Forsaken by the Pack, Fated to the Ancient Lord

Callie Waller POV:

Three years in a coma. I became my family's castoff. Tonight, my father is going to kill me with his own hands-pull my oxygen tube and give my corpse to a dying murderer for a billion crystals.

He doesn't know I'm awake.

"Three years of pouring fortune into this useless shell, and for what?" My father's voice cut through the sterile gloom of the VIP room, sharp with irritation.

I kept my eyelids heavy, breathing in the slow, flat rhythm the monitors expected. Deep in this vegetative shell, my soul slammed back into my body-ten brutal lifetimes of memory flooding in at once. I was reborn. And deep in my marrow, the ancient White Wolf that had slept for three years was opening its eyes.

Heavy dress shoes paced across the marble floor and stopped beside my bed.

Cortney Waller-my father, head of the Waller Pack-let out a ragged sigh.

"Every day in this private suite drains thousands of crystals," he muttered, yanking the velvet curtains shut until shadows swallowed the room. "Our pack is on the edge of bankruptcy, and you just lie here, rotting."

To the Western Continent's elite, I was an embarrassment. A wolfless failure, discarded by my pack and forgotten by the world.

"I should've known better than to expect anything from Evelyn's daughter," Cortney sneered, voice dropping bitter and low. "Your mother left a mountain of debt, and you couldn't even manage your first shift at eighteen. A complete genetic defect."

He pulled a folded parchment from his coat, fingers trembling over the silver wax seal.

"Jacoby didn't hesitate, did he?" Cortney let out a dry, ugly chuckle. "Nine silver extraction needles straight into your heart-just to save his precious Irina. He knew silver burns a werewolf's soul to ash. He still took every drop."

Jacoby's name hit me like a cold spike. Three years ago, my so-called fiancé, the arrogant Alpha heir of Chase Pack, strapped me to an operating table and burned my spirit away with silver-all to keep his counterfeit sweetheart alive. Under the blanket, my nails dug into my palms.

"Still, I should thank him for leaving you one breath," Cortney mused, tone sliding from bitterness into greedy excitement. "The brokers from Shadow Isle reached out yesterday. Astronomical payout. The moment your heart stops tonight, this body becomes worth more than you ever were alive."

Shadow Isle. Forbidden sanctuary of the highest Lycan bloodlines. Even the Continental Defense Forces didn't dare cross it.

"The Dark Mate Ritual," Cortney whispered, leaning over me. "An ancient death pact the modern packs despise. Who cares? Bind a dying female's fading core to a terminal rogue, and I get an offshore fortune. Easiest billion crystals I'll ever make."

He tapped his gold signet ring against the metal bed rail. The click echoed in the quiet.

"A billion crystals and a black transit card from the Shadow Isle outer council. With that, the Waller Pack finally breaks into the continental elite."

I kept my soul locked down, cycling my ancient healing art through every damaged meridian while memorizing every word. Packs were just corporate cartels with fangs-gene rank decided who lived, and Cortney Waller was ready to butcher his own blood for a seat at the table.

"Sacrificing one wolfless daughter to secure wealth for the family," he whispered. "Best deal I've ever negotiated."

His shadow fell over my face. His manicured fingers hovered over the main oxygen line.

Outside, a nurse's rubber-soled shoes squeaked once, then faded. The floor was deserted.

"Jacoby already seized half your maternal grandfather's lands," Cortney said, breath hot against my cheek. "Tomorrow morning, Chase Group broadcasts their charity engagement gala. If I don't secure this Shadow Isle deal tonight, the elders will liquidate the Waller Pack."

To him, I was an empty shell-worth more dead than alive.

The last trace of filial duty inside me turned to ash.

Cortney's breathing grew heavy. His fingers tightened on the valve, then loosened. He turned and took half a step back from the bed, as if he couldn't do it, as if he was searching for one last reason.

"Goodbye, Callie. When you reach the underworld, don't blame me for being practical."

He twisted the valve shut.

On the monitor, the blood-oxygen curve plunged into the red.

I relaxed my muscles, let my lips take on a faint, suffocating blue, and mimicked the final spasms of a dying wolfless girl.

Cortney stared at the dropping numbers, a sick grin spreading across his face.

"That's it... just flatline. The black-market morgue van is already idling in the basement."

He pulled out an expensive Cuban cigar, but his hands shook so badly the gold lighter clicked three times without a flame.

Deep in the shadows of my sealed meridians, the pure White Wolf core finished its fusion.

Ten lifetimes of combat essence roared awake inside my consciousness, a tidal wave straining against a dam.

Cortney finally struck a flame, blew gray smoke into the dim air, and stepped closer to rip out the arterial catheter.

Beneath my pale eyelids, my eyes flashed with the terrifying, iridescent glow of the arctic aurora.