The silver in Ethan’s eyes wasn't just magnetic; it was the predatory glint of an Alpha who had scented blood. It was a gaze that froze the marrow in your bones.

Mason’s face drained of all color, his cocky posture collapsing as he scrambled toward the door.

"Collins... I mean, Uncle Collins... it's late. I'll leave you and Uncle Ethan to your... rest!"

He didn't just walk out; he fled, the scent of his fear lingering in the air like burnt rubber. My chest tightened as I watched him bolt. My own wolf was whimpering, trembling at the sheer intensity radiating from the bed.

Was Ethan truly coming back from the brink? Was the King of the Silvercrest Rink not ready for the Great Hunt in the sky?

I wanted to demand answers, but my throat felt like it was filled with dry ice. I wanted to move closer, to see if he was really there, but my feet were fused to the floor. Panic finally broke my paralysis, and I stumbled out into the hallway, shouting for help.

"Patricia! Ethan’s eyes! He opened them!"

Patricia Bennett, the head of the household staff, came charging up the stairs, her expression more weary than surprised.

"Master Ethan opens his eyes every sun-cycle, Collins. It doesn't mean his soul has returned to his body. Look at him—he isn't tracking your movement or responding to our scents." She let out a long, heavy sigh. "Dr. Harris says the odds of a wolf waking once the mental bond is shattered are nearly zero."

The unease didn't leave me. "Can we keep the fireplace roaring tonight? I’m... the dark feels heavy."

"Of course," Patricia nodded. "Rest now. You have to visit the High Pack Manor tomorrow to see Margaret. I’ll wake you at dawn."

I changed into my silk sleepwear and climbed into the massive bed, feeling like a small bird nesting next to a dormant volcano. I sat stiffly, studying his rugged, motionless features. I waved a hand tentatively in front of his face.

"What are you hunting in your dreams, Ethan?" I whispered. No answer.

A sudden wave of grief crashed over me. My own betrayal by Mason and Denise felt small compared to this—a titan of the ice reduced to a statue.

"I hope you fight your way back, Ethan. If that parasite Mason gets his claws on the Silvercrest Holdings, you won't be able to howl in peace."

The moment the words left my lips, Ethan’s heavy lids slid shut.

My heart thundered against my ribs. I stared at him, paralyzed. Wolves are sensitive to intent; even in a coma, could he hear me? I lay down beside him, my mind spinning. I was officially a Carter now. For the moment, I was protected by his name.

But what happens when his heart finally stops?

My jaw tightened. I had to use this window of time. While I was the consort of the Silvercrest Alpha, I would reclaim everything Denise and Savannah stole from me. Everyone who treated me like a pawn was about to find out I could play the game, too.

At eight the next morning, Patricia escorted me to the High Pack Manor to see Margaret Carter. The entire Carter lineage was gathered in the grand hall. I moved through the room, pouring ritual tea for the elders, playing the part of the dutiful mate.

Margaret watched me with sharp, calculating eyes. She seemed pleased with my restraint; an obedient omega was easier to keep on a leash.

"How was your first night in the fortress, Collins?" she asked.

"Quiet, thank you," I replied, my voice steady despite the flush on my cheeks.

"And Ethan? He wasn't a burden?"

I thought of his handsome, frozen mask and felt a strange pang of loyalty. "He was still. He didn't disturb me."

I didn't mention that in the middle of the night, I’d subconsciously sought his warmth, waking up draped across his chest like he was a heated pillow. The realization of what I'd done had kept me awake for hours.

"I have a welcoming gift for you," Margaret said, sliding a heavy silver box across the table. Inside was a cuff forged from lunar steel. "It matches your spirit. Do you like it?"

I knew better than to refuse the Matriarch. "It’s beautiful. Thank you."

"I know the burden you carry, Collins. Ethan isn't himself. But there is a way for this union to serve the pack legacy." She leaned in, her voice dropping to a low growl. "Ethan’s time is short. He spent his life on the ice and in the boardroom, never taking a mate or siring an heir. He has no cub to carry the Silvercrest torch."

I went cold. An heir? She wanted me to carry a child for a man who couldn't even speak?

"I want you to provide Ethan with a successor," Margaret declared.

The room went silent. The shock on the faces of the extended family mirrored my own.

"Mother, Ethan has been under heavy sedation and healing spells for months," Mason’s father, Mason's uncle, interjected. "He’s likely sterile."

Everyone already had their sights set on Ethan’s territory. They didn't want a new Alpha in the cradle.

