Anya POV

"Nothing," I whispered, my voice trembling under the weight of his accusation. "I wanted nothing from you."

Declan stared at me, his chest heaving slightly. For a second, the ice in his eyes seemed to crack, revealing a swirling vortex of molten gold—his wolf, fighting for control. His scent, that overwhelming mix of storm and pine, flared so violently it felt like a physical caress against my skin, wrapping around me, begging me to stay even as his human face twisted in disgust.

He released my chin abruptly, as if my skin had burned him.

"Get up," he growled, stepping back.

I hadn't realized I was cowering against the door until I scrambled to stand, my legs shaking like a newborn fawn's.

The elevator dinged outside, and a moment later, a breathless Dannie Hill stumbled into the open doorway of the suite. He looked like a man walking to the gallows. His eyes darted between the disheveled Alpha and me, his face draining of all color.

"Alpha Blackwood," Dannie choked out, bowing his head in submission. "I... I am here as you commanded."

Declan didn't look at him. He kept his gaze fixed on the city skyline outside the window, his back a wall of rigid muscle. "Take her," Declan said, his voice devoid of emotion. "Get her out of my sight."

Dannie let out a breath of relief and reached for my arm, his grip bruising. "Yes, Alpha. Immediately. I apologize for the disturbance—"

"And Hill?"

Declan turned. The air in the room instantly grew heavy, crushing the breath out of my lungs. This was the Alpha's Command—a power that forced every wolf to their knees. Even as a wolfless, I felt the static pressure of it prickling my skin.

Dannie froze, whimpering softly.

"Never again," Declan said, his voice low and lethal, "offer up a member of my Pack like a piece of meat to solve your problems. If I hear of you pimping out your subordinates again, you will not have a position to lose. You won't even have a Pack."

Dannie nodded frantically, sweat dripping from his brow. "Understood, Alpha. Never again."

"Go."

The single word was a dismissal and a threat. Dannie yanked me into the hallway. As the heavy mahogany doors slammed shut behind us, severing the connection to that intoxicating scent, I felt a bizarre, hollow ache in my chest. My soul felt... empty.

But Dannie didn't give me time to mourn the loss of something I never had.

The moment we were alone in the silent, carpeted corridor, his fear mutated instantly into rage. He spun on me, his face purple with fury.

"You useless, wolfless bitch!" he hissed, shoving me backward. I stumbled, catching myself against the wall. "Do you have any idea what you've done? You almost got me killed!"

"I didn't do anything!" I cried, tears finally spilling over. "You sent me there! You told me to fix it!"

"I told you to apologize, not to act like a whore and insult the Alpha!" Dannie spat. He jabbed a finger in my face. "You're done, Carroll. You hear me? You are fired. Effective immediately."

The world tilted on its axis. "Mr. Hill, please... my mother's medical bills... I need this job."

"Not my problem," he sneered, straightening his jacket. "Pack your things. If you're not off the premises in an hour, I'll have security throw you out. And don't bother applying anywhere else in this Pack. I'll make sure everyone knows you're poison."

He stormed off toward the elevators, leaving me alone in the dim hallway. The silence that followed was deafening. I was ruined.

Thirty minutes later, I was shoving my clothes into my battered suitcase in my small room on the lower floors. My hands were shaking so hard I could barely zip the bag.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand. It was Camryn.

I stared at the screen for a long moment before answering. "Hello?"

"Anya! Oh, Goddess, are you okay?" Camryn's voice was thick with tears. "I saw Dannie storming through the lobby. He looked murderous. What happened?"

"I'm fired, Cam," I said, my voice dull. "He fired me."

"No..." Camryn gasped. "Anya, I am so, so sorry. This is all my fault. I never should have opened my big mouth."

"It doesn't matter now." I sat on the edge of the bed, clutching the phone. "Declan... Alpha Blackwood... he hates me. He thinks I planned it all."

"He's an idiot if he thinks that," Camryn said fiercely, though her voice dropped to a whisper. "But... Anya, maybe it's for the best. You don't want to be mixed up with him."

"Why?" I asked, wiping a tear from my cheek.

"I heard the older staff talking in the breakroom," Camryn whispered, as if sharing a state secret. "They say the Alpha has been celibate for years. Rumor is, he found his Fated Mate a long time ago, but they can't be together yet. Maybe she's too young, or from a rival pack. He's waiting for her."

My heart stopped.

Waiting for her.

A memory flashed in my mind, vivid and sharp. Last night, in the heat of the moment, my fingers had traced the hard line of Declan's collarbone. There, inked into his skin in stark black numerals, was a date.

0825.

August 25th.

