They locked me in the deepest chamber of the Marcus estate—a prison carved not just from stone, but from silence, and control.
The runes on the walls glowed with ancient silver light. My wrists and ankles were bound by chains etched with suppressive glyphs, pulsing like a heartbeat. My scent markers, once wild and unstable, were now frozen beneath cold iron.
I couldn’t scream. I wouldn’t beg.
All I had was breath. And fury.
“Mixedpower bearer.”
The High Elder’s voice cut through the stillness like a blade. "You, Alpha by flesh, Omega by scent—are a violation of every natural order. At dawn, you will be purified. Your power , removed. Your lineage… corrected."
I didn’t flinch.
Instead, I laughed.
It was hoarse, broken, but it echoed like a bell in the hollow space.
“You call that
