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.

The computer lacked any encryption, and the OS flared to life in seconds. My heart hammered against my ribs at the speed of it. Taking a jagged breath, I jammed the USB drive into the port and pulled up my mail server.

I attached the translation and hit send just as the clock struck noon.

It was terrifyingly easy. I had made the deadline. But as I moved to shut down the interface, my hand shook, and the trackpad skidded. I accidentally double-clicked a restricted folder. A window snapped open, and my eyes widened as I stared at the contents.

I stood there, paralyzed for five minutes, before I finally managed to close the screen and stumble out of the study.

Patricia Bennett let out a long, jagged sigh of relief when she saw me in the hall. "See? I told you the Alpha wouldn't be back from the Silvercrest offices this early."

I couldn't even find my voice. My mind was a static hum of what I'd just seen. I felt like I'd accidentally stumbled into the dark heart of Ethan's private world-a secret I was never meant to scent.

"Patricia... are there cameras in there?" I managed to choke out.

"Only in the corridor leading to the door," she replied.

The blood drained from my face. "Then he'll know. He'll know I crossed the threshold."

"Just be upfront with him when his scent hits the driveway. You were only in there for ten minutes. He's a rational Alpha; he won't cull you for a five-minute email," she tried to console me.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. A notification showed a transfer of three hundred and twenty credits. My jaw dropped. Two hours of work for that much? The influx of money settled some of the jagged glass in my chest. I didn't mean to pry, and I was already leaving. We were getting a divorce; whatever shadows he was hiding would be someone else's problem soon.

I retreated to my room after a quiet lunch and locked the door. I sat at the small vanity, pressing my hand against my flat stomach. "I don't want to lose you, little one," I whispered to the empty air. "But bringing a cub into this world... when my life is a blizzard... I don't know if I'm strong enough."

The exhaustion of the early pregnancy hit me like a physical weight, and I slumped over the table, falling into a heavy, dreamless sleep.

I was jolted awake hours later by the sound of frantic, heavy boots in the hallway. Before I could even rub the sleep from my eyes, my door was thrown open.

"Collins!" Patricia looked terrified. "Did you touch something on his drive? Anything besides the email?"

My heart leapt into my throat. "Is he back? Did he see the logs?"

Patricia was trembling. "He said you breached a secure sector. He's in a cold rage in the study, tearing through the digital footprints! I don't know how to protect you from this, Collins!"

I felt a wave of pure, primal terror. I was a dead man. At this rate, the divorce wouldn't matter because Ethan Carter was going to tear my throat out. Tears pricked my eyes.

"I'm so sorry, Patricia! I didn't mean to. My hand slipped when I was trying to exit... I swear, I only saw it for a second before I closed it..."

Patricia believed me, but her face remained grim. "He roared at me to get out. I might lose my position over this."

I couldn't let her take the fall. I stood up, my legs shaking, and walked out to face the Alpha.

The elevator dings on the ground floor. The doors slid open, and a guard pushed Ethan's chair out into the foyer. Even though the mansion was only three stories, the previous Alpha had installed the lift for accessibility.

Ethan looked like a vengeful god. His face was a mask of cold fury, his amber eyes burning with a lethal fire. I'd expected him to be annoyed, but this was a hunt.

"I'm sorry, Ethan," I said, my voice thick with a sob. "My laptop crashed and I had a deadline. I used your station without asking. Patricia tried to stop me-this is all on me. I forced my way in."

The guard stopped the chair in the center of the living room. Ethan's eyes were bloodshot, the gold light in them nearly blinding. He didn't speak for a long time.

"You saw it. All of it," he said, his voice a low, vibrating growl that chilled the room by ten degrees.

His hands were gripped on the armrests, his knuckles white as bone. If he weren't tethered to that chair, I knew he would have pinned me to the wall by my neck.

You reckless, stupid omega. Did I really think I was part of this pack? How dare I touch his private history?

I nodded, then shook my head frantically. "I don't even remember the details! It was a blur, I swear! I just wanted to shut the screen down and I clicked the wrong link-"

"Silence!" Ethan barked. The command hit me like a physical wave. "Get to your room. Do not cross that threshold again until the lawyers arrive with the decree."

I swallowed the rest of my excuses and bolted. I could feel the sheer loathing radiating off him like a physical heat. Once my door clicked shut, I heard his voice drift through the wood, cold and final.

"No meals for him. Not a drop."

He wasn't just locking me away; he was starving me out. Patricia didn't dare argue. In the Silvercrest fortress, Ethan's growl was the only law.

Two days later, the news came that Margaret's blood pressure had stabilized. She was released from the pack infirmary and came straight to the estate.

"How is your strength, Ethan? When will you be back on the ice?" she asked, her voice bright with hope as she greeted her son.