It wasn't a birthday. It was an anniversary. A mark of devotion to the woman he actually loved.

Nausea rolled through me. I wasn't just a mistake to him; I was a betrayal of his true mate. That explained the coldness, the anger, the disgust in his eyes this morning. He had broken his vow of celibacy with a wolfless nobody, and he hated himself for it. And by extension, he hated me.

"Anya? Are you still there?"

"I'm here," I whispered, gripping the phone until my knuckles turned white. "I have to go, Cam. I have to leave."

I hung up before she could argue. The shame was a physical weight, crushing me. I grabbed my suitcase and fled the room, desperate to put as much distance as possible between me and the man who had marked my soul, all while his heart belonged to a ghost.

Anya POV

The Motel 6 on the outskirts of the city smelled of stale cigarette smoke and lemon-scented despair. It was a far cry from the plush, velvet-lined world of the Alpha's floor, but it was all I could afford.

I sat on the edge of the lumpy mattress, my knees pulled to my chest. The silence here wasn't peaceful; it was heavy, pressing against my eardrums. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the ink on Declan's skin.

0825.

August 25th.

It had to be her birthday. Or their anniversary. Kristin Larsen, the Alpha's daughter Camryn had whispered about. A woman with a wolf as strong as his, a woman worthy of a King. Not a wolfless nobody who fetched coffee and got fired for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

A sudden, blinding pain spiked through my temples, like an ice pick driven into my skull. I gasped, dropping my head into my hands. It wasn't a normal headache. It felt like static pressure, a heavy, demanding knocking against the walls of my mind.

Open up.

The command wasn't audible—I had no wolf to translate the telepathy of the Pack link—but the intent was so powerful it physically hurt. Someone was trying to force a Mind-Link.

Declan.

Only an Alpha could generate that kind of mental force.

The pain vanished as quickly as it came, replaced by the vibration of my phone on the nightstand. The screen lit up, illuminating the dark room.

Unknown Number: We are not finished.

My breath hitched. The text was stark, commanding. No greeting, no signature. Just a declaration.

Fear, cold and sharp, coiled in my stomach. He wasn't chasing me because he cared. He was chasing me because I was a loose end. I was the mistake that could tarnish his reputation, the stain on his fidelity to his true mate. He probably wanted to pay me off, or worse, threaten me into silence.

My fingers trembled as I typed a reply, desperate to end this before he could hurt me more than he already had.

Me: Last night never happened. Don't worry.

I didn't wait for a response. I hit the 'Block Contact' button.

"It's over," I whispered to the empty room, though the hollow ache in my chest suggested otherwise. "You're safe."

The phone buzzed again, making me jump. I stared at it in horror, thinking he had somehow bypassed the block, but the name flashing on the screen was Dannie Hill.

I swallowed hard and answered. "Mr. Hill?"

"That's Sir to you, Carroll," Dannie's voice slurred slightly, thick with spite. "I'm calling to make sure you understand the terms of your termination. You are to vacate the premises immediately. Your access card has been deactivated."

"I'm already gone, Sir," I said, my voice dull. "I'm at a motel."

"Good. But you're not done yet," he snapped. "I need the Shadow Creek Territory Acquisition Files. Elara needs them for the morning briefing. If those papers aren't on the front desk in twenty minutes, I will make sure you are blacklisted from every job in this state. You won't even be able to get hired as a dishwasher."

The line went dead.

Panic flared. The Shadow Creek file. It was the most sensitive merger the Pack was handling. If I lost that, Dannie wouldn't just blacklist me; he could have me arrested for corporate espionage.

"Okay, okay," I muttered, scrambling off the bed. I dragged my battered suitcase onto the mattress and unzipped it. "It's here. It has to be here."

I threw clothes aside—my spare uniform, my worn-out jeans, my only nice dress. I dug through the side pockets, checked my purse, shook out my coat.

Nothing.

"No, no, no..."

I upended the bag, dumping everything onto the floor. My toiletries scattered. My socks rolled under the bed. But the thick blue folder was nowhere to be seen.

I froze, my hands hovering over the mess. A memory, sharp and cruel, played in my mind.

The morning sun hitting the floor-to-ceiling windows. Me, scrambling to gather my clothes while Declan watched me with those unreadable, golden eyes. The folder sliding off the nightstand as I grabbed my bra.

I had left it.

I had left the most important document of my career in Room 1501.

The blood drained from my face. I looked at my phone, at the blocked number, at the bridge I had just incinerated with a few keystrokes.

I had to go back.

I had to walk right back into the lion's den, past the security, and knock on the door of the man I had just rejected.

