He chuckled lightly, eyes glinting with curiosity and something else I couldn't place. “You’re a straightforward woman. I admire that. So tell me—why didn’t you put up a fight and just came with me?”

I stared at him, taking my time as my eyes roamed over his seated frame. I didn’t respond. I should tread carefully and know what am entering before saying something that isn't needed to be said.

He stood up and stepped closer, his presence commanding, overwhelming even. He reached out and tilted my chin with two fingers, forcing me to meet his gaze. I hated the way my skin reacted, hated the tingling sensation that danced along my jawline. There was a pull—a bond I didn’t want—but I played along.

“I don’t want a mate,” he said coldly. “I don’t want love or anything messy. All I need is an heir. Give me that, and I’ll let you go. In return… what do you want?”

I hesitated. I needed to tread carefully. “Can you tell me why you don’t want a mate?”

A faint smile touched his lips. “Because I don’t believe in fate… or mates, or any of that nonsense.” Something flickered in his eyes—grief, maybe sorrow—but it vanished as quickly as it came.

There was something broken in him. Something like me.

“I want revenge,” I said bluntly.

His hand dropped from my chin as he turned away, walking back to his seat with a casual air. “I’ll give you the revenge you want,” he said without pause. “But I want no part in your past. Whatever happened to you doesn’t concern me. The revenge... I can assist with, if we strike a deal.”

I crossed my arms. “And how do I trust that deal?”

He chuckled, pulling open a drawer and taking out a clean sheet of parchment. “We’ll sign a contract and make a vow. We both know how sacred vows are.”

Even though my heart thundered in my chest, I pushed forward, knowing I had to ask the one question that could unravel everything. “Even if the person I want revenge on is… your true mate?”

That made him pause. He stared at me, the silence sharp and heavy, before speaking slowly. “It doesn’t matter to me,” he said. “All that matters is the heir.”

No hesitation. No guilt. Just cold practicality.

The room was silent and the only sound was the scratch of his pen moving across the paper. He wrote swiftly, confidently, like someone used to making deals with no emotion involved. When he was done, he handed it to me along with a pen.

I read it carefully. Everything was spelled out in brutal clarity. He would support me in taking down those who wronged me—no questions asked, no interference. In exchange, I would give him a child. An heir. Then I would walk away, never to return.

Simple. Cruel. Tempting.

But one question burned in my mind. Could I really walk away from my own child? A child created with purpose but no love? A child that would be his legacy… not mine?

“what if the baby is a girl?” I asked quietly.

He looked up and smirked. “That’s why the contract says an heir. We’ll keep trying until we get one.”

I wanted to slap the smugness off his face. But I held it in. I was here for revenge, not emotion.

Still, I placed the pen on the paper and signed my name. A single signature, but it marked the beginning of a war I was willing to fight.

As I finished, he spoke again, casually, like we were discussing dinner. “Which is why we should wed quickly and It shall be done five days a week.”

I blinked, confused. “What shall?”

“Sex,” he said flatly, not even flinching.

My face flushed hot. Of course—how else were we going to produce an heir?

“Five days?” I echoed, appalled.

“Why don't you just say all week?" I muttered bitterly.

He tilted his head, his tone dry. “Well, that’s fine by me. I don’t mind.”

I gritted my teeth. “Three days.”

He raised a brow. “Four.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Three.”

Were we really negotiating the number of times we’d have sex like it was a business transaction? Apparently, we were.

He shrugged. “Fine.”

He stood then, his posture shifting as if something weighty had settled between us. He lifted his hand solemnly. “It’s time we take our vow.”

His voice was steady, sure. “I, Alpha Dean Lucas, vow to help you get the revenge you seek, if you give me an heir.”

I closed my eyes, forcing back everything I felt, and whispered, “I, Becca Wilson, vow to give you an heir, provided you fulfill your oath to get me my revenge.”

He nodded once, firm. “It is done.”

And just like that, my fate was sealed—with the man who was never supposed to be mine.

The moment our vows were exchanged, Dean gave a satisfied nod and immediately reached for his phone. “Come to my office,” he said curtly into the receiver. Within moments, a woman entered—a poised, slightly older lady with steel in her posture and lines of experience on her face. She couldn’t have been younger than her forties. She bowed slightly, eyes trained on her Alpha, waiting for instruction.