Margaret smirked. "I’ve consulted with Dr. Harris. We have... methods. Silvercrest needs a blood-heir. Even a daughter would suffice to hold the seat."

All eyes turned to me, heavy with judgment and greed.

"You're still in the academy, aren't you, Collins?" Mason’s aunt chirped. "A pregnancy would ruin your chances of finishing your hockey stats."

"Exactly," her husband added. "Collins is far too young to be tethered to a nursery."

Margaret ignored them, looking directly at me. "Are you willing, Collins? You should realize that you and the cub would inherit the entirety of the Silvercrest estate. It’s a fortune that would make you the most powerful wolf in Valeria."

"I’ll do it," I said, my voice cutting through the room.

I saw the flicker of rage in Mason’s eyes and felt a surge of triumph. I would do anything to ensure he never touched a single credit of Ethan’s legacy. Besides, if I refused, this family would simply find a way to force me.

Margaret beamed. "Excellent. I knew you had more iron in your blood than those other vapid socialites."

After the gathering, I walked out into the crisp morning air, only to be intercepted by Mason. The sun was bright, the mountain birds were calling, and I felt like vomiting at the sight of him.

"Take the carriage ahead, Patricia," I said. She nodded and gave Mason a warning look before retreating.

Mason waited until we were alone under the pines. "You’re killing me, Collins! You wouldn't even let me scent your neck while we were together, and now you’re jumping into bed to breed for a dying man?"

"An heir means the estate is mine," I sneered, enjoying the way his face twisted. "Why wouldn't I take the crown?"

"It’s a clever play," Mason hissed, stepping into my space. "But why use him? We can have our own cub and tell the Matriarch it’s Ethan’s. It would still be a Carter. My grandmother would never know the difference."

My disgust turned into a cold, sharp blade.

"You’ve got plenty of greed, Mason, but you're lacking the brains to back it up," I warned. "Ethan’s inner circle—Brandon Hayes and the rest—are monsters. They are loyal to Ethan alone. If they find out I’m carrying your brat, they won't just exile you. They’ll hunt you for sport."

Mason flinched as if I’d struck him. He knew I was right. Ethan’s "minions" were the most feared enforcers in the Kingdom.

"I’m just joking!" Mason stammered, trying to reclaim his ego. "Whoever the father is, the kid is a Carter. When Ethan kicks the bucket, I’ll treat the cub like my own."

I sighed, looking at him with pure pity. "Mason, your uncle’s child would be your cousin. Try to keep your family tree straight."

He looked like he’d just bitten into a lemon.

"I’m leaving," I said. "Your grandmother has already sent Dr. Harris to the estate to begin the process."

Back at the mansion, I was immediately taken to the medical wing. Two specialized healers were waiting. The process was clinical and cold—if I was in my cycle, they would harvest; if not, they would trigger it.

"Don't be anxious, Collins," a female doctor said as she prepped the equipment. "This is a small price to pay for the security of the Carter name."

I lay back on the cold table, my pulse racing. "How long until we know if it worked?"

"It's impossible to pinpoint the moon-cycle. If the stars align, we could see results in ninety to a hundred days. If not, it could be a cold eternity," Dr. Harris said, his voice echoing in the sterile medical wing of the estate.

He adjusted his glasses, offering a tight smile. "You've got the vitality of a young wolf, Collins. I expect your body to accept the essence without much resistance."

The weeks bled into each other until the first frost of autumn settled over the Kingdom of Valeria. The air turned sharp, smelling of pine and upcoming snow.

I stepped out of the steam-filled bathroom, my skin still tingling from the hot spray. Dropping onto the edge of the massive bed, I reached for a tin of heavy winter salve I'd picked up at the village market. The winds were getting brutal, and even a shifter's skin could crack in this climate.

"Hey, Ethan," I murmured, glancing at the silent Alpha beside me. "The mountain air is getting dry. You want some of this? I doubt the nurses think about moisturizing your face."

I shifted closer, dipping my fingers into the cool cream. I began to work it into his skin, tracing the rugged lines of his jaw and the high arc of his cheekbones.

Suddenly, Ethan's eyes snapped open. They weren't the dull silver of a sleeper anymore; they were a searing, molten amber, glowing like twin hearths in the dim room.

The sheer predatory intensity of his stare hit me like a physical blow. My breath hitched, sticking in my throat. I was used to his eyes opening-it happened almost every day-but this was different. There was a soul behind the glass this time.

"Am I being too rough?" I whispered, my heart hammering against my ribs. I forced my hands to stay steady, continuing the rhythmic circles on his temples. "I'm barely pressing down, I swear."

