I couldn't tell you when the pain stopped. I couldn't tell you how long I felt it, and I couldn't tell you why, either. All I know is that I'm still lying in this bed, staring up at the ceiling as the last of the pain slowly fades away.

Never, in my twenty-one years of life, have I been subjected to such intense pain. I could barely describe it, but if I had to, I would say it's similar to being thrown into a flaming pit of jagged rocks, while simultaneously having a bulldozer roll over top of you, repeatedly.

Yes, it was that bad. And the worst part is that it didn't let up. If anything, it got progressively worse as the torturously slow minutes passed.

Carter is sitting next to my bed in silence. Honestly, I don't understand why he's still here. Best friend or not, what he said is something I'm not going to forgive. But I guess I can be grateful that he stayed by my side.

I take a deep breath once the pain ebbs away, bracing myself to jump straight into work. With a groan, I push myself onto my elbows. Even though whatever the cause of this pain was has disappeared, it left a lot of stiffness in my muscles, making each move more difficult than it should be.

"Lay back down," Carter orders, pushing down on my shoulder to try and get me back down.

"We need to get to work," I grind out, gritting my teeth as I fully push myself up, flexing and stretching my arms out.

"Not until Doc gives you the clear," he says.

"I'm fine." I stand up, carefully, and push a hand through my hair, which is damp with sweat.

"Alpha Cayton, I wouldn't advise that." The pack doctor comes in, not daring to try and push me back down like Carter is.

"We have a lot of shit to do, and we're wasting time," I say. No one objects when I stand up and exit the room, headed straight for my office. And the sight that greets me when I arrive is the last thing I would have expected.

About seven people are all sitting in the room. Tami and Trenton are on the couch; Tami curled up in Trenton's lap, fast asleep. However, what's really off is the fact that my mother is sitting in my desk chair, tears in her eyes. At first, I thought it might be that she's worried about me, but then I saw she was holding her side, and her expression was none other than pain.

Michael, Drake, and Hunter were all three surrounding her, trying to coax something out of her.

I pinched the bridge of my nose, letting out a frustrated sigh. I can already tell my attention is going to be pulled in about fifty different directions. And I don't know why, but there is the unmistakable scent of a human in this room.

My eyes scan over the room, landing on a young girl sitting against the wall, her arms wrapped around her as she warily looks around the room. She couldn't be any older than sixteen, probably less.

'That's Kaitlyn,' Hunter's voice comes in my head, and I turn my head to see him looking at Kaitlyn with the same look I'm sure I give Alexis.

'Your mate, I assume?' He nods in response. 'And you brought her here because...'

'We were hanging out at Mark and Fran's, and well, your mom came in looking like this—'

I cut him off as I step over, trying to make sense of my mother's muttered rambling. I try to get her to look at me, but she just keeps shaking her head, trying to wipe tears away with the back of her hand. Sighing, I know the only way to get answers is going through her head.

It's an ability only the Alpha has, or two mates to each other. I don't like using it much—especially without the other's permission—but this is my mother we're talking about, and she isn't being of use right now. Plus, I already have a sneaking suspicion of what's going on.

That pain, there is really only one thing that could cause that much pain to a werewolf. And every werewolf experiences it once in his or her life—around sixteen when they have their first shift. And since I'm well passed that, there is only one other logical explanation.

And I swear to God if it's what I think it is, this calm façade I've managed to keep up is going to crumbled to pieces. Just thinking about it has me bloodthirsty.

I tap into my mother's mind with next to no effort. All of her thought's center around one thing, that being my dad.

"My dad was attacked," I say aloud, getting the information piece by piece. I'm aware of some shuffling behind me, and I assume Hunter decided to get his mate out of the room. "He's in a critical condition..."

The last thing I see has me frozen to the spot. Somehow, my mother managed to tap into Dad's head as well, and only one thing was clear.

And nothing mattered after that, because I saw red.

"Carter, Drake, Michael, let's go," I bark out, barely stopping myself from shifting here and now.

I was back to square one.

As if my life is a cycle, a constant loop of events. I don't know if it will be easier this time, or harder. Last time, I lost my sister. This time, I'm losing my mate. And I don't know which is worse.

I twist the knob on the all-too familiar door, taking a deep breath to brace myself. There are many memories associated with this room—most of them dreadful—but I know I have to face them eventually. That, or sleep on the couch.

I step into the room, my arms wrapped tightly around myself as I look around. It's exactly how I left it. Bright neon picture frames hung up, encasing some of my fondest memories. The walls still have the paint-splatter decals on them, and my bed is still covered in the light blue comforter set. Exactly how I left it three years ago.

It's all much more bright and happy than I am now, but seeing it reminds me of the happier times.

My desktop is still scattered with all the crude charcoal sketches I never got around to finishing. The ones I did finish are pinned up right above the desk on a corkboard, the only thing off-putting the cheerful atmosphere.