“You’ll escort her to the former Luna’s chamber,” Dean ordered without looking at me. “I assume you’ve already heard the news.”

The woman nodded. “I have, Dean. Though I must say… I was quite surprised.”

Surprised? By what, exactly?

She flicked a glance in my direction—quick, but sharp—and then returned her gaze to Dean. “Given that you rejected Tessa, I didn’t expect this.”

Tessa? I turned to Dean instinctively, surprise etching itself across my face. He tapped his fingers against his desk rhythmically, a clear sign that the conversation was closed. He didn’t want to talk about it. Oh so Bianca was a second chanced mate, how ironic.

The woman shifted her eyes to me, offering a stiff smile. “Please, this way… Luna. And by the way, my name is Taya.”

Something in her voice told me she didn’t mean the title sincerely.

Still, I returned her introduction with polite warmth. “Becca Wilson. It’s nice to meet you.”

She gave a half-hearted nod and turned, walking ahead of me. I followed, but not before casting one last glance at Dean. He wasn’t as unreadable as he thought—because I caught him staring. The moment our eyes met, he quickly looked away, pretending to focus on his desk.

So… he’d rejected someone. Someone named Tessa. The so-called fated mate, maybe? I made a mental note to ask Taya. Something told me the story behind it was more than a passing detail.

We arrived at a grand, dimly lit chamber. Taya was already turning to leave without a word, her posture rigid, disapproval practically radiating from her.

“How charming,” I muttered under my breath, then spoke louder. “I’d like to ask you something.”

She paused with a quiet sigh, glancing at me over her shoulder with tired, uninterested eyes. But I was used to colder stares than hers. Nothing rattled me anymore. I’d survived betrayal, humiliation, heartbreak—this was just another day.

“Yes?” she said, voice clipped.

“What did you mean earlier? About rejection? Who exactly did he reject?”

Taya’s expression shifted, her lips tightening with restraint. Her eyes narrowed just enough to show contempt. “He rejected the one woman the Moon Goddess chose for him. The one he was destined for.”

Her voice was coated with judgment, like I had stolen something sacred.

I raised an eyebrow. “Was there a reason?”

She bowed abruptly, cutting me off. “I’m afraid I have duties to attend to.” but even as she says that she didn't move but kept staring at me.

I smirked, unimpressed. “You’re still standing there?” I say to her without looking at her.

That made her bristle. But she didn’t argue. She simply turned on her heel and finally left, the door shutting behind her.

So, the staff already had opinions about me. That didn’t bother me. I wasn’t the naive, soft-spoken girl I used to be. The Becca of yesterday had died the day her mate betrayed her. The woman who stood in her place now had steel in her spine and fire in her veins.

From now on, I’d treat people exactly as they treated me.

Sighing, I sank into the plush sofa in the center of the room. The silence was calming. My thoughts wandered—what would my wedding night look like? Would Dean come to claim his part of the bargain so soon?

Not that it would be my first time. My thoughts drifted back to Mark. He had been gentle with me once. Sweet. I remembered how he’d kissed my temple and whispered he’d love me forever. Then the image twisted—him on top of her. My sister. His moans, her cries. The way he looked at her like she was the only thing that ever mattered.

I clenched my fists. So much for forever.

Exhausted, I leaned back. I needed sleep.

I woke to the heavy scent of smoke— and his scent—and then I opened my eyes to find Dean lounging in the armchair across from me, a cigar in hand. My eyes widened when I realized he was completely naked, legs parted like he owned every inch of the room.

“What the hell—!” I bolted upright.

Dean exhaled a lazy puff of smoke. “Good. You’re awake. Don’t tell me you forgot—you’ve got nightly duties to perform.”

My jaw dropped. “Would it kill you to wear some damn underwear?”

He chuckled, smirking. “You better get used to this, Becca. This is your new normal.”

I turned my face away, refusing to let my eyes wander again over his sexy body. But it was already too late—my traitorous body was aware of every sculpted inch of him.