To settle my own nerves, I started rambling, a habit I'd picked up during these long, quiet months.

"I saw some chatter on the pack links... they said the reason you never took a mate was because your wolf was broken or your body couldn't handle the heat. But looking at you now? I don't buy it. You've still got the build of a Captain. These arms... these legs... they're built for the ice."

I finished with his face and gave his bicep a playful, lingering pat through the fabric of his shirt. It was a light touch, meant for a man who couldn't feel it.

But the world stopped when a sound vibrated through the air-a sound that didn't come from me. It was a low, gravelly rasp.

"Was that you?" I gasped, recoiling so fast I nearly tumbled off the bed. My eyes went wide, fixed on him with frantic intensity. "Ethan? Did you just speak?"

Ethan didn't just look at me; he observed me. The hollow emptiness was gone, replaced by a searing cocktail of emerald rage, bone-deep suspicion, and cold hatred.

"Mrs. Bennett!" I screamed, bolting for the door like a pup fleeing a silver trap. "Patricia! He's awake! Ethan spoke to me! He's back!"

My skin was flushed, my pulse was a frantic drumbeat, and I could barely get enough air into my lungs.

Ethan Carter was back.

I was certain of it. It wasn't just the amber glow in his eyes-it was the word he had forced through his throat. Even though his voice was raw, like grinding stones, it carried the weight of an Alpha's command.

He had looked at me and demanded to know who I was.

My mind went completely white. Every person in Valeria had told me he was a ghost in a shell, a dying legend. I had never actually prepared for the moment the King of the Rink would demand an account of my presence in his sanctuary.

Within thirty minutes, the mansion was swarming. The silence of the estate was shattered by the arrival of the inner circle and the family.

"I knew your spirit was too strong to break, Ethan!" Margaret cried, her face wet with tears of genuine relief.

"Welcome back to the world, brother," Henry added, though his smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "You have no idea the shadow that fell over the pack. Mother's grief nearly turned her coat gray overnight."

After a grueling examination, Dr. Harris turned to Margaret, his voice trembling with awe. "This is a literal miracle. There were no neural markers for this yesterday. Now that Master Ethan is vocalizing, we just need to start the physical restoration. He'll be back on his skates before the playoffs."

The shock was too much for Margaret; her knees gave out, and she fainted into Henry's arms. He quickly carried her out to find her a smelling salt.

The doctor, Patricia, and the pack guards remained in the room, while I hovered by the doorframe. I was too terrified to cross the threshold.

The aura rolling off Ethan was suffocating. He was propped up against the headboard now, his shoulders broad and imposing even after months of atrophy. His gaze was like a hawk's, pinning me to the spot with an icy, lethal stare.

"Who is he?" Ethan growled, his voice a deep, vibrating threat that made the doctor flinch.

Patricia bowed her head, her voice hushed with reverence. "Master Ethan, this is the mate Margaret arranged for you during your slumber. His name is-"

Ethan's lips thinned into a hard, cruel line. His voice was flat, devoid of any warmth as he cut her off.

"Get him out of my sight. Now."

I recoiled as if Ethan had physically struck me. Awake, he was like an apex predator reclaiming his territory after a long hibernation. When he was under the sedation of the coma, he was a fallen legend; now, he was a walking storm of lethal intent.

Patricia Bennett gently shut the heavy oak door to the master suite, shutting the Alpha’s icy aura inside. She looked at me—the "sacrificial mate" caught in the crossfire—and softened her gaze.

"Don't let it rattle your wolf, Collins," she whispered. "Master Ethan has just clawed his way back to the living; he’s not ready to accept a bonded partner he didn't choose. Let’s get you settled in the north wing guest room. Sleep it off. Margaret is still the Matriarch, and she’s on your side."

My pulse was a frantic rhythm in my ears. I’d spent months bracing for his funeral, never once imagining I’d have to survive his resurrection.

"Patricia, my gear is still in there..." I glanced at the door. I needed my bag. After the way Ethan had looked at me—like I was a parasite—I knew my time in the inner sanctum was over. I needed to be ready to run at a moment's notice.

Patricia sighed. "If it isn't life-or-death, leave it. I’ll retrieve your things tomorrow when he’s at physical therapy."

"Fine," I muttered. "Are you... are you afraid of him?"

"I’ve served the Silvercrest Alphas for decades," she replied simply. "He is formidable, yes, but he has never been unjust to those who do their jobs."

