FOURTY

The sting in my muscles was sharp and constant, but I welcomed it.

Pain meant progress.

I moved through the drills like a woman possessed—duck, punch, twist, block—my body moving on instinct now. My bruises had faded to soft yellow and green patches, and though my ribs still ached when I pushed too hard, I didn't slow down. Couldn't.

Zeke stood across the field, watching. He didn't come near me. Not once.

Not like before. He gave orders to the others, sparred with Kade, checked stances, but when it came to me? He kept his distance. He didn't correct my posture. Didn't spar with me. Didn't even brush past.

I wasn't upset by it.

Or jealous.

I got it.

This was him playing it smart—keeping up appearances. Playing good Beta to a tyrant Alpha. Neo was always watching, and Zeke knew the cost if he stepped too close, lingered too long. We both knew.

So I trained harder.

Every move, every breath, every slam of my body into the dirt was a middle finger to Neo's idea of who I was supposed to be.

"Again," I muttered to my sparring partner, a cocky young wolf named Devin. He was faster than me but not as experienced, and I was learning how to use his arrogance against him. He swung high—I ducked low. Slammed my shoulder into his stomach and sent him sprawling.

He landed with a grunt.

"Nice," he wheezed.

"Again." I offered him a hand up, my chest heaving.

We reset. Repeated. Over and over until sweat soaked through my shirt and my vision blurred. The sun climbed high, beating down on the field, but I didn't stop.

It wasn't until I leaned on a tree near the edge of the training yard to catch my breath that I realized something wasn't right.

There were only men out here.

I frowned, squinting through the crowd of warriors. Thirty, maybe more. All of them in various states of sparring or observing. And every single one of them—male.

Where were the women?

I scanned again, slower this time. Maybe someone had paired off for a break. Maybe—

No. Nothing.

Not a single female enforcer. Not even one female trainee. Just the distant sight of pack mothers crossing the back lawns, ushering children inside, or carrying laundry baskets.

I blinked. My stomach twisted.

I hadn't noticed it until now. Maybe because I'd been so focused on my own recovery. Maybe because I'd spent years believing things were just as I left them.

But they weren't. They were worse.

I waited until Zeke gave the signal to end the session before slipping away. The ache in my body was drowned out by the gnawing sense of wrongness eating at my insides.

I needed answers.

And there was only one person I trusted enough to give them to me straight. I found Lucy folding napkins in the main kitchen, her hands trembling slightly like they always did when she thought no one was looking.

"Hey." I kept my voice casual. She jumped anyway, eyes wide until she saw it was me.

"Sky." She smiled tightly. "Didn't hear you come in."

"Can we talk?" I asked, glancing around the empty kitchen.

"I'm not supposed to—" She hesitated, her smile faltering. "Please." That word seemed to crack something. She nodded, drying her hands and motioning toward the pantry. We stepped inside, pulling the door shut behind us.

"What's going on?" she asked softly, voice tight.

"I need to know something," I said. "And I need the truth, Lucy. No pretty lies. No pack loyalty bullshit." She tensed. I saw the fear in her eyes before I even asked.

"Where are the women?"

Lucy blinked.

"Not the mates or the omegas. I mean the fighters. The enforcers. The ones who used to train beside me." I asked as I stepped closer.

She opened her mouth. Then closed it.

"Lucy." She looked away, shaking her head slowly.

"Tell me." A moment passed. Then another.

"They're gone." Finally, she whispered.

"Gone where?" My heart stuttered. Her eyes filled with something hollow. Something haunted.

"Unmated women don't have a place here anymore. Not in the ranks. Not in the guard. Not in anything."

"What the hell does that mean?" I stared.

"It means we're kept apart. Watched. Controlled." Her voice shook now, like she was confessing something punishable. "They use us when they want. And when we don't obey…"

"What happens, Lucy?" She swallowed hard but didn't answer.

"Where do they go?" I grabbed her arm. Lucy's lips trembled. Her gaze flicked to the pantry door like she was afraid it might burst open at any second.

"You don't want to know," she whispered.

But I did.

I had to.

The pieces were falling into place—like every conversation, every rule, every warning had been laced with a deeper poison I'd missed.

This pack didn't just control their women.

They eliminated them.

I didn't remember leaving the kitchen. Didn't remember walking through the corridors or up the stairs. My legs moved on autopilot. The next thing I knew, I was standing outside Neo's office, my hand already on the door.

I didn't knock.

I never knocked.

I shoved the door open with a force that made it rattle against the wall.

Neo looked up from his desk, brows raising.

"Well," he drawled. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

My blood boiled. But my voice came out calm. Too calm.

"We need to talk." I spewed as his lips twitched.

"Oh really?" He asked, unbothered by my presence. I paused. The room wasn't empty like I expected. Two of Neo's advisors were seated at the long side table, pouring over maps and sealed documents, while another warrior—an enforcer—stood near the far wall, arms crossed, eyes flicking between us like he was waiting for a command to pounce.

My glare cut through them. "Out."

No one moved.

"Stay." Neo didn't even glance their way. I turned back to him slowly, my expression blank, but my blood roaring.

"Out." I said again, louder, deeper—this time dragging on something beneath my skin, that pulse I didn't fully understand. It swelled in my chest and cracked in my voice as I let it loose.

The effect was instant.

A strange tension rippled through the room like a static wave. The enforcer flinched. One of the advisors stood so fast his chair scraped backward with a squeal. The others followed, eyes down, feet fast. They didn't question it.

They just left.

The door clicked shut behind them.

And I moved.

Storming across the room, I slammed my palms down on Neo's desk, leaning forward, eyes locked on his. His brows furrowed as he leaned back slowly in his chair, teeth grinding.

"Well," I hissed, "let's talk."