"I'm recovering," Ethan replied shortly. "But we need to talk about the dissolution of this arrangement, Mother."

Margaret's smile faltered. "The marriage? I handpicked Collins myself. He's a resilient boy, and I've grown fond of him. Where is he? You haven't sent him to the mountain peaks, have you?"

"He's in his quarters," Ethan said, signaling Patricia.

Patricia hurried to my room. It had been forty-eight hours since I'd had anything but tap water. She wasn't sure what she'd find.

Margaret stood in the doorway as the lock turned. I was curled in a ball on the floor, leaning against the cold stone wall, my hair a matted mess over my face. I looked up through a daze, my vision swimming.

"Collins! Moon Mother, what has happened?" Margaret cried. When she saw my face-gaunt and pale as a ghost-her own face went red with fury. "Ethan! Is this how you treat your mate? Are you an Alpha or a monster?"

Her voice trembled. I had lost weight I didn't have to spare. My lips were cracked and dry, and my chest felt heavy with every shallow breath. I tried to speak, but my throat was a desert.

Patricia rushed forward with a glass of warm milk, pressing it to my lips. "Drink this, Collins. It's okay now. The Matriarch is here."

Margaret stormed back into the living room, standing over Ethan's chair. "You are starving him? He is half the size he was a week ago! Are you trying to kill him before the ink is dry on the divorce?"

"He committed a trespass," Ethan said, his voice bored and lethal. "If it weren't for your interference, I would have broken more than his spirit. He crossed a line. He learned the price."

"A trespass? What could he possibly have done?"

In Margaret's eyes, I was a perfect, submissive pawn. She couldn't imagine me being bold enough to anger her son. Ethan just stared at her, his lips pressed into a thin, tight line.

"I know why you fear intimacy, Ethan," Margaret said softly, her eyes filling with tears. "But I won't let you do this. Collins is a good boy. Even if this union is only a shadow on paper, you will keep him as your consort!"

She grew more hysterical, her scent turning sour with stress. Ethan saw her swaying and signaled his guards to catch her.

"As long as I draw breath, you will not cast him out! You want a divorce? Find a girl or a boy you actually care for first! I won't let you live as a lone wolf!" Margaret screamed as they helped her to the sofa.

The stress was too much. Her head tilted back, and for the second time in a week, the Matriarch of the Carters was rushed back to the hospital.

Ethan hadn't expected her to be so stubborn. He'd wanted me gone, but now his mother's life was tied to my presence. He hated me, and he hated all omegas, but he couldn't kill his mother to satisfy his spite.

In the guest room, the milk had brought a tiny bit of life back to my limbs. I heard everything. I heard the Alpha's cruelty and the Matriarch's desperate defense.

Patricia brought me a bowl of warm broth and began to gently brush the tangles out of my hair. "Did you hear, Collins? As long as she's fighting for you, he won't kick you out."

I looked at her, my voice a jagged rasp. "I want out. Whether he lets me go or not, I am leaving this fortress."

I wouldn't stay another hour in this cage with that devil.

"Eat your broth," Patricia said sadly. "I have to see what the Alpha commands next."

She met Ethan at the door. He was being pushed toward my room. "He's still very weak, Master Ethan," she warned.

Ethan didn't change his expression, but his eyes were like frozen lakes. I looked up as he entered, our gazes clashing with the force of an on-ice collision.

"Let's end this, Ethan!" I snapped, putting down the bowl and grabbing the suitcase I'd packed days ago. I forced myself to stand, even as my knees wobbled. "Go find someone you actually want to mark!"

Ethan's eyes narrowed to slits. "You hate me that much? You think you're the victim here after what you did?"

"I was wrong to touch your computer. I paid for it with two days of hunger. We're even. Give me the papers, or I'll go to the Pack Council myself."

Seeing my desperation to leave, a cruel smirk touched Ethan's lips. "Did I say your penance was finished?"

I felt like he'd struck me across the face.

"Since staying by my side is such a nightmare for you... you will remain the Consort of Silvercrest."

His tone was final. An Alpha's decree. "We will divorce when I decide the time is right for my mother's health. Not a moment before."

He signaled his guard to wheel him away. I watched his back, my teeth bared in a silent snarl. He thought he could own me? He thought I would just wait for his permission?

A sudden wave of vertigo hit me. My ankles gave out, and I collapsed onto the bed, the world spinning in shades of gray. I needed to calm down. If he wasn't letting me go yet, I just had to be patient. I had to wait for Margaret to recover.

A week later, I had regained enough strength to walk. I went to the pack clinic for a follow-up. I was certain the baby was gone. Two days of starvation and extreme stress-there was no way a tiny life could survive that blizzard.

I sat on the exam table, feeling hollow. "Doctor... did I lose it?"