I didn't sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw those molten amber eyes and felt the weight of his "Get him out" command. My life’s pace had just been shattered by a miracle I wasn't sure I wanted.

At eight the next morning, Patricia moved my belongings into the guest suite.

"Breakfast is served," she announced. "Master Ethan is already at the table. You should join him. You’re still the consort of this pack—you need to face him."

"I don't think he’s interested in a 'getting to know you' chat over coffee," I grimaced.

"He didn't growl when I told him Margaret had a soft spot for you," Patricia encouraged. "Maybe the morning air has cooled his temper."

When I walked into the dining room, the sight of him stole my breath. Ethan was in a high-tech motorized chair. His muscle memory was returning; his arms were already showing the corded strength of a hockey captain. Even seated, he commanded the room like he was standing at center ice.

I sat down, my fork trembling as I poked at my eggs. Ethan didn't utter a word, but I could feel his gaze—it felt like a laser targeting a weak spot.

"Hey... I’m... I’m Collins Parker," I stammered, trying to break the suffocating silence.

Ethan picked up his black coffee, the steam rising around his sharp features. His voice was a low, indifferent rasp. "I’ve been informed you might be carrying a Silvercrest heir."

My stomach did a somersault. I lost my appetite instantly.

"Do you prefer a surgical extraction or a pharmaceutical termination?"

He said it with the same clinical coldness he might use to discuss a trade deal. The blood drained from my face. I was a person to the rest of the world, but to him, I was just a complication to be deleted.

"Master Ethan," Patricia interceded, breaking protocol. "The heir was Margaret’s directive. Collins had no say in the matter."

"Do not use my mother as a shield," Ethan snapped, his eyes flashing gold. Patricia immediately bowed her head and fell silent.

"Ethan—" I started.

"Who gave you leave to use my name?"

I blinked, my fear momentarily replaced by a spark of irritation. "What should I call you? 'Captain'? Or maybe 'Honey'?"

Ethan’s grip tightened on his cup, his eyes darkening with a dangerous heat. Before he could unleash his Alpha command, I blurted out the truth.

"I’m not pregnant. My cycle started this morning. Ask Patricia or the cleaning staff if you don't believe me. I’m not carrying anything of yours."

The silence returned, heavy and thick. Ethan took a slow sip of his coffee. My stomach actually ached from the stress, so I forced myself to shovel down a few bites of breakfast just to have something to do. I needed to get out of this house.

"Have your papers ready," Ethan said, his voice dropping to a glacial temperature. "The dissolution of this union happens soon."

I didn't even look back. "Are we going to the High Court now?"

"In a few days," he replied. "My mother is in the medical wing with a spike in her blood pressure from the shock of my awakening. We wait until she’s stable."

"Fine. Just tell me when to sign," I said, retreating to my room to grab my bag.

When I came back down five minutes later, I saw a familiar, pathetic figure in the foyer.

It was Mason. He looked like a stray dog expecting a kick, standing stiffly beside Ethan’s chair.

"Uncle Ethan, my parents are at the hospital with the Matriarch, so they sent me to check on your recovery," Mason said, placing a crate of expensive supplements on the table.

Ethan didn't even look at the box. He just flicked his eyes toward one of his enforcers. Without a word, the guard swept the crate off the table and into the trash.

"Uncle Ethan!" Mason squeaked. "Those are top-tier vitamins! If you want something else, I can—"

Before he could finish, another guard kicked the back of Mason’s knees, forcing him to hit the marble floor with a loud thud.

I froze, holding my breath. I knew Ethan was cold, but seeing him treat his own blood like a traitor was another level of terrifying.

"My dear nephew," Ethan said, a cigarette appearing between his fingers. A guard lit it instantly. "You must be gutted to see me breathing again."

I was stunned. He’d been in a coma for half a year and he was already drinking caffeine and smoking? The man was made of iron and spite.

Mason began to shake. "Of course I'm happy... I always scented a recovery for you..."

"Are you lying to my face?" Ethan raised a dark brow. His tone was casual, but the murderous intent was vibrating through the room. "You thought I wouldn't find out you were bribing Silvercrest’s legal counsel to partition my estate?"

He coolly flicked his cigarette ash onto Mason’s shoulder. "Get out. If you scent this air again before I’ve decided your fate, I’ll feed you to the hounds."

Mason scrambled out of the mansion like his tail was on fire. I didn't wait around for Ethan to turn that gaze on me. I clutched my bag and hurried out the door.

I had a secret of my own to deal with. My "cycle" hadn't been a cycle at all. It was just a small amount of spotting, and I felt... off.

