Chapter 3: Sebastian's POV

　　The nights at the border wasteland were colder than I had imagined.

　　My wolf Knox snarled furiously from the depths of my mind: "She betrayed the witness of the Moon Goddess, abandoned you—her fated mate. That is unforgivable! I will tear her apart. I will make her pay for this—"

　　"Enough." I cut him off in my head.

　　But even so, I couldn't stop myself from thinking of Joanna's face.

　　I thought of the way her brown hair shimmered with chestnut highlights in the sunlight. I thought of the warmth of her body when she leaned against my shoulder.

　　I thought of her impossibly soft lips pressing against the side of my neck, just below my jaw—that spot she had claimed as hers alone—and the feel of the gentle kiss she would leave there.

　　I thought of her opening those green eyes in the morning, lifting her head from my pillow to look at me, her gaze full of tenderness and love. I thought of her whispering "I love you" in my ear.

　　Knox missed her too. Despite all his talk of vengeance, on the full moon two nights ago, he had seized control of my body and thrown back his head to let out a single mournful, grief-stricken howl.

　　The pain of the severed mate bond tormented me more than this damn wasteland ever could.

　　Why had she done it? The question was a knife, and I kept cutting myself with it over and over.

　　Why had she given false testimony at the Council court? Why had she accused me of selling out the pack? Why had she personally delivered me into this damn cage with her own hands?

　　On the night of November fifteenth, we had been in bed. Her skin pressed against my body, the slide of her skin under my palms, the way her breath caught sharply when I kissed the hollow of her collarbone.

　　From dusk until deep into the night, we had been tangled together, her scent so close that every breath filled my lungs with her, her heartbeat pressed against my chest until I could no longer tell where I ended and where she began.

　　She had fallen asleep in my arms sometime after two in the morning, her fingers still loosely hooked around my wrist, her lips slightly parted, her face so peaceful that it made me want to never close my eyes—to just keep watching her like that forever.

　　She knew. She knew with perfect clarity that I had never gone to any abandoned dock, had never met anyone from the Northern Pack, had never even left that warm bed before the sun came through the curtains the next morning.

　　She knew I was innocent, and yet she still stood on that witness stand, looked at me with those eyes that had once been full of love, and calmly spoke those lies.

　　I closed my eyes, and Roger Ashford's hypocritical face surfaced unbidden in my mind—Joanna's father, the Alpha of the Shadow Pack, a man who valued power and profit above all else.

　　I had known from the very beginning how he saw me.

　　In his eyes, I was nothing more than an orphaned Beta who had lost his parents.

　　Even after I became an elite soldier of the border patrol, even after I had distinguished myself with multiple commendations and awards, in his eyes I was still just a werewolf unworthy of his daughter.

　　But Joanna had cupped my face in her hands and told me: "I don't care what he thinks, Sebastian. What I care about is you. Only you."

　　I believed her.

　　When the Moon Goddess drew our souls together, when the mate bond was established between us in that single moment, I thought I had finally found a home of my own.

　　I thought she would be the person who would always stand beside me, no matter what happened, no matter what difficulties we faced.

　　But reality?

　　Reality slapped me hard across the face. She was just as hypocritical as her father, with nothing in her eyes but family interests and power.

　　When she had to choose between me and the Ashford family, she chose the latter without a moment's hesitation.

　　I hated her betrayal.

　　Every time I thought of the way she had looked in that courtroom, every time I recalled the expression on her face as she spoke those lies, I wanted nothing more than to burst out of this damn wasteland immediately, to go back to the Shadow Pack and make Joanna, Roger, and the entire pack pay the price.

　　No. I couldn't be trapped here. I had to get out.

　　That thought tore at my consciousness again and again over the days that followed.

　　Today marked the fifth day at the wasteland. Five full days, and I had not closed my eyes once.

　　My body had been pushed to its absolute limit, my eyelids so heavy they felt as though they'd been filled with lead. Just moments ago, I had finally leaned against this freezing wall and felt drowsiness creeping in.

