face and throat onto the stone platform. My baby—I had to protect my baby. My hands curled protectively over my stomach even as guards pinned my shoulders down.
"Please," I gasped. "The baby is innocent. Whatever you think I did, my pup didn't do it. Please don't hurt my baby."
"There's still debate about whether that pup even exists," a voice said.
Marcus.
My mate—former mate—stepped forward. His handsome face showed nothing. No emotion. No regret. Nothing.
Hope flickered weakly in my chest. Maybe he'd changed his mind. Maybe seeing me tortured had reminded him we were supposed to be fated—
"I need to make something clear," Marcus announced to the crowd. "Before the final scar is carved."
He walked to where I lay bleeding on the platform. Looked down at me with those green eyes I used to dream about.
"I, Marcus Blackthorn, son of Alpha Blackthorn, formally and completely reject you as my mate, Sera Ashwood."
The words hit harder than any blade.
"You are wolfless," he continued, his voice carrying across the silent crowd. "Broken. Weak. A stain on both our packs. I reject you and—" his eyes flicked to my belly, "—whatever you claim to carry. I want nothing to do with you or any pup you might bear."
The mate bond, already damaged from his earlier rejection, shattered completely.
Pain tore through my chest like someone had reached inside and ripped out my heart. I felt the bond dying—that invisible thread that connected fated mates—snapping one strand at a time.
"I don't accept," I gasped. "I don't accept your rejection."
If I didn't accept, the bond would stay partially connected. He'd still feel me, still have some claim—
"You don't have a choice," Vivienne said coldly. "A rejected mate who refuses to accept loses all pack protection. You'll be completely alone. Completely helpless. Is that really what you want?"
I looked at Celeste. My stepsister stood beside Marcus, one hand on her pregnant belly. She wasn't crying anymore. Her face glowed with victory.
She'd won. She'd destroyed me completely and taken everything I had.
"I don't accept," I repeated, louder this time. Let Marcus feel my pain through the bond. Let him know what he'd done. "The Moon Goddess made us mates for a reason. I don't care if you reject me—I won't accept it. This baby is yours, and you'll know it for the rest of your life."
Marcus's jaw clenched. For just a second, pain flickered across his face.
Good. I hoped it haunted him forever.
"The third blade," Alpha Blackthorn ordered.
This time I didn't fight when they grabbed my head. What was the point? Nobody would save me. My mate had rejected me. My father had abandoned me. My best friend had lied about me.
I was utterly alone.
The third blade touched my face again, carving another line that intersected the first. The pain blurred together with everything else—my broken heart, my shattered life, the baby growing inside me that everyone wanted to pretend didn't exist.
"Three scars for attempting to entrap an Alpha heir with false claims of pregnancy," Alpha Blackthorn declared.
When they finally released me, I collapsed on the blood-slicked platform. Every breath hurt. My face and throat burned like they were still on fire.
The scars would never heal. Not completely. Silver wounds left permanent marks on wolves—and even on wolfless girls like me.
I'd wear these scars for the rest of my life. However long that would be.
"The sentence is exile," Alpha Blackthorn announced. "Sera Ashwood will be escorted to the border of the Outcast Lands and cast out. She is forbidden from ever returning to pack territories. Any pack that offers her shelter will be considered enemies of the Blackthorn alliance."
Death sentence. That's what this was.
The Outcast Lands were filled with rogues—wolves who'd been exiled or gone mad without pack bonds. They killed for sport. For food. For fun.
A pregnant, scarred, wolfless girl wouldn't last a week.
"Get her up," Commander Drake ordered.
Guards hauled me to my feet. My legs barely held my weight. Blood dripped from my wounds, leaving a trail as they dragged me toward the edge of the platform.
The crowd parted, creating a path. I saw their faces as I passed—disgust, satisfaction, pity quickly hidden. Not one person reached out to help.
We reached the edge of pack territory. Beyond the tree line, darkness waited. The Outcast Lands stretched for miles of wilderness and danger.
"Wait," a voice said.
Marcus approached, alone. The guards stepped back, giving him space.
For one stupid, desperate moment, I thought he'd changed his mind. That he'd save me at the last second like in the stories—
"I'm sorry," Marcus whispered, so quietly only I could hear. "This wasn't supposed to happen this way. Celeste said you'd just be exiled quietly. I didn't know they'd torture you."
I stared at him. "You knew. You helped plan this."
His face flushed. "I didn't have a choice. My father needs Celeste's pack alliance. She has a strong wolf, she can give me powerful heirs—"
"And I was convenient until I became inconvenient," I finished. My voice sounded dead. "You used me for your alliance with my father's pack. Once you had that secured through our engagement, you didn't need me anymore."
He didn't deny it.
"The baby is yours," I said flatly. "Six weeks ago, before you chose Celeste. You know it's yours."
"I know." His voice cracked slightly. "But I can't acknowledge it. Not now. Maybe... maybe later, when things settle down, I can—"
"Get away from me," I said. "You're not sorry I'm being exiled. You're sorry you might face consequences. You're sorry people might judge you for rejecting a pregnant mate."
His jaw clenched. "You don't understand the pressure I'm under. My father, the pack expectations—"
"I understand perfectly. You're a coward."
Marcus's eyes flashed with anger. The sympathy vanished. "Goodbye, Sera. I hope you survive long enough to realize this was all your own fault."
He walked away without looking back.
"Move," Commander Drake commanded.
They dragged me to the very edge—a cliff that dropped into darkness. The Outcast Lands stretched below, barely visible in the moonlight.
"Any last words?" Drake asked.
I looked back at the crowd. At my father, standing silent and ashamed. At Vivienne and Celeste, arms linked, celebrating their victory. At Marcus, already returning to Celeste's side.
"I'll survive this," I said clearly. "And when I do, you'll all regret what you did tonight."
Drake laughed. "Brave words for a dead girl. Goodbye, Sera Ashwood."
He shoved me.
I fell backward off the cliff, arms flailing, screaming as wind rushed past. The ground rushed up impossibly fast—
Something inside me pulsed.
Deep in my core, something that had been sleeping my entire life suddenly stirred. Power flooded through my veins—foreign and familiar at the same time.
My falling slowed. Just slightly. Just enough that when I hit the rocky ground at the bottom of the cliff, I didn't die instantly.
I crashed into earth and stone, ribs cracking, leg twisting wrong, head bouncing off rock. Pain exploded everywhere.
But I was alive.
Somehow, impossibly, I was alive.
I lay broken and bleeding in the darkness, rain starting to fall. Above me, at the top of the cliff, I heard voices. Laughter.
They thought I was dead.
My hand moved to my stomach. The baby—I had to check—
A flutter. Weak but there.
Still alive. We were both still alive.
I didn't understand what had happened. How I'd survived a fall that should have killed me. What that pulse of power had been.
But one thing was clear:
Something inside me had awakened.
And nothing would ever be the same.