"Why would you think that?" the healer asked, moving the wand over my abdomen.

"I didn't eat for forty-eight hours. I was under immense pressure..."

"Collins, wolves are hardy. Some omegas can't keep food down for a month during their first trimester and still deliver Alphas," she chuckled.

My heart hammered. "So, the baby...?"

"Congratulations, Collins. There isn't just one heartbeat on this monitor. You're carrying twins. Two heirs for the Silvercrest line."

There wasn’t a shadow of a second heartbeat during my first checkup.

I stared at the ultrasound in my lap, sitting in a daze on a cold bench in the pack clinic’s corridor. Just one week later, and the monitor had shown two distinct sparks of life. The healer told me the odds of a natural twin pregnancy for a shifter were incredibly low.

If I chose to end this now, I might never have this chance again.

I let out a jagged, bitter laugh. This was the handiwork of the Carters’ private specialists. When they had performed the procedure, they hadn't breathed a word about twins. To them, I wasn't a person or a mate—I was just a high-yield vessel for the Silvercrest legacy.

When the spotting started last week, I’d assumed my body was rejecting the link. When the Foster doctors heard, they figured the investment had failed. Once Ethan woke up and demanded a divorce, they hadn't even bothered to look at me again.

The weight of two lives now rested entirely on my shoulders.

My phone vibrated in my pocket. I’d been haunting the clinic for over an hour. I stood up and moved toward the exit, checking the screen. It was my mother.

"Collins, your father is fading! Get to the house now!"

Natalie’s voice was a hoarse, broken wreck. I froze.

Andrew was dying? How? I knew he’d been hospitalized after the Silvercrest Holdings pulled their support and the family business collapsed. He hadn't even been strong enough to attend my forced wedding.

I didn't realize he was at the edge of the abyss. My mind was a storm of conflicting scents. I had a jagged relationship with him; I couldn't forgive the way he’d betrayed my mother with Denise Harper. But hearing he was slipping away made my chest ache with a sudden, sharp grief.

The main hall of the Parker house was a disaster zone when I arrived. Natalie took me straight to the master suite.

Andrew Parker lay against the pillows, his breathing a shallow whistle, his eyes clouded. When he caught my scent, he reached out a trembling hand.

"Dad, why aren't you in the pack infirmary?" I asked, gripping his cold fingers as tears blurred my vision.

"Don't be dense, Collins! Where would we find the credits for a private ward?" Denise Harper snapped from the corner, her voice like ice.

I whipped my head around. "Didn't the Carters pay a fortune for the marriage contract? Why wasn't that used for his care?"

Denise scoffed. "That money went to the creditors before the ink was dry! Do you have any idea how much debt your father racked up trying to keep the franchise afloat? Don't look at me like I stole your inheritance, boy. Besides, his wolf is broken. He's better off crossing the veil!"

She turned on her heel and stormed out, leaving a trail of bitter jasmine scent behind.

I stayed. Despite everything, he was my father. He’d been the one to teach me to skate, and the thought of him being gone forever was a hole in the world.

"Don't listen to her, Dad," I whispered, sniffling as I leaned over the bed. "I really thought you’d pull through..."

Andrew didn't seem to hear me. He looked at me with eyes swimming in tears, his voice a low, broken rasp. "Collins... my son. I failed you... I failed Natalie. I’ll hunt better for both of you in the next life..."

The hand holding mine suddenly went limp.

A howl of pure agony tore through the house. My heart felt like it had been shredded. In the span of a few days, my world had been upended: I was bound to a man who hated me, carrying two cubs I couldn't claim, and now, my father was gone. I felt like a pup pushed into a corner by a blizzard, with no way home.

The funeral was a gray, rain-slicked affair.

Very few wolves attended; the fall of the Parkers had turned us into pariahs. After the service, Denise headed to a nearby lounge with the few remaining "friends." The crowd thinned out like a flock of birds before a storm.

Eventually, it was just me and my mother standing by the fresh earth.

"Do you hate him, Mom?" I asked, staring at the headstone.

Natalie looked down, her voice hollow. "I do. Even now, I can't forgive the betrayal."

I didn't understand. "Then why are you crying?"

"Because the love doesn't just vanish when the hate arrives," she sighed. "It's a love-hate bond, Collins. Shifter hearts are rarely simple."

That night, I dragged my exhausted body back to the Carter fortress. I’d been gone for three days dealing with the arrangements, and not a single soul from the Silvercrest pack had called to check on me. My standing with Ethan was colder than a mid-winter frost.

As I walked into the courtyard, the mansion was ablaze with light. The sound of laughter and clinking crystal drifted from the living room. It was a party.

"Collins!" Patricia Bennett spotted me and rushed over.

She saw my black coat and the hollow look in my eyes, and her smile faltered. "It's pouring. Get inside." She pulled me into the foyer.

