Chapter 1

My name is Aria Vance, and I was born with mismatched eyes.

To the Silver Moon Pack, that made me a curse from the day I drew breath.

Therefore, my parents threw me into the Mistwood the moment I was born.

That place exists for one reason—to hold everything the packs don't want.

Mutated wolves. Half-bloods. The maimed. Anything that didn't fit the mold got dumped there.

The world outside calls it a nest of monsters, but most of them aren't evil.

They were just born different, and for that they got hunted like animals.

I was taken in by a black witch named Morwenna.

She taught me to heal, but I never cared for saving anyone.

What fascinated me was the other thing—how to make a wolf's bloodline rot from the bone out, slow and quiet.

In the end, I brewed things even Morwenna couldn't cure.

The day I came of age, I told her I was leaving.

She didn't stop me. She just grabbed my wrist and clasped a blessed moonstone bracelet around it.

"Aria, your wolf was born bloodthirsty." She held my gaze. "Out there, don't ever let anyone see your real eyes."

For years after that, I went by "the Fir Healer," drifting from territory to territory. Heal, take payment, never linger.

No one spoke of the mismatched-eyed poisoner of the Mistwood anymore.

I thought I'd spend the rest of my life like that.

Then the Vance family brought me back.

They collected me all polite and warm, smiling the whole way like they'd struck gold.

It wasn't until the carriage that I understood—they wanted a scapegoat.

To marry me off in place of their fake heiress, Selena, to the crippled, half-mad Shadow Alpha—Cyrus.

——

That very night, they didn't even let me catch my breath before dragging me to the Full Moon Gala the Alpha King was hosting.

I didn't run.

I wanted to see what they could actually do to me, after all these years.

The hall blazed with light. Every noble in the pack world had come.

I stood alone in a corner when a Beta named Harper drifted over with a few of the noble girls.

"What's that smell? Reeks of cheap dirt." She pitched her voice loud enough for the whole hall to hear.

"I heard she grew up in the Mistwood," another said, covering her nose. "A place like that—she was probably passed around by a pack of rogues ages ago."

"Disgusting."

I kept the smile on my face. Five years of healing had trained it into me—gentle, flawless, nothing to pick at.

Harper walked up with a glass of champagne, saying she'd teach me what pack manners looked like.

She didn't finish the sentence before slamming her whole body into me.

I stepped aside. But the silver bracelet on her wrist caught me and tore a gash open.

Blood welled up and ran down along the bone.

The moonstone bracelet broke.

The beads struck the marble one by one, scattering everywhere.

In that instant, I felt the wolf I'd kept caged for five years begin to stir.

Almost the same instant, across the hall, a glass whipped around.

Alpha Tristan.

Three years ago, he'd learned firsthand what I could do. The sight of me drained the color from his face.

Harper still had no idea what she'd stepped on.

"Filthy mongrel." She looked down at me. "You think you belong standing with us?"

The noble girls picked up the jeering, laughing together.

I looked down at the beads scattered across the floor and said nothing.

They thought I was scared.

I was thinking about other things.

When I was five, someone called me a monster. I took his voice. He never made a sound again for the rest of his life.

At ten, a mutated wolf tried to bite me. I kicked it into a snake pit and listened to it howl all night.

At fifteen, I brewed my first poison that could rot an Alpha's bloodline. The night it worked, my wolf was too thrilled to sleep.

To pass as a good person, I choked all of that down for five years.

Selena decided the moment was ripe.

She sauntered over, trailing that cloying rose scent, and hooked her arm through Harper's.

"Oh, don't say that. Aria just came back from that wild place—it's only natural she doesn't know how to behave."

That one line cut deeper than any of their sneers.

I lifted my eyes to her.

Beneath all that manufactured hurt, I saw the hatred buried deep.

She'd been the heiress for over twenty years. Now she had to shove a crippled husband onto me—and instead of feeling guilty, she resented me for existing at all.

Hilarious.

The Vance title, that cripple—I couldn't have cared less about any of it.

Handed her opening by Selena, Harper only grew bolder.

"I hear in the Mistwood, one female gets shared between a few males." She eyed me sideways. "No telling if you're even clean—"

Selena "frowned," tossing out a token protest. "Harper, don't say such things. She's going to be Alpha Cyrus's mate soon."

But the smile she couldn't quite bury at the corner of her mouth—I saw all of it.

Slowly, I gathered the scattered beads into my palm.

Then I stood.

"Are you finished?" I raised my head.

Harper froze.

Because I'd opened my eyes.

Ice blue on the left. Deep violet on the right.

The ones standing closest sucked in a breath and stepped back on instinct.

Harper's face locked in place, her lips going white, but she held her ground.

Selena reacted fastest. Her expression shifted, her feet inching back without a sound.

I turned my head and fixed my gaze on her face, letting that poison-laced scent press slowly toward her.

"Do you think I'm filthy too?"

The hall went silent all at once.

Every gaze slid off me and landed on Selena's face.

"I—I never wanted to fight you over anything—" she started to stammer.

"But your heartbeat," I cut in, "tells me you're afraid of me."

Right then, a sharp crack sounded not far off.

Everyone turned.

Alpha Tristan stood beneath the lights, the glass in his hand crushed to pieces, shards and blood dripping down through his fingers.

He wasn't looking at the wound. He was staring at my eyes.

Then, a full-blooded Alpha, in front of the entire hall, took half a step back.

Now everyone knew something was wrong.

Selena stared at him, unable to believe that I—a cast-off daughter just dragged home—could frighten an Alpha like this.

Only Harper still hadn't caught on, asking dumbly, "Alpha Tristan? What's the matter?"

Tristan was drenched in sweat.

His eyes darted between my bleeding wrist and those mismatched eyes, like he'd seen a ghost.

I looked at him and tilted my head, just slightly.

"Your Highness," I said softly. "Long time no see."

Tristan's hand jerked.

The whole bottle of wine went over, spilling across the table.