I arrived at the pack clinic and requested an ultrasound. An hour later, the healer handed me the results, and the world tilted on its axis.

There was no internal bleeding. What there was... was a tiny, glowing spark on the monitor. A gestational sac.

I was pregnant. With the Alpha’s cub.

"Doctor, what if I don't want to carry this to term?" My voice was a frantic whisper. I was days away from a divorce; I couldn't be tethered to Ethan Carter forever.

The healer looked at me over her spectacles. "Why wouldn't you? Do you know how rare it is for a shattered Alpha’s line to continue? Where is your mate? You should talk to him."

"I... I’m basically single!" I snapped.

"Look, you're only 21. If you want a termination, I can't book the procedure today. Go home. Think. Whatever is happening between you and the father, the cub is innocent of it." She handed me my file. "Given the spotting, if you don't take the stabilizers I'm prescribing, nature might make the choice for you anyway."

My heart softened in spite of my fear. "What do I need to do to protect it?"

"I thought you wanted out?" she teased gently. "You're a handsome lad; this baby will be stunning. If you want to keep it, take these, get a week of bedrest, and come back for a scan."

The Kingdom's sun was blinding as I left the clinic, my legs feeling like lead. I was lost. I couldn't tell Ethan—he’d have me on an operating table before I could blink.

I took a transport to Uncle Daniel’s house. Since my father, Andrew Parker, had lost the franchise and the house, my mother, Natalie Brooks, had moved in with her brother. Daniel was a good man, but his husband, Victor Brooks, was another story.

"Collins! Empty-handed again?" Victor’s voice was like a whip as I walked in. "I heard you brought a truckload of gifts to your father’s place last week. I guess 'family' only matters when there's a title involved."

"I'm sorry, Victor. I'll make it up to you," I mumbled.

"Forget it! From the looks of you, Ethan’s already kicked you to the curb. I heard the King is awake. If he actually liked you, you wouldn't be lurking around here looking for your mother."

My cheeks burned. Seeing me get torn down, my mom stepped in. "Victor, that's enough. Even if he is leaving the Carters, he's my son."

"Don't get high and mighty, Natalie! Remember whose roof is over your head. If you don't like my tone, find a rental!"

My heart twisted. I had no idea things were this toxic for her here.

"Mom, let's get you out of here," I said firmly. "I have some credits saved. We'll find a place."

"I'm fine, Collins," she said with a sad smile. "I stayed because Grandpa Elio was sick and needed the care. Now that he's gone... yeah. Let's go."

We were out in thirty minutes. As we sat in the cab, I looked at her. "Victor was right about one thing, Mom. I'm divorcing Ethan in a few days."

She squeezed my hand. "It's okay. You can focus on your thesis now."

"Yeah," I whispered, leaning on her shoulder. I couldn't tell her about the pregnancy. She’d never stop worrying.

When I returned to the Carter fortress that night, it was deathly silent. Patricia startled me in the hall.

"Dinner is in the warmer, Collins. I also got you those... supplies... you mentioned this morning."

"Thanks, Patricia. Is he... out?"

"Master Ethan left for the Silvercrest offices. The healers told him to stay in bed, but he doesn't take orders," she sighed.

I spent the night tossing and turning, the reality of the child growing inside me making it impossible to find peace.

The next morning, I waited until 9:30 a.m. to leave my room, desperate to avoid another icy confrontation. Patricia knocked on my door. "He’s gone for the day. You can eat in peace."

After breakfast, I got a call from a college friend. "Collins, I've got a translation gig for you. It's a heavy manual for a hockey equipment manufacturer, but the pay is triple the usual rate if you can finish by noon."

I was desperate for credits. If I chose to have the surgery, I needed to pay for it myself. I finished the work by 11:30 a.m., but as I went to send the file, my laptop screen flickered and died. A total crash.

"Patricia! My laptop is dead and I have a deadline! Is there another computer I can use? Just for five minutes!"

"Only Master Ethan’s in the study."

My blood turned to ice. "I can't go in there."

"It's just one file, Collins. Master Ethan is a hard man, but he understands business. If you're quick, he'll never know."

I looked at the clock. 11:50 a.m. I needed that money. I told myself that since Ethan was technically the father, using his computer to earn medical fees for his heir was only fair.

I slipped into the dark, oak-paneled study. It smelled of cedar and expensive tobacco. I sat at the desk and hit the power button. I braced myself for a password screen, but the monitor flared to life instantly, bypasses active.