“At least let me take a bath,” I muttered, rising to my feet.

He stood too, blocking my path. His… manhood dangling in the air, he was big. I gasped, taking a shaky step back as he moved closer to me.

“That won’t be necessary. You’re better this way,” he said, tossing the cigar aside. His voice lowered as he stepped closer. “Am sure you know what to do.”

I started to strip but then I hesitated "Wait… don’t tell me—is this your first…?" he asked, pausing mid-sentence.

I shook my head. “No. It’s not my first time, but… I have a scar. A big one. Across my chest.”

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “I see. That’s where the core usually resides.” His voice lost any trace of softness as he continued, “Just undress. I don’t care about the scar.”

When I glanced down again, the proof of his interest was clear—he was no longer just dangling. He was hard… and getting harder. I knew that wouldn’t last once he saw what was left of me.

I took a breath and stripped anyway—first my pants, then my blouse. My chest was bare, revealing the thick, jagged scar that carved across my heart. He stared, unreadable.

“Get on the bed,” he said at last.

---

The Next Morning

Dean sat in his office, knuckles white from clenching his fists. “Sybil,” he said darkly, “find out everything about my mate. And who did that to her.”

Without a word, Sybil bowed and vanished into the shadows.

Dean remained at his desk, his grey eyes burning with fury. Whoever left those scars on her... will wish they’d never been born.

Third person's POV

“Argh,” Becca winced, clutching her stomach with both hands as a wave of soreness rippled through her. Her entire body ached in places she hadn’t felt in a long time. The man was a beast in bed. That much was certain. There had been no gentleness in him, no restraint—just raw, primal passion that left her feeling like she had been consumed whole. Even now, with the morning sun leaking through the curtains and his presence long gone, she could still feel the echo of him deep inside her.

Slowly, she pushed herself out of the enormous bed, taking a shaky breath. Her thoughts were clear now. She had only one goal: to get pregnant, give him an heir, and be done with it. That was the deal. That was the plan. And once it was fulfilled, she’d finally be free to enact the true purpose behind her agreement—revenge.

But first, she needed a bath.

She brought her hand to her nose and inhaled. His scent was all over her—clinging to her skin like a second layer, embedding itself in her pores, as if marking her without a mark. The memories of the previous night rushed back, vivid and unrelenting. The way he had laid her down without hesitation, ignoring the deep scars across her chest. He hadn’t kissed her—not once—but he had suckled on her breasts, drawing shivers from her that she hadn’t expected.

His touch had been experienced, almost maddeningly so. Every movement, every graze of his fingers, had felt calculated, as if he had studied her body in advance and was now claiming every inch of it with expert precision. In those moments, she had almost forgotten everything—her pain, her betrayal, her thirst for vengeance. And that, she realized, was dangerous.

Her eyes flicked toward the bathroom, but then to the wardrobe. She hadn’t brought any clothes with her when she arrived. Just a scarf and her glasses. Nothing more. Moving toward the large wardrobe, she opened the doors and scanned the contents, quickly locating one of Dean’s shirts. It looked massive against her frame—he made her seem small, even though she wasn’t petite by any means. The man was simply built like a giant, just like his... Her hand flew to her mouth, and she whispered to herself, “What am I even thinking right now? I must be losing it.”

She hurried to the bathroom with the oversized shirt in hand, trying to shake the heat that had returned to her cheeks.

The bathroom floor was dry, which told her he had left early, maybe even before dawn. Typical. But she was used to it—Mark had done the same in their marriage, disappearing like smoke the moment dawn broke. Still, Dean was nothing like Mark in bed. He had already outperformed him in every way, not that it mattered. It was just… an observation.

She grabbed the soap and whatever else she could find to scrub her skin. She needed to wash him off. She needed to reclaim her body. But no matter how hard she scrubbed, the scent remained—subtle but persistent. It was as if he had stamped himself into her soul.

Then she heard it. A voice she hadn’t heard in a very long time. One that made her heart leap.

“He really was a beast last night, wasn’t he?”

Her eyes widened. She clutched her mouth as tears filled her eyes. “Malia… you’re back!” Her voice trembled as emotion surged through her chest. “I missed you so much.”

