Chapter 309
Her face transformed, disappointment and rage flashing across her features before she could mask them. Her wolf snarled beneath her skin, a reaction that surprised me with its intensity.
Officer Benjamin Trent stepped forward. “Ms. Frost, this way please.”
As Victoria was led away, Olivia watched with visible relief washing through her. She left the center with her head held high, and I followed at a respectful distance, my mind churning with unanswered questions.
Outside, I caught up to Olivia as she headed toward her car. “I’ll drive you back to the Medical Den.”
She hesitated, clearly reluctant to accept my offer. “That’s not necessary.”
“I insist,” I said, my tone brooking no argument. My wolf was restless with unresolved questions, and I needed answers only she
could provide.
Reluctantly, she followed me to my Midnight Maybach. The drive began in tense silence, the air between us heavy with unspoken
words.
“Why are you so convinced Victoria isn’t Little Orange?” I finally asked, my knuckles white on the steering wheel.
Olivia remained defiantly silent, her wolf projecting walls of emotional distance. The scent of her determination filled the car,
mingled with something else–vindication.
“Olivia,” I pressed, “if you know something-”
“I’ve said all I need to say for now,” she interrupted, her voice cool. “The evidence against Victoria speaks for itself.”
I wanted to push further, but something held me back. My wolf sensed that forcing the issue would only drive her further away.
When we arrived at the Silvercrest Pack Medical Den, Olivia immediately exited the vehicle without a backward glance. I watched
her disappear through the entrance, her scent trailing notes of determination and vindication.
Sighing heavily, I called Maxwell Chen. “Meet me here. I need to go to Crescent Moon Medical Center to check on Emma.”
(Victoria’s POV)
The harsh fluorescent lights of the Shadowfall Detention Center made my skin look sickly pale. I wrinkled my nose at the stench
of unwashed bodies and cheap moonlight wine that permeated the air.
This was beneath me. I, Victoria Frost, did not belong in a place like this, surrounded by common criminals and rogue wolves.
“Move it,” the guard growled, shoving me toward the cell block.
My wolf bristled at the disrespect. Didn’t he know who I was? I was practically the Luna of the Silvercrest Pack, the most powerful
pack in the Northern Territory!
1/3
VITUS
The cell door clanged shut behind me, and I found myself facing a dozen pairs of hostile eyes. Female wolves of various ranks
lounged on metal bunks, their gazes calculating as they assessed the newcomer.
I lifted my chin, my natural arrogance asserting itself despite my circumstances. These mongrels needed to understand their
place.
“What are you looking at?” I snapped at a muscular she–wolf with a jagged scar across her cheek. She was clearly one of The
Crescent Sisters, a notorious group of female rogues. 1
The she–wolf’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Fresh meat,” she growled, her wolf surging beneath her skin.
I scoffed, failing to recognize the genuine threat. “Keep your mongrel stench away from me.”
The cell went deadly silent. Too late, I realized my mistake.
The scarred she–wolf lunged forward with werewolf speed, her fist connecting with my jaw before I could react. Pain exploded
across my face as I stumbled backward.
“Who do you think you are?” she snarled, her wolf raging beneath her skin. “You think your fancy clothes and Alpha’s protection
mean anything in here?”
I tried to fight back, but my wolf–accustomed to dominance through manipulation rather than true strength–was no match for
hers. She grabbed my hair, yanking my head back painfully.
“Look, sisters,” she called to the others, “the Mistress Luna thinks she’s better than us!”
The other inmates circled me, their wolves sensing weakness and moving in for the kill. One grabbed my arms while another
landed a punch to my stomach that left me gasping for air.
“Not so high and mighty now, are you?” the scarred she–wolf taunted, landing another blow that split my lip.
Blood trickled down my chin as they dragged me across the cell floor toward the corner where a Rusted Iron Detention Bucket sat.
The stench was overwhelming, even to my weakened wolf senses.
“Perfect place for trash like you,” one of them sneered, shoving me down next to the bucket.
My stomach heaved at the foul odor. I tried to crawl
way, but a boot on my back kept me pinned in place.
“Stay where you belong,” the scarred she–wolf commanded, her dominance pheromones filling the cell.
Unable to escape the stench, I vomited repeatedly, my body convulsing as my stomach emptied itself. The other inmates laughed,
enjoying my humiliation.
