Irina’s POV

Sex slave.

A sharp laugh escaped my throat before I could stop it. Bitter. Hollow.

So that was my fate. From one hell straight into another.

My father gestured to someone in the doorway. Hands grabbed my arms—rough, uncaring—and dragged me out of the study. My legs barely worked. I didn’t fight. What was the point?

They hauled me through corridors I used to run down as a child. Past rooms where I’d played, studied, lived a different life entirely.

That girl was dead now.

The omega servants’ quarters were in the basement. Cold. Damp. The smell hit me first—mildew and unwashed bodies and despair.

They threw me into a small room at the end of the hall. I hit the floor hard, palms scraping against rough concrete.

The door slammed shut behind me.

I lay there for a moment, face-down on the filthy floor, and tried to remember how to breathe.

"Tomorrow you start work," someone had said. My father? The head omega? I couldn’t remember. The words blurred together. "After your birthday, you’ll be transferred."

My body finally moved. Slowly. Everything hurt. I crawled to the narrow bed shoved against the wall—if you could call it a bed. A thin mattress on a metal frame. No pillow. A single threadbare blanket.

I pulled myself onto it without bothering to change out of my wet clothes. Water from Alexei’s bucket had soaked through to my skin, making me shiver violently.

My forehead burned.

Fever. Of course.

I closed my eyes.

Time passed. Hours, maybe. I drifted in and out of consciousness, my body alternating between burning hot and freezing cold.

At some point, someone came in. The head omega, probably—a middle-aged woman whose name I’d never learned.

"Get up," she snapped. "You have chores—"

She stopped. I felt her stare on my face.

"You’re burning up."

I didn’t respond. Couldn’t.

She muttered something under her breath. Curses, probably. Then footsteps retreating.

"Not worth the trouble," I heard her say to someone in the hallway. "She’s being shipped off tomorrow anyway."

The door closed again.

More time passed. The fever climbed higher. My thoughts scattered, fragmenting into disconnected images. Katerina’s face. My mother’s grave. The forest. Blood on Maxim’s hands.

Blood everywhere.

Evening came. I knew because the small window near the ceiling darkened from gray to black.

Then the door burst open.

I didn’t need to look to know who it was. The air changed. Thickened.

Maxim.

"Well, well." His voice was almost cheerful. "Look at you. Pathetic."

Heavy footsteps crossed the room. The mattress dipped as he sat on the edge of the bed.

I kept my eyes closed. Maybe he’d get bored and leave.

"Don’t ignore me, little rabbit."

His hand fisted in my hair, yanking my head up. Pain exploded across my scalp. My eyes flew open.

He smiled. That smile that never reached his eyes.

"There she is."

"What do you want?" My voice came out as a croak.

"Just wanted to give you an update." He released my hair, letting my head drop back onto the mattress. "Blood Birch’s alpha is coming tomorrow. Meeting with my father to discuss your little border violation."

My stomach twisted.

"But don’t worry," Maxim continued, his tone conversational. "You’ll get your punishment soon enough. You’re going to that place. You know the one. Where all the twisted bastards go to play with their toys."

He leaned closer. His breath was hot against my face.

"How long do you think you’ll last there? A year? Maybe two?"

I turned my head away.

His fingers caught my chin, forcing me to look at him again.

"But here’s the thing, Irina." His voice dropped lower. "I’m going to be your first. Me. Before they ship you off to that hellhole, I’m going to fuck you myself."

My blood turned to ice.

"And after?" He laughed. "I’ll visit. Regularly. Can’t let my favorite toy go to waste, can I?"

He shifted, his body pressing me into the mattress. His mouth moved to my neck, lips brushing against the spot where a mate mark would go.

"You smell sick," he murmured against my skin. "Disgusting."

Then he was gone. Standing. Brushing off his clothes like I’d contaminated them.

"See you tomorrow, little rabbit."

The door slammed shut.

I didn’t move. Couldn’t. My body had stopped responding to commands.

The fever climbed higher.

I curled into myself on that miserable excuse for a bed, wet clothes clinging to my skin, and let unconsciousness take me.

—

Heat woke me.

Not fever heat. Something else. Something deeper, burning from the inside out.

The window showed only darkness. Middle of the night.

My body convulsed. Every muscle locked up at once, rigid and trembling.

No.

Not yet. Not like this—

The first shift was supposed to be sacred. Family surrounded you, guided you through the agony of bones breaking and reforming. Your wolf emerged with pack around you, welcoming you into your true nature.

I had none of that.

Just this freezing basement room and my own screams trapped in my throat.

The pain hit like lightning. My spine arched off the mattress. Bones cracked—I heard them break, felt them splinter—

Then something else cut through the agony.

A scent.

Rich. Overwhelming. It invaded my lungs, my head, drowning out everything else.

My body moved before my mind caught up. I rolled off the bed, hit the floor hard, scrambled to my feet.

The fever was gone. Or maybe it was still there and I just couldn’t feel it anymore over this new sensation burning through my veins.

Mate.

The word exploded in my consciousness. Primal. Undeniable.

My feet carried me forward. Through the door—unlocked, had it always been unlocked?—into the hallway.

I didn’t know where I was going. Didn’t care. My body knew. It followed that scent like a compass pointing north.

Up stairs. Through corridors. Past closed doors and darkened rooms.

The scent grew stronger with every step. Intoxicating. Inescapable.

I should stop. Should turn back. Should—

But I couldn’t. Whatever control I’d had over my own body was gone, surrendered to something older than thought.

A door appeared in front of me. Heavy wood. Ornate handle.

I didn’t hesitate.

My hand closed around the handle. Turned it. Pushed.

The door swung open.

And there—

Mate!!