Eva’s boots left dark, wet crescent shapes on the granite floor as she veered away from the exit.

She didn't run toward the heavy iron-studded doors.

She didn't slide down to her knees to beg the high council for mercy, or scream for a second chance from the man on the dais.

Instead, her stride remained fluid.

Deliberate.

Calm.

She walked straight toward the massive, stone-ringed sacred ceremonial fire pit glowing in the center of the eastern wing.

The white-hot silver flames danced inside the pit, casting long, violent reflections across her pale skin.

Every single purebred warrior on the stone benches tracked her movement, their breath catching in a collective, confused wheeze.

Tanya Bennett’s triumphant smile faltered at the edge of the stage stairs.

Her manicured hand froze mid-air.

"What is she doing?" Tanya hissed, her voice cutting through the high timbered ceiling. "Guards! Grab her!"

The Enforcers didn't move.

Their heavy boots remained glued to the floorboards, their eyes locked on the terrifying, icy authority radiating from the broken Omega.

Eva stopped at the iron perimeter of the fire pit.

The intense heat blasted against her face, drying the residual blood on her chin into a dark, brittle crust.

She reached behind her waist, her frozen fingers untying the rough twine that held her stained canvas supply pack together.

She reached deep into the bottom of the sack.

Her hand emerged clutching a massive, heavy dark object.

The old winter wool coat.

The exact garment Killian Vance had thrown over her bleeding, whipped shoulders during her sixteenth winter.

She had carried it with her for two full years like a holy relic, washing it by hand in the freezing river slush, mending every frayed thread with stolen kitchen needles.

It still bore the thick silver embroidery of the coiled wolf head lining the interior fabric.

An emotional anchor.

A heavy, physical tie to a man who no longer existed.

Eva lifted the massive coat above the glowing rim of the pit, her grip iron-tight on the collar.

"Eva, don't—"

The low, involuntary gravelly sound ripped directly from Killian’s throat before he could clamp his jaw shut.

He took a sudden, uncoordinated step forward on the highest tier of the dais.

A sudden, hollow panic fractured his rigid posture.

The frozen amber in his eyes cracked wide open, revealing a flash of absolute, instinctual terror underneath.

Eva didn't blink.

She didn't look back at him.

Her emotional ties to the Blackwood pack severed completely, the last remaining thread snapping silently inside her cold chest.

She opened her fingers.

She dropped the heavy wool coat directly into the center of the white-hot silver flames.

WOOSH.

The sacred fire hungrily swallowed the fabric, the silver embroidery flaring into a blinding, green-tinted electrical spark as the heat melted the metal thread.

A thick, dark column of smoke billowed upward toward the high rafters.

The burning coat scent exploded through the dense air of the Grand Hall.

Ozone.

Raw cedar wood.

The unique, dominant scent-signature of Killian's bloodline, now being violently turned to ash and soot.

The heavy aroma rushed straight into Killian’s system, suffocating his inner wolf with a toxic wave of pure, unadulterated guilt.

Thorin thrashed violently within his skull, letting out a raw, clawing scream of agony that threatened to tear Killian's mental shields into bloody ribbons.

The Alpha dropped his head, his hand slamming onto the stone altar to keep his 195cm frame from collapsing right there in front of the elders.

He choked on his own saliva, his throat burning with the phantom scent of his own destroyed loyalty.

Eva stood before the rising flames, the green light illuminating the hard, stubborn line of her nose.

She turned her body back toward the rows of elite warriors, her chest rising and falling in a slow, chilling rhythm.

"I, Evangeline Frost, strip myself of your name," her voice boomed through the quiet space, a clear, icy bell that left no room for interpretation.

"I have no pack."

"I have no Alpha."

"I proudly declare myself a free rogue."

A collective gasp rippled through the higher tiers, council elders standing up so fast their silver-trimmed chairs rattled against the granite.

A rogue.

An unbonded wolf choosing the wild death-zone over submission to the Blackwood throne.

"You will die out there within three days, orphan!" the Chief Beta yelled, his fist slamming onto his dagger hilt.

Eva didn't answer him.

She didn't give him a single fraction of her focus.

She turned her back on the burning pit, her boots clicking rhythmically against the stone as she resumed her march toward the front entrance.

Leaving Blackwood behind forever.

Tanya Bennett watched her go, her teeth grinding together so hard her jaw muscle twitched under her pale skin.

"Let her go," Tanya muttered, her fingers curling tightly around the empty space of her ruined dress hem. "She's a dead woman walking anyway."

The massive iron-studded oak doors groaned open as Eva approached.

The two Enforcers at the threshold stepped aside without a word, their eyes lowered, their systems still unnerved by the cold-eyed predator that had just stood up from a spiritual execution.

Eva stepped over the threshold.

The sub-zero mountain air hit her skin like a thousand tiny needles, but her limbs didn't shake.

The internal, electric fire beneath her ribs was roaring now, keeping the blood warm in her veins.

She walked out into the pouring rain and heavy, drifting sleet of the northern courtyard.

The storm swallowed her small frame within three steps, the grey mist closing like a curtain behind her heels.

Behind her, inside the warmth of the Grand Hall, the silver flames in the pit began to die down into cold, black soot.

Killian Vance remained frozen on the platform, his fingers digging so deep into the ceremonial stone altar that the granite fractured beneath his nails.

His amber eyes stared into the dark, empty aisle where she had just been standing.

The silence inside his pack house was absolute.

And for the first time since his coronation, the Alpha felt entirely cold.