“I know,” the voice said softly. “I missed you too, Becca. It took me some time to adjust to your sister’s core after ours was taken, but I’m here now. And I promise—we will get that revenge.”

Becca’s lips quivered, but she nodded quickly. “Yes. But for now, we’re in a contract with Dean. Our priority must be to give him an heir, as quickly as possible. That’s the fastest route to power. Once that’s done, we use everything he gives us to destroy those who ruined us.”

Malia agreed without hesitation. “Yes. The faster we deliver his heir, the closer we get to what we really want.”

Becca stepped out of the bath feeling renewed. Not just because her body was clean, but because she could finally speak to her wolf again—the only one who had truly understood her, who had been with her since the beginning. Oh, how she had missed her.

Yet, despite everything, Dean’s scent still lingered on her like a stubborn ghost. She glanced at her neck, half-expecting to see a mating mark. There was none. He hadn’t marked her. But something else caught her attention—the old mark, the one left by Mark, had vanished entirely. She touched the spot slowly, realization dawning. That meant she was no longer bound to him. He had marked someone else. Bianca.

A cold calm settled in her chest. “Good,” she whispered. “Let it be gone. Let there be nothing left tying us together.”

She slipped into Dean’s oversized shirt, tossed her worn clothes into the washer, and even borrowed a pair of his boxers. They were far too big, but she didn’t care. “Let’s find something to eat,” she said aloud, speaking to Malia.

“Yes, please. I could eat an entire cow,” Malia replied, and they both shared a laugh. It felt strange—laughter. It had been so long.

Becca left the room and wandered through the halls, her bare feet silent against the floors. She hadn’t seen a single soul until she pushed open a grand set of double doors. The moment she entered, a hush fell over the room. Heads turned. All conversation ceased. It felt like a silent contest of stares until Becca broke it.

“I’d like something to eat,” she announced calmly.

Suddenly, the entire place moved into action, as if she had given a royal command. A woman hurried over to her with a wide smile.

“Come this way, Luna. We’ve prepared a delicious feast just for you.”

Becca followed, slightly stunned, to a long dining table where a spread of food awaited her. Her eyes widened at the sight—there was enough to feed ten people. She glanced around the room and was met with nothing but warm smiles and eager faces. The butlers positioned themselves attentively behind her.

“I’m Katarina,” the woman who approached said. “I’ll be your personal maid. We weren’t sure how to approach you this morning… given, well…” She trailed off, her cheeks turning pink.

Becca flushed too, recalling last night. “Yes… thank you,” she mumbled, noticing a few girls stifling giggles nearby.

Just then, her stomach growled loudly.

“You should eat now,” Katarina said with urgency.

Food of all kinds was placed in front of her, and Malia practically leapt for joy within her. It was a meal fit for royalty. Becca hadn’t expected this kind of treatment, especially after the cold welcome from Taya. Speaking of which… she hadn’t seen that woman all morning.

—

Elsewhere, in a quiet, dimly lit room…

A shriek pierced the silence, followed by the crashing sound of books hitting the floor. A woman stood in the center of the room, disheveled and trembling. Her hair was tangled, her eyes red and puffy from hours of crying. She was a shadow of her former self.

“Calm down,” Taya urged gently, but her words were met with rage.

“Calm down?” the girl spat, her voice raw with heartbreak. “You want me to calm down? After everything?”

She paced like a storm in motion, fury radiating from every limb. “He was supposed to be mine! The Moon Goddess paired us. I was destined to give him love, an heir, everything he ever wanted. But no—he rejected me! Said the bond was too strong. That he didn’t want to become like his father.” Her hands trembled violently. “Now look what he’s done—he brought in another woman and mated her. Meanwhile, I was forced to settle for someone else… someone who didn’t even live long enough to matter!”

She dropped to her knees, sobbing. “He was supposed to mark me. He was supposed to choose me. But he didn’t. He never did.”

Taya crouched beside her, voice low and coaxing. “Tessa… my daughter. Please, calm yourself. You will have him. Mommy promises.”

A glint of something dark flashed in Taya’s eyes. A smirk formed on her lips. It was the beginning of something wicked.