　　"Well, well, well. So this is the Beta who got sold out by his own woman?" A rough, grating voice shattered the brief silence.

　　I opened my eyes. A thick-faced Beta with brutish features was standing in front of me, a malicious grin plastered across his face.

　　I recognized him—Garrett, exiled because he enjoyed shifting and slaughtering humans. He was one of the bullies of this wasteland, with three or four equally vicious lackeys trailing behind him.

　　In the wasteland, Betas banded together to prey on the isolated, helpless newcomers who had just been sent in.

　　That was the law of survival here. Eat or be eaten. No mercy whatsoever.

　　I couldn't be bothered with this kind of pointless provocation. I closed my eyes and tried to let myself drift back to sleep.

　　But Garrett clearly had no intention of letting me off that easily.

　　"Tsk, tsk, tsk." He clicked his tongue, accompanied by the wet smacking of his lips. "How pitiful. An elite soldier of the border patrol, dumped into the wasteland by his own woman. What was that Alpha's daughter called again? Joanna? Such a precious little princess."

　　He licked his lips, his voice dripping with lewdness. "She's probably already in someone else's arms by now, don't you think? Those Alpha sons—they must have had their eyes on her for a long time. After all, with her kind of bloodline, that kind of status..."

　　My fingers tightened against my thighs, but I kept my eyes closed and my breathing steady.

　　My wolf Knox began to stir restlessly inside me. He wanted to tear this fool apart. But I held him back. Not now.

　　Garrett went on: "Tell me, why do you think she betrayed you? Was it because you couldn't perform in bed—couldn't satisfy the little princess? Ha ha ha ha—"

　　His lackeys burst into laughter behind him, the sound echoing through the cramped corner, grating and venomous.

　　I still gave no reaction.

　　Garrett seemed to be infuriated by my indifference. He suddenly kicked over the water bowl in front of me, dirty water splashing onto my pants.

　　"You think if you play dead I'll just leave?" He bent down and brought his face close to mine. "In here, soft little shits like you had better pray I'm in a good mood today, or else—"

　　The spit he sprayed landed on my face, carrying the stench of cheap liquor and rotting food. It was nauseating.

　　I slowly opened my eyes and looked at him calmly: "Get lost."

　　Garrett froze for a moment, then erupted into even wilder laughter: "Did you hear that, boys? This piece of trash who got dumped by his woman actually dared to tell me to get lost?"

　　He straightened up, the grin vanishing from his face, replaced by naked malice: "Today I'm going to teach you what the rules are around here."

　　His fist came swinging at my face. Instinct drove me to fight back. I seized his wrist, used his momentum to twist, and slammed his entire body hard onto the ground.

　　Bang—

　　Garrett crashed heavily onto the cement floor, letting out a pained groan.

　　But the others rushed in immediately.

　　Three or four werewolves attacked me at once—fists, elbows, snarling faces surging in from every direction.

　　I grabbed the nearest Beta by his collar, dragged him toward me, and drove my fist into the dead center of his face. Scalding blood sprayed across my fingers.

　　Before the man had even finished falling, I had already spun around and slammed my heel into the kneecap of the one on my left. He screamed and crumpled to the ground, clutching his leg with both hands.

　　"Hit him! Beat him to fucking death!" Garrett scrambled up from the ground, clutching his bruised shoulder, screaming wildly.

　　Blood ran from the corner of my mouth, and searing pain radiated from my ribs.

　　But I did not stop fighting. My wolf roared, and power surged endlessly into my muscles.

　　I charged at Garrett. One hand seized the front of his shirt; the other swung a furious hook that landed squarely on his mouth.

I felt his front teeth shatter beneath my knuckles.

His whole body staggered backward, and blood and broken teeth poured from between his lips. He spat a mouthful of bloody fluid onto the ground.

　　"You're done," he rasped, his voice slurred from the loss of his front teeth. "You're fucking done."

Then I saw him reach behind his waist and pull out a knife. A silver knife.