Fate, it seemed, had a twisted sense of humor. And I was the punchline.

Anya POV

The elevator ride to the Alpha's floor felt like an ascent to the gallows. When the steel doors slid open, the silence of the corridor hit me harder than a physical blow. The air up here was different—thinner, colder, and saturated with a power that made the fine hairs on my arms stand up.

I clutched my purse to my chest, my knuckles white, and forced my legs to move. The thick, dark carpet swallowed the sound of my footsteps, making me feel like a ghost haunting a place I had no right to be.

Standing guard outside the double mahogany doors of Room 1501 was a man I recognized only from company newsletters. Heath Jacobson, the Alpha's Beta. He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed over a chest that looked like it was carved from granite.

He straightened as I approached, his expression shifting from boredom to a guarded alertness.

"Ms. Carroll," he said, his voice low and devoid of warmth. He didn't ask how I got up here; he just stepped in front of the door, a human barricade. "You shouldn't be here."

"I know," I breathed, my voice trembling despite my best efforts. "Please, Mr. Jacobson. I left something inside. The Shadow Creek files. It's... it's a matter of life and death for my career."

Heath looked down at me, his eyes narrowing slightly. There was no pity in his gaze, only the calculation of a man whose sole job was to protect his leader. "The Alpha is not to be disturbed. Especially not by you. Not tonight."

"I just need the folder," I pleaded, desperation clawing at my throat. "I don't even need to see him. If you could just—"

Suddenly, Heath went rigid. His eyes glazed over, staring at something I couldn't see. The air around him seemed to vibrate. He was Mind-Linking.

A chill ran down my spine. Declan.

A moment later, Heath blinked, the connection severed. He looked at me with a new, unsettling expression—something between confusion and wary respect. He stepped aside, gesturing to the door.

"The Alpha will see you now."

My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird. I reached for the handle, my hand shaking, and pushed the door open.

The scent hit me instantly.

It was a storm trapped in a bottle—ozone, wet pine, and deep, dark earth. It was heavy, cloying, and terrifyingly masculine. It wrapped around me, pulling me in, making my knees weak.

Declan was standing by the floor-to-ceiling window, his back to me. He had discarded his suit jacket, and his white dress shirt was unbuttoned at the cuffs, sleeves rolled up to reveal powerful forearms.

"I... I didn't mean to intrude," I stammered, staying close to the door, ready to bolt. "I just need the blue folder I left. Then I'll disappear."

Declan turned slowly. His golden eyes locked onto mine, and I felt the weight of his gaze press down on me, pinning me to the spot. He didn't look angry. He looked... hungry. Like a predator toying with a wounded rabbit.

He took a step toward me, the movement fluid and predatory.

"A folder?" His voice was a low rumble that vibrated in my chest. "From which night are you referring to? The one where a wolfless girl thought she could summon her Alpha to her bed and then scurry away like a frightened mouse?"

The shame burned my cheeks, hot and stinging. He was twisting the knife, using my own actions to flay me open.

"I was drunk," I whispered, unable to meet his intense stare. "I... I sent that text by mistake. I don't remember anything that happened after. I'm sorry."

"You don't remember," he repeated, his tone unreadable. He stopped just a few feet away from me. The proximity was suffocating. "How convenient."

"Please, Sir. Just give me the file."

He ignored my request entirely. He walked past me to the wet bar, the casual dismissal stinging more than his words. He poured a glass of water, the sound of liquid hitting crystal echoing in the silent room.

"My investigators tell me your mother, Marie, has been on the transplant waiting list for three years," he said, his back to me again. "Congestive heart failure. Stage four. She doesn't have much time left, does she?"

I froze. The blood drained from my face. "Leave my mother out of this."

"The state insurance won't cover the specialist she needs," he continued, turning around to face me, the glass of water untouched in his hand. "But I can. I can have the best cardiac surgeon in the country fly in tonight. I can cover the surgery, the recovery, the medication. Everything."

My breath hitched. Hope, cruel and sharp, pierced through my fear. "Why? Why would you do that?"

Declan set the glass down on the counter with a deliberate clink. He looked at me with a cold, terrifying resolve.

"Because I need something from you."

He walked toward me until he was looming over me, his scent overwhelming my senses. He leaned down, his golden eyes burning into my soul.

"Marry me."

I stared at him, my mouth falling open. The words made no sense. "What?"

"You heard me," he said, his voice devoid of emotion, like he was closing a business deal. "I need a wife. You need your mother to live. We can be at the courthouse tomorrow morning."

The room spun. This wasn't a proposal. It was a trap. A golden, deadly trap set by a King who held my mother's life in one hand and my freedom in the other.