The Weakest Wolf's Revenge

Roxie's POV The wrench slipped from my greasy fingers, clattering against the concrete floor of the garage. My hands were shaking. They never shook when I worked. "Roxie, are you coming or what?" My sister Vera's voice drifted through the open door. "The ceremony starts in an hour." I stared at the engine I'd been rebuilding for the past week. Tonight was supposed to be the most important night of my life. That night I'd finally claim Marcus as my mate in front of the entire Silverstone Pack. So why did my wolf feel like she was clawing to escape? "Give me five minutes," I called back, wiping my hands on an already filthy rag. The garage was my sanctuary. Here, surrounded by metal and oil, I was valuable. Out there, in a pack that measured worth by how hard you could throw a punch or how pure your bloodline was, I was nothing. The weakest wolf. The omega who could barely shift without collapsing. But Marcus had chosen me anyway. The future Alpha's best friend, choosing the pack's weakest member. It should have felt like a fairy tale. I changed into the white dress Vera had laid out for me. Traditional. Pure. Everything a mate should be on her claiming night. The fabric felt like it was suffocating me. "You look beautiful," Vera said when I emerged. Her smile was too bright. Her hand touched her stomach for just a second before dropping. My wolf stirred uneasily. "Thanks." I forced myself to smile back. "Are you okay? You've been acting weird all week." "Just excited for you." She grabbed my hand, squeezing too tight. "My little sister, finally getting her happily ever after." The pack house was already crowded when we arrived. Wolves from three neighboring packs had come to witness the ceremony. I spotted Marcus near the altar, his broad shoulders tense. He wasn't looking at me. "I need to check something," I muttered to Vera. "Tell them I'll be right there." "Roxie, you can't—" But I was already moving, following the pull in my chest that had nothing to do with the mate bond. My wolf was practically howling now, demanding I pay attention. The hallway to Marcus's room was empty. That should have been my first warning. The door cracked open. That should have been my second. The sounds reached me before the scent did. I pushed the door open, and my world shattered into a million pieces. Marcus was in bed, his naked body intertwined with someone else. Someone whose dark hair I'd braided a thousand times. Someone whose laugh I'd grown up with. Vera. My sister. My blood. In bed with my mate. "Roxie!" Marcus scrambled for the sheets, his face draining of color. "This isn't—" "How long?" My voice came out steady. Mechanical. Like I was diagnosing an engine problem instead of watching my life implode. Vera sat up, and that's when I saw it. The slight swell of her stomach. In a protective way, Marcus immediately moved in front of her. "Two months," Vera whispered. "Roxie, we didn't mean for it to happen. The mate bond—" "You're pregnant." It wasn't a question. Marcus stood, pulling on his pants. "We were going to tell you after the ceremony. We thought it would be easier—" "Easier?" I laughed, and it sounded broken even to my own ears. "You were going to claim me in front of everyone, then what? Reject me privately? Make me the pack's biggest joke?" "You were never supposed to find out like this," Marcus said. "The plan was—" "The plan?" My wolf surged forward, and for once, I let her. " Was there a plan?" The door burst open behind me. My father, Alpha Darius Blackwood, stood in the doorway. His expression told me everything I needed to know. "You knew," I said. "The bloodline must be preserved," he said coldly. "Vera carries the future of this pack. You..." He looked at me like I was something scraped off his shoe. "You were always too weak to be a proper mate to anyone, let alone produce strong heirs." "So you all just decided? Behind my back?" "The pack comes first," my father said. "It always has." I looked between them. My father. My sister. My mate. The three people who were supposed to love me most in this world. "I want justice," I said. "Pack law states—" "Pack law states that the Alpha's word is final," my father interrupted. "And I've made my decision. Vera and Marcus will mate tonight. As for you..." His eyes were icy. "You're no longer welcome in Silverstone territory." "You're banishing me?" I couldn't breathe. "For being betrayed?" "For being weak," he corrected. "For being a liability. You have one hour to leave. After that, any wolf has permission to kill you on sight." Vera reached for me. "Roxie, please—" I slapped her hand away. "Don't touch me." "This is for the best," Marcus said. "You'll find another pack—" "No pack takes in banished wolves," I snarled. "You know that." "Then maybe," my father said quietly, "you should have been stronger." I ran. Through the pack house, past the confused guests, into the forest. I didn't stop for clothes or supplies. I just ran until my lungs burned, and my legs gave out at the border of our territory. Beyond lay rogue land. The no-man's land between pack territories where only the desperate or insane ventured. Where banished wolves went to die. I stood at the boundary, my white ceremony dress torn and dirty. Behind me, I could hear the celebration beginning. They hadn't even waited for me to leave before starting the ceremony with Vera in my place. My wolf whimpered, feeling the mate's bond with Marcus stretching, burning, even though it had never been completed. He was choosing her. Right now, in front of everyone, he was choosing her. I took a step across the border. The moment my foot touched rogue land, I felt it. Eyes. Watching. Waiting. I was being hunted. A howl echoed through the darkness. Then another. And another. Rogues. At least six of them, closing in fast. I was weak. Alone. Betrayed. About to die in the dark like every other banished wolf before me. But as their growls grew closer, something strange happened. My wolf didn't cower. She didn't whimper or submit. She got angry. And for the first time in my life, I agreed with her completely. If I was going to die, I wouldn't go down without a fight. The first rogue burst through the trees, foam dripping from its muzzle, eyes wild with bloodlust. I grabbed a broken branch, knowing it was useless, knowing I was dead. Then a massive black wolf slammed into the rogue from the side, tearing out its throat in one motion. More wolves poured from the shadows, but not rogues. These moved with military precision, taking down the threats before they could reach me. The black wolf turned to me, and I found myself staring into my eyes the color of molten gold. Power radiated from him in waves that made my knees weak. He shifted, and I forgot how to breathe. The man standing before me was carved from shadows and starlight, all lethal grace and barely containing violence. Scars covered his chest like a roadmap of battles won. "You crossed into Ironfang territory," he said, his voice rough as gravel. "That makes you our problem now." Before I could respond, he grabbed my arm. His touch sent electricity shooting through my entire body. His eyes widened, then narrowed to dangerous slits. "No," he growled. "This isn't possible." "What isn't possible?" But I already knew. I could feel it. The pull. The recognition. The mate bond. With a complete stranger who looked like he wanted to kill me for existing.