Maria.

Morning came far too quickly.

I stretched instinctively, my body reacting before my mind fully caught up. Muscles pulled, joints protested, and a soft groan slipped past my lips. It was only when I inhaled deeply that everything came crashing back. The scent, strong, unmistakable, Alpha, filled my lungs, sharp and suffocating.

Davian.

My eyes flew open.

Panic surged through me as I turned sharply to the side, my heart slamming violently against my ribs. For one terrifying second, I expected to see him there, watching me, waiting, ready to whip or drag me.

But the space beside me was empty.

Relief hit me so hard my vision blurred. The bed was rumpled, sheets creased with the memory of his presence, but he was gone. No body heat. No weight. No shadow looming over me.

This was it.

A chance.

I didn’t waste a second.

I swung my legs off the bed, ignoring the sharp pain that shot up my spine and settled deep in my bones. My feet barely touched the floor before I was moving, every instinct screaming at me to run. I crossed the room in a blur, my hands trembling as I reached the door.

I didn’t look back.

Not once.

I slipped out and moved as quickly as my aching body allowed, my breath shallow, my heart pounding so loudly I was sure it would give me away. Each step sent a dull throb through my limbs, my back reminding me of every strike, every cruelty.

I turned the final corner toward my room and only then did I allow myself to breathe.

A long, shaky sigh escaped me, my shoulders sagging as relief washed through me in waves. I had made it out. I was free, for now at least.

I slowed my pace, forcing myself to walk gently. Every inch of me felt sore, tender, fragile, like I might shatter if I moved too fast. My body felt heavy, borrowed, as if it no longer fully belonged to me.

That was when I saw the figure standing near my door.

My steps faltered.

From where I stood, the person wasn’t immediately clear, just a tall shape lingering too close to my space. My heart skipped, fear curling sharply in my chest. I took another step forward, then another, my eyes narrowing as the image sharpened.

Vincent.

He stood there casually, hands at his sides, his posture relaxed as though he belonged there. The moment he saw me, his face lit up.

"Hey, Maria," he said warmly, stepping forward. "I’ve been waiting for you to get back."

Before I could react, he reached out, his hands hovering as if he wanted to hold me, steady me. I stiffened instinctively, my body reacting before my mind could form words.

His expression shifted instantly.

"Oh no..." he murmured, concern flooding his features. His eyes swept over me, my pale face, my unsteady stance, the way I favored one side. "You look awful. Did Alpha Davian punish you?"

The question lodged in my throat.

I hesitated.

Admitting it felt like stripping myself bare, like handing him something private and dangerous. But the truth weighed too heavily to keep inside.

"Yes," I said quietly. "He did."

The word hung between us.

Vincent’s jaw tightened, something dark flickering briefly across his eyes before he masked it. He stepped closer, his voice dropping, intense.

"If you had the chance to get all the Alpha Quadruplets killed," he asked slowly, deliberately, "would you do it?"

The question hit me like a slap.

I flinched, my breath catching sharply as I stared at him. My mind reeled, scrambling to understand what I had just heard. His eyes were locked onto mine, searching, probing, far too serious for something meant as a joke.

Killed?

Dead?

Murder?

Yes, I hated them. Every cruel word, every punishment, every reminder that I was nothing but property had carved that hatred deep into me. But killing them? Taking lives?

No.

Never.

I took a step back without thinking, my pulse racing. Something cold and uneasy slid down my spine, a warning I couldn’t ignore. The air between us felt different now, tense, wrong.

Vincent noticed immediately.

In an instant, the intensity vanished. His lips curved into an easy smile, light and harmless, as though the moment before hadn’t existed.

"Relax, Maria," he said quickly, waving a hand as if brushing the question aside. "It’s just a question. No need to look so frightened."

He chuckled softly, trying to sound playful, normal.

But my heart refused to calm.

I nodded stiffly, though unease lingered in my chest like a bruise. His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, and no matter how casually he stood there, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something about him had shifted.

I forced my expression to smooth, even as my instincts screamed.

Something wasn’t right.

I forced myself to shake the feeling off.

It lingered stubbornly at the back of my mind, that strange unease Vincent’s question had stirred, but I pushed it down anyway. I told myself it was nothing, just a harmless question spoken out of concern. Anyone would feel anger seeing a friend bruised, humiliated, treated like less than nothing. Anyone would fantasize about revenge, about hurting the people who caused such pain. That didn’t make him dangerous. It made him human.

At least, that was what I chose to believe.

I drew in a slow breath, steadying myself before looking back at him. "Vincent, I will need to go in and change now," I said quietly, my voice softer than I intended. "If you don’t mind... you’ll have to excuse me."

He nodded immediately, relief flashing across his face as though he had been afraid I would push him away. "Sure, Maria. I just needed to confirm you’re okay," he replied gently.

He turned as if to leave, taking a few steps away from my door. I had already begun to reach for the handle when he suddenly stopped. Something about the pause made my shoulders tense.

He turned back to face me.

"Maria," he said, his tone earnest now, stripped of its earlier playfulness. "I need you to know one thing." His blue eyes held mine, steady and sincere. "I am your friend. And whenever you need me...if there’s anything you need done, anything at all...I’ll be more than willing to do it for you."

The words settled heavily in the air between us.

Before I could respond, before I could even decide what I felt about them, he gave me a small smile and finally walked away, disappearing down the corridor.

I stood there, frozen.

For a long moment, I didn’t move at all. My hand hovered uselessly near the door, my mind tangled in thoughts I didn’t know how to sort through. Part of me felt something dangerously close to warmth, comfort, even. Someone had called himself my friend. Someone had offered, without hesitation, to stand by me.

When was the last time anyone had done that?

But the feeling was quickly followed by something heavier, something sadder.

What was the point?

Vincent was a rogue, just like me. Powerless. Expendable. Asking him to do anything for me, truly anything, would only drag him into the same misery I was drowning in. It would put a target on his back. I knew too well how easily people like us could be crushed.

I couldn’t accept a promise like that. Not without guilt.

With a quiet sigh, I finally turned the doorknob and pushed the door open, stepping into the small room I shared with Galen. The familiar scent greeted me, grounding me just a little as I closed the door behind me.

Galen was on the bed.

She lay on her side, one arm tucked beneath her head, her eyes unfocused, lips moving faintly though no sound came out. I recognized the look immediately.

Mind link.

I paused just inside the room, watching her. For a second, confusion crept in, followed by a sharp stab of unease. Galen was a rogue now, just like me. Stripped of pack ties. Cut off.

Or so I had thought.

Who could she possibly be talking to?

I frowned slightly, studying her face. Her expression wasn’t strained or fearful. If anything, she looked calm. Familiar. As though the presence on the other end of the link was someone she trusted.

That didn’t make sense.

I had assumed, perhaps foolishly, that she had no one left. That whatever ties she once had were severed the moment she became a rogue. I had never seen her speak to anyone through a link since we arrived here. Never heard her mention a name, a voice, a memory.

So who was it?

I took a quiet step further into the room, careful not to disturb her. The floor creaked softly beneath my feet, but she didn’t react. Her attention was fully elsewhere, locked onto a conversation I couldn’t hear.

Questions flooded my mind.

Was it someone from her past? Someone she wasn’t supposed to still be connected to? Or was there something about Galen—about rogues—that I didn’t understand yet?

I stood there, watching her, my thoughts spinning.

Just like with Vincent, I felt that same strange tug of uncertainty settle in my chest. The sense that there were things happening around me, threads being pulled quietly, while I remained in the dark.

And for reasons I couldn’t explain, that frightened me more than the Alphas ever had.