I was a ghost in black, my frame looking even thinner in my trench coat. My boots were caked with cemetery mud. I felt entirely out of place in the warmth of the room.

Patricia brought me my house slippers. As I changed, I glanced at the lounge. Ethan’s inner circle was evaluating me like a strange specimen in a cage—disrespectful, bold stares.

I looked directly at Ethan, who sat at the center of the leather sofa. He was wreathed in expensive tobacco smoke, his hard features looking like a dream behind the gray veil.

The reason I stared, though, was the woman draped beside him.

She had long, dark hair and was poured into a white dress that left nothing to the imagination. She was leaning into Ethan’s space, her own cigarette between her fingers. It was clear she was more than just an employee.

She stood up and walked toward me with a provocative smirk. "You must be Collins Parker," she said. "The 'consort' Margaret picked out. She has... interesting taste. You're quite the pretty thing, though a bit small. I'm not talking about your rank, but your... build."

I narrowed my eyes. "You're gorgeous, and clearly you've got the curves the Captain likes. So, when is the wedding?"

The nonchalant bite in my voice sent her into a rage.

"How dare you? Do you know how many seasons I’ve spent at Ethan’s side? I'm Chelsea Tierney. Even if you have the title, if I slapped you right now, he wouldn't even blink!"

She raised her hand.

CRASH.

The sound of shattering glass stopped the music. I had grabbed a thirty-thousand-dollar bottle of vintage wine from the side table and smashed it against the marble. Red liquid sprayed across her white dress and soaked into the expensive carpet.

My eyes were bloodshot, and my knuckles were white as I gripped the jagged neck of the bottle, pointing it at her throat.

"You want to hit me? Try it!" I snarled, my voice vibrating with a grief-fueled rage. "Touch me, and I’ll finish you!"

The room went silent. The "introverted Parker boy" they’d heard about was gone. Standing there was a wolf with nothing left to lose.

Ethan’s amber eyes narrowed as he exhaled a cloud of smoke. He didn't move, his gaze fixed on my trembling, lethal face.

I didn't wait for a reaction. I turned and stormed to my room, slamming the door with a force that rattled the chandeliers.

The guests looked at Ethan, expecting a slaughter. Usually, any noise over a whisper made him snap. That door slam was a sonic boom. But he sat there, calm and composed.

"Damn," someone whispered. "I heard the kid's father died this week. He's coming straight from the burial."

Chelsea, the PR lead for Silvercrest Holdings, was vibrating with humiliation. It was her birthday, and she’d intended to mark her territory. She returned to Ethan’s side, her voice trembling. "I'm sorry, Ethan. I didn't know about his father."

Ethan crushed his cigarette out. He picked up his glass and drained it in one go.

"Happy birthday, Chelsea," he said, his voice deep and smooth.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"One more thing," Ethan added, adjusting his cuffs. His voice carried a razor-edged warning. "Collins Parker isn't a target. Even if he’s just a stray I’m keeping in the kennel, I’m the only one who gets to push him around."

Chelsea paled. "But the divorce... he’ll be nothing to the pack then!"

Ethan’s gaze turned to ice. Even if he's something I no longer want, I won't watch a vulture pick at him.

I sobbed into my pillow until I fell into a heavy sleep. When I woke, my eyes were swollen shut.

I was starving—the kind of hunger that felt like a physical ache in my gut. I threw on a robe and headed for the kitchen, stopping when I saw Ethan’s back in the dining room.

"Breakfast is ready, Collins!" Patricia called out.

I sat as far from him as possible. I was about to reach for a piece of toast when he spoke.

"That bottle of wine was worth thirty thousand credits."

My hand froze. Thirty thousand? For fermented grapes? "Are you sending me a bill?" I muttered.

Ethan glanced at my pale, haggard face. "It's a warning. You break another piece of my property, you’ll pay for it down to the last cent."

My stomach cramp vanished, and I started to eat. I noticed the bacon on my plate and felt a sudden, violent surge of nausea. I pushed the meat to the side, my face turning green.

"Is the food not to your liking?" Patricia asked.

"I'm... I'm sticking to greens lately," I lied.

After breakfast, I prepared to meet my father’s lawyer, Attorney Lucas Grant. As I headed out, Ethan was also departing for the Silvercrest offices.

The morning air was biting. As I walked down the long driveway, the cold wind hit me, and the nausea returned with a vengeance. I doubled over by a stone planter, puking my guts out.

A silver luxury sedan pulled up beside me. The window rolled down, and Ethan’s cold, amber eyes locked onto mine.

I felt my face heat up. Did he know? Could a High Alpha scent a pregnancy this early?

I wiped my mouth and stood tall, glaring at the window. "I think I just ate too much breakfast," I snapped.