Calyn's POV
My fingernails hit something hard.
Not dirt this time. Bone.
I yank my hand back and press my face against the tiny air pocket I've been breathing from for three days. The smell makes me gag—rot and earth and death. My lungs burn. My throat is so dry it feels like sandpaper.
But I'm not dead yet.
I dig again, pushing my fingers through the loose soil above me. More bones scrape against my skin. I don't think about whose bones they are. I can't. If I think about the other omegas who were thrown down here before me—the ones who didn't make it out—I'll lose my mind.
Keep digging. Just keep digging.
My brother's face flashes in my memory. Matthias. Alpha of the Ironwood Pack. My big brother who used to protect me from bullies when we were kids. The same brother who stood over this pit three days ago and watched his guards throw me in.
"You brought this on yourself, Calyn," he'd said, his voice cold as winter. "You helped omegas escape. You broke pack law. This is mercy."
Mercy.
I almost laugh, but I can't spare the air. Being buried alive with corpses is his version of mercy.
Thunder rumbles above me. Then I hear it—rain. Heavy, pounding rain hitting the earth above my grave.
Hope explodes in my chest.
Rain means soft dirt. Soft dirt means I can dig faster.
I claw upward like a wild animal, my broken nails tearing through mud. My shoulders scream in pain. My arms shake from exhaustion. I've barely eaten in a week—even before they threw me in here, Matthias had me starved as punishment.
But I won't die in this hole.
I won't give him that satisfaction.
My hand breaks through to open air.
I gasp and dig harder, wider, creating a hole big enough for my head. Rain pours onto my face and I open my mouth, drinking desperately. It tastes like heaven. Like life.
I pull myself up, inch by painful inch. My body is so weak I can barely move. How long has it been since I've stood? Three days buried, plus two weeks locked in the pack prison before that.
Finally, my chest clears the hole. Then my waist. Then my legs.
I collapse on the muddy ground next to the pit, gasping and shaking. Rain washes the grave dirt from my face and hair. I lie there for a long moment, just breathing.
I'm alive. I'm alive. I'm alive.
When I finally open my eyes, I see the forest ahead—dark trees and freedom. Behind me is Ironwood Pack territory. My former home. The place where I was born, raised, loved.
The place that tried to bury me like garbage.
I force myself to sit up. My dress is torn and filthy, barely holding together. I look down at my hands—they're covered in cuts and bruises, caked with dirt and dried blood. I look like a corpse that crawled out of hell.
Maybe that's exactly what I am.
A memory hits me hard: Matthias and I as children, playing in the garden. He was teaching me to climb trees. When I fell and scraped my knee, he carried me home on his back.
"I'll always protect you, Caly," he'd promised. "Always."
That brother is gone. He died the same day our father did. The Matthias who took over as Alpha is someone else—someone who believes omegas are worthless. Someone who thinks power means crushing anyone weaker than you.
I push myself to my feet. My legs shake but they hold.
I need to run. Now. Before pack patrols find me. They threw me in the pit, but they didn't kill me outright because there's a law—omegas buried in the pit who escape within seven days are considered "freed by the Moon Goddess" and can't be legally executed.
It's an old law from centuries ago, back when Alphas had honor.
But I don't trust Matthias to follow old laws.
I stumble toward the forest, each step agony. My wolf is too weak to shift—I haven't had enough food or rest to transform. I'm stuck in human form, slow and vulnerable.
Behind me, I hear something that makes my blood freeze.
Howls.
Close. Too close.
My head whips around and I see them through the rain—five wolves running toward me from the pack house. Patrol guards. They must have heard something or caught my scent.
"There!" one of them shouts. "The omega escaped!"
Panic slams into me. I run.
My body is screaming at me to stop, to rest, but I force my legs to move. The forest is only fifty yards away. If I can reach the trees, maybe I can hide. Maybe I can lose them.
Run. Run. RUN.
Twenty yards.
Ten.
I can hear them behind me now—snarling, paws pounding the mud.
Five yards.
I crash into the forest, dodging between trees. Branches whip my face. Roots try to trip me. My lungs are on fire.
A wolf slams into me from the side.
I hit the ground hard, rolling. Before I can get up, another wolf pins me down. Then another. They surround me—five massive wolves, teeth bared, eyes glowing in the darkness.
I'm too weak to fight them all.
One of them shifts into human form. It's Marcus, one of Matthias's personal guards. He looks down at me with disgust.
"You should've stayed buried, omega," he says. "The Alpha's not gonna be happy you escaped."
"The law says I'm free," I gasp out. "Seven days. I made it out before seven days."
Marcus laughs. It's a cold, cruel sound. "You think the Alpha cares about old laws?" He pulls out a silver knife from his belt. "He gave us special orders. If you escaped, we were supposed to finish the job. Quietly."
My heart stops.
They're going to kill me.
Right here, right now. And no one will ever know. They'll say I died in the pit like I was supposed to.
Marcus raises the knife.
I close my eyes, too exhausted to even scream.
This is it. This is how I die—in the mud, surrounded by the pack that was supposed to be my family.
But the killing blow never comes.
Instead, I hear a new sound—a vicious snarl that makes even the patrol wolves step back.
My eyes snap open.
A massive black wolf stands between me and Marcus. It's bigger than any wolf I've ever seen, with eyes that glow silver in the darkness. The fur along its spine is raised, and the growl rumbling from its chest sounds like thunder.
Where did it come from?
Marcus stumbles backward, his knife clattering to the ground. "What the—"
The black wolf moves so fast it's just a blur. It tears into the patrol wolves with brutal efficiency—teeth flashing, claws ripping. The guards don't stand a chance.
In less than thirty seconds, all five of them are on the ground, either unconscious or dead. I can't tell which.
The black wolf turns to look at me.
Those silver eyes meet mine, and something passes between us—a feeling I can't name. Recognition? Understanding?
The wolf shifts.
And standing before me is the most dangerous-looking man I've ever seen.
He's tall, with dark hair and those same silver eyes. His face is hard, emotionless. When he speaks, his voice is deep and commanding.
"You're Calyn Merewood. The omega from Ironwood's pit."
It's not a question. He knows exactly who I am.
My heart pounds. "Who are you?"
The corner of his mouth lifts slightly—not quite a smile, but close. "Someone who's been looking for you."
Before I can ask what that means, he kneels beside me and his hand touches my forehead.
"Sleep," he commands.
And everything goes black.