Arlene POV

I stood in front of the carved wooden doors of the Branch family's VIP suite. My heart hammered against my ribs, but my hands were steady. Two massive wolves in their shifted forms blocked the door.

“Alpha Theodore Branch is in a closed-door meeting with Mr. Blake Wiggins,” the guard snarled. “No interruptions.”

I looked him dead in the eye and recited a specific subclause number – this is a highly classified emergency loophole in the Blanche family's inheritance laws—something I once overheard Adrian drunkenly boasting about.

The guard's jaw tightened. He shifted back, pressed two fingers to his earpiece, and whispered into his hidden microphone. Three seconds passed. A heavy mechanical click echoed from inside the wood. The door unlocked. The guards stepped aside.

I walked into the dimly lit room. The air was thick with the sharp scent of aged whiskey and expensive cigar smoke.

Blake Wiggins, Adrien's uncle by pack law, sat in a single leather armchair, his long legs crossed, casually flipping through a thick stack of territory merger documents. Theodore Branch sat opposite him, his face purple with rage – he already knew about his grandson's disgraceful exit.

Blake looked up. His deep, steelgrey eyes locked onto me through the dim lamplight. His gaze was an abyss, giving absolutely nothing away.

Theodore gripped his ceremonial cane. “Are you here to cancel the ceremony, Arlene? I am deeply sorry for what Adrien did.”

I straightened my spine and looked at the two most powerful men in the werewolf world. “The ceremony proceeds as planned,” I said clearly. “But the groom's name changes.”

Theodore gasped, his knuckles turning white around his cane. “Are you insane? Do you want to drag a random groomsman to the altar?”

I shifted my gaze directly to the silent man in the armchair. “I am mating Blake Wiggins.”

The room fell into a dead, suffocating silence. Theodore sucked in a sharp breath – the kind of silence that only lands when the unthinkable becomes real. Blake's fingers stopped turning the page. He slowly closed the folder and leaned forward. “Do you have any idea what you are saying right now?”

“Every word of it,” I said. “Adrien walked out on me at the altar. His uncle can walk me down it instead.”

The bluntness hung in the air like a detonation. Theodore made a strangled sound. Blake's expression didn't shift by a single degree.

I took a step closer. “The mutual benefit agreement we briefly discussed at the gala last year. You need a mate to pacify the Council and handle the pack's pressure regarding your succession. I need a fortress to survive the fallout of today. Your name is the only one strong enough to shield me, and I am the only woman desperate enough to sign away my freedom without asking questions. It's a winwin.”

A dark, imperceptible ripple crossed Blake's eyes. He stood up, his massive frame instantly swallowing the light in the room, radiating pure dominance. He walked until he was inches from my face, looking down, his voice a low rumble. “If you sign this blood contract, Arlene, there is no backing out. Ever.”

I didn't flinch. I tilted my chin up. “I have nothing left to lose. I am not afraid of the dark.”

Theodore suddenly stood up, his cane trembling. “Do it, Blake! This saves the family face. And it completely cuts that ungrateful bastard Adrien out of the succession! If you agree, I will have the elders alter the documents and the ceremonial screens immediately.”

Blake stared into my unwavering eyes. The silence stretched for ten agonising seconds. Finally, he gave a single, slow nod. He turned to his executive assistant standing by the wall. “Initiate Plan B. You have five minutes to replace all physical and magical materials.”

A sudden commotion erupted outside the door.

Kendall shoved past the guards, stumbling into the room. She saw me standing dangerously close to Blake.

“What are you doing?” she shrieked. “Are you trying to seduce your elder? You are disgusting!”

I didn't say a word. I closed the distance between us, raised my hand, and delivered a brutal backhand across her face.

Crack!

The sharp crack echoed off the walls. She crashed to the floor, clutching her stinging cheek, screaming in shock.

Blake didn't blink. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a silk handkerchief, and handed it to me.

“Don't dirty your hands,” he said softly.

Arlene POV

The corridor leading to the main hall was dark and narrow. Blake bent his arm, offering it to me. I slipped my hand through the crook of his elbow. My fingers brushed against the bespoke fabric of his suit. The sudden, intense heat of his body radiated through the material. The warmth hit me like a physical blow. My brain misfired. A violent wave of PTSD crashed over me.

Memories from the moment of death in my past life came flooding back.

I remembered the agonising cold. Kendall had framed me. The Wooten family had thrown me out without a dime. The temperature was twenty below zero.

I remembered dialling Adrien's number with frostbitten fingers. I remembered hearing Seraphina's sweet, giggling voice on the other end before the line went dead. I remembered Eleanor's voice on the voicemail: Die in the snow, Arlene. Just don't bleed on my carpets.

The phantom ice clawed at my lungs. My chest tightened. I couldn't breathe. My knees buckled, and I stumbled forward. Blake's arm shot out. His large hand clamped around my waist, gripping me tight, pulling me flush against his solid chest, stopping my fall.

“Are you afraid?” his voice rumbled right against my ear, deep and incredibly grounding.

I looked up at the sharp, perfect lines of his jaw. The memories shifted again. I remembered floating above my own dead body. I saw Blake – the ruthless tyrant of the werewolf world – standing in a sterile morgue, taking off his own wool coat and draping it over my frozen corpse.

I saw his private armed security storming the Wooten estate, taking my ashes by force. I saw him standing alone in a private cemetery in the Long Island territory, hosting a funeral for a woman he barely spoke to in life.

I remembered the suffocating weight of the dirt, the terrifying finality of death. I remembered the sheer, incomprehensible shock of waking up today, breathing, my heart beating in my chest.

Why was I back? How was I back? The Moon Goddess had given me a second chance – a miraculous reversal of fate that defied all logic. And in this new life, the only man I knew I could trust was the one who had shown me mercy when I was nothing but a memory.

He had stood in that freezing cemetery, a solitary figure of absolute power, giving me the dignity in death that my own blood had denied me.

In the present, my fingers dug into his arm. My knuckles turned stark white. I took a ragged breath and shoved the vulnerability deep into my stomach, shaking my head.

Blake looked down at me. His eyes dropped to the faint redness at the corners of my eyes. A violent, terrifying darkness flashed in his pupils. His assistant's voice crackled over the communication crystal. “Sir. The main hall screens are rebooted. The press is in position.”

Blake lifted his hand and gently adjusted the edge of my lace veil. The softness of his touch completely contradicted the lethal aura surrounding him.

“Once we push these doors open,” he said in a low gravel, “you are the Luna of Manhattan. No one will ever make you lower your head again.”

The ceremonial drums abruptly stopped. A second later, the grand, imposing chords of a royal mating march shook the walls. The heavy oak doors at the end of the hall were slowly pulled open by two ushers. Blinding white light from hundreds of camera flashes spilled into the dark corridor. I straightened my spine, lifted my chin, my eyes turning into chips of ice. I looked like a queen stepping onto a battlefield.

“Pleasure doing business with you, Uncle,” I whispered.

Blake heard the word. His jaw twitched. A dark, possessive smirk touched his lips. “According to the blood contracts being drafted right now,” he corrected me, “you will call me husband.”

The doors opened completely. A thousand eyes and camera lenses snapped directly onto us.