I usually drew pictures on the nights that the depression hit me. Not from Erica's death, she was alive at the time, but from my parent's. When I couldn't sleep, I would just draw, letting my hands take over for me. The pictures were often gloomy, but beautiful nonetheless, which is the only reason I kept them.

Sighing, I sit on the edge of my bed, my arms still tightly around me. I make sure not to let the silver touch any more exposed skin—the burning on my wrists is already bad enough without spreading it to other places.

And that's how I sit for the next hour, staring into emptiness as I let the situation process correctly. I want to cry, scream, lash out, but there is simply no emotion left in me.

I suppose it's for the best though. This whole experience will be easier without emotions getting in the way.

On the bright side, Joshua will leave the Dusk Valley pack alone. The whole thing was stressing Carter out; at least he can take a break from it.

Then again, I highly doubt that this situation is over. I can only imagine what Cayton is going to do when Macy arrives with Warren. And she's going to tell Carter what happened...

I wish I could tell him myself. However, until Joshua removes these silver bands from my wrist—which he certainly won't be doing anytime soon—I'm incapable of performing most things that werewolves can.

Silver stops werewolves from shifting, and hinders their ability to mind-link. Therefore, I can't mind-link Carter, and he can't mind-link me. If he tried, all he would do is run into a wall. Even Alpha Cayton can't tap into my mind because of the silver.

But as long as the silver never enters my bloodstream, I'll stay alive. Frankly, I don't know if it's worth it.

I don't want to be here. I'm in danger here, and that danger is not Joshua.

He may be a little insane since Erica's death—after all, losing your mate does that to a person—but if there's one thing that's stayed sane, it's his memories. He knows that there was only one other person on this planet that Erica loved as much as him, and that was me.

After our parent's death, all we had was each other. She became everything to me—a mom, a dad, a sister, a friend—and it was like that for a good year. That is, until she met Joshua.

Things started to look up for us. We moved in with Joshua, and Erica was happy again, which made me happy. Joshua was great to her, and me. He treated me like his little sister—which I guess I sort of was.

Until, of course, Erica was murdered.

Things spiraled downhill from there. I don't like thinking about that time in my life, and I avoid thinking about it as much as possible. Except, I can't control the nightmares that come from it. But at least I had Carter. I never told him what they were about, much to his displeasure.

Now, I have to face the cause of these nightmares alone.

A knock on the door startles me, and the person comes in without my ok.

I immediately scoot as far away from the door as possible when Roy steps in, wearing that disquieting smirk he usually has on his face. Thankfully, he leaves the door open when he steps in, but it doesn't comfort me. Especially since he finds it ok to casually stroll in like this is his room.

"Long time no see, huh?" he says, looking around the room before settling his unsettling brown eyes on me. I don't respond, choosing to glare at him instead. He isn't fazed. If anything, his smirk only grows wider—and unless it's my mind tricking me, there is a hint of wickedness in that simple smirk.

"You were never one for talking much, were you?" he continues. "I only remember you only ever talking to Joshua. Or Erica."

I remain quiet.

"So, what have you been up to?"

Silence.

He stares at me, eyebrow cocked, an innocuous look on his face. Finally, he shrugs. "Alright, suit yourself." He stands up, examining a picture hanging on my wall. "Joshua sent me to tell you that he wants you to meet him in his office once you're settled in." He brushes a finger on the frame of the picture he's examining, before turning back to me for his final words.

"Such a shame your sister had to die," he says sympathetically. With that, he tips two fingers in a goodbye gesture, before leaving, shutting my door behind him.

The longer I sat in that room, the more time I gave myself to get lost in all the memories associated with it. It didn't help that all the pictures included someone who is no longer apart of my life—whether it be my parents, Erica, or even the old Joshua.

I knew that if I didn't come down sooner or later, Joshua would come up himself. So with reluctance, I left my room and went to Joshua's office.

I was glad that when I arrived, Roy was nowhere to be seen. Joshua is sitting at his desk, a folded up picture in his hand. When he sees me, he smiles and folds the photo back up and puts it in his pocket. I give a small, half-hearted smile back.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not happy about any of this, but Joshua isn't the bad guy here. Well, on my side at least. I'm sure Cayton, Carter, and Alexis will disagree with me on that. And yes, it was wrong of him to do that to Alexis, but Warren had set it all up. The only reason Joshua went through with it is because he wanted me back that bad.

In the grand scheme of things, Joshua isn't the problem. Of course, that could be a little biased on my part, but I believe it's true.

"Have a seat Beth," he says.

"Bethany," I correct. Erica used to call me Beth. I haven't let anyone use it since her death.

"Bethany," he repeats. I nod, taking one of the two chairs that sit in front of his desk. "I'm sorry about the silver," he starts as I rub my wrists uncomfortably. "But it's necessary."

"Right," I mutter. He folds his hands and places them on top of his desk, staring at me intently.

"We have a lot to talk about, you know. And over the past three years, I have a great deal of things to say."

I keep quiet, feeling like a child being scolded by their parent. I already know the direction this conversation is headed in, and frankly, I don't want to hear it. Nevertheless, Joshua continues.

"I know you've had trouble coping with Erica's... death," even his own voice gets choked up, "but running away wasn't the right solution. It's dangerous out there; you could have gotten yourself killed."

I nod to show I'm listening, even though I disagree.

He sighs, pulling the picture back out of his pocket and unfolding it. "You know, I promised your sister that I would always look after you, keep you safe."

I swear I saw the glisten of a tear in his eye, before he blinked and it disappeared. That alone is a spectacle I will probably never see again. Even when Erica died, and you knew he was just seconds away from falling apart, he never once shed a tear. If he did, he made sure no one saw him.

It breaks my heart to see anyone cry, especially over the death of a loved one.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I decide to say something. "I know you did. But, I was safe. The only danger I was in was because of you."

He tore his eyes away from the picture to scowl at me.

"I never once put you in danger," he defends.

"I had to worry on a daily basis that I was going to get attacked by one of your men, or my friends would, or my mate-"

"Mate?" he repeats in disbelief, like me actually finding my mate is a preposterous scenario.

"Yes, Joshua, I found my mate. The Beta of the Dusk Valley pack."

I knew I shouldn't have said anything the second it came out of my mouth. Joshua's eyes turned black with anger at the mention of Dusk Valley. His grudge against them is tremendous, since some rogue from their pack was charged with Erica's murder.

"Tell me you're kidding," Joshua demands, his voice at a spine-chilling level. I was frozen, not able to make any sort of gesture or sentence to confirm what I had just said. "Then tell me you rejected him."

I look down at my hands.

"You didn't reject the Beta of the pack that was responsible for your sister's death?!" Joshua was yelling now, but his voice still carried his power, which was enough to make me bow my head in submission. Somehow, I get a spark of courage to speak up. Probably in defense of my mate.

"It wasn't his fault," I say, willing my voice to sound stronger. "I don't blame anyone from that pack." Because it wasn't any of them, I add silently. Besides, Carter wasn't even the Beta when it happened. His Dad was.

"Wasn't his fault," he scoffs in disgust. "Y-"

Before I could get an earful from Joshua, his phone started ringing, and I sent a silent thank you to whoever was calling.

I tried not listening in on his conversation, and it was easy once I got lost in my own thoughts. As expected, everything in my mind revolved around Carter.

I hope revealing that he's my mate to Joshua won't send him on a bat-shit crazy rampage. The last thing we need is a fight between the packs, especially when Cayton and Carter will, no doubt, be too occupied with Macy and I.

Oh, I hope Macy made it back ok. I can't say I wish the same for Warren, but I highly doubt he's going to have a happy ending either way. I wonder how well Macy will adjust. She's a strange one, that's for sure, but I think that just might help her cope better. Especially when you have to get used to that wolf-voice in your head that pops up every so often.

Joshua shoves the phone in his pocket, and his eyes have thankfully lightened, but there is still some darkness in his green eyes.

"Who was that?" I ask, trying to avoid whatever he has to say about Carter. Lord only knows where that conversation will go.

He grinds his teeth together, before deciding to answer me. "Donny. He was on border patrol with the young wolf he's training and they caught a rogue trespassing."

"Are they bringing them here?" Joshua always has them bring anyone caught trespassing, if my memory serves me right.

He shakes his head. "No, I'm much too busy," he gives me a pointed look, "they're taking her to the pack prison."

"It's a girl?" A female rogue is something you rarely ever see, simply for the fact that packs are very protective over their females.

It couldn't be...

"Yes," he responds, seeming to not put two and two together as I think I have. "Now, back to what we were discussing..."

I tune out as he lectures, rants, and yells at me. I'm too focused on the rogue. It couldn't possibly be Macy, could it? I mean, she was with Warren when we left. And, no offence to her, there is no way she could have gotten away from him. Not only is she smaller than average, her skills are far too novice for her to be able to take on an Alpha wolf. Hell, most trained wolves can't take on an Alpha wolf.

Then again, a rogue wouldn't have been caught so easily by a trainee. That sounds off though, because if she somehow managed to get away from Warren, she would have been evasive enough to not be caught by a trainee. Unless, you know, she got distracted, which seems very likely with Macy.

I just couldn't see Warren letting her go, or her getting away for that matter, so I simply pass it off as some other female who was unfortunate enough to be caught.

I do feel bad for her, being stuck in the pack prison. After all, there are most likely little to no females in there.

"Do you understand?" I nod, acting as if I had been listening the entire time. He sighs, rubbing his temples. "Are you just saying that?"

I nod again.