Faith's world returned with sharp and painful edges 

First, the rusted metal smell, and the sharp, metallic tang of fear. Then, a heavy vibration rattled through her skull. She tried to move her hands, but her wrists were tied.

She wasn't in the basement. She was in the back of a moving van.

Faith's heart jolted. Memory flooded back-the syringe, her aunt's cold smile, the sound of her laptop being crushed. She had been sold. Not just thrown out, but sold like a piece of livestock to a "labor contractor." In the werewolf world, that was a polite word for human trafficking.

"She's awake," a husky voice muttered from the front of the van.

"Doesn't matter," another voice grunted. "We're already in the North City. Once we drop her at the estate, she's their problem. Pretty thing like that? She'll be a 'Special Maid' by sunset."

Faith squeezed her eyes shut, forcing herself to breathe. Think, Faith. Think. She might be a "Dud," but she was brilliant. She didn't have claws, but she had a mind that could calculate trajectories and structural weaknesses. She looked around the dim interior of the van. It was an old model, the rear doors held shut by a manual latch that had been reinforced with a padlocked bar on the outside. But the side window-a small, rectangular pane meant for ventilation-was slightly opened.

She shifted her weight, ignoring the way her head throbbed. She managed to sit up, her back against the vibrating metal wall. Through the small gap in the window, she saw towering glass skyscrapers and neon lights that put her hometown to shame. This was the North-the territory of the Blackwood Pack.

The van slowed down, navigating a series of sharp turns. The air grew colder. Faith realized they were climbing a hill toward the more secluded, wealthy estates.

Almost there, the driver said. "The boss said the girl is smart, so keep the tranquilizer ready."

Now or never.

Faith stood up, her legs shaky. She didn't have the strength to break the door, but the van hit a massive speed bump, jolting the entire frame. For a split second, the latch rattled. Faith threw her entire body weight against the side door.

It didn't budge.

The van turned a sharp corner, the tires screeching. Faith saw her chance. They were passing a high stone wall overhung with thick ivy. The van slowed to enter a gated driveway.

Faith used her bound hands to grab the handle of the small ventilation window. She pulled with everything she had. The plastic snapped, creating an opening just wide enough for her slim frame.

"Hey! What's that noise?" the guard in the passenger seat yelled.

Faith didn't wait. She squeezed her shoulders through the cold wind whipping her hair.

"She's getting out! Stop the van!"

The driver slammed on the brakes. The momentum flung Faith forward, sending her tumbling out of the small window. She hit the pavement hard, the air leaving her lungs in a painful whoosh.

"Get her now!"

Faith scrambled to her feet, her vision swimming. She didn't look back. She ran toward the nearest structure-a massive, dark stone mansion that looked more like a fortress than a home. She sprinted through a gap in the hedge, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

She found herself on a wide, marble balcony overlooking a private driveway. Below her, a line of sleek, black luxury cars was pulling up.

Behind her, the traffickers burst through the hedge. "There she is! Grab the bitch!"

Faith looked down. It was a twenty-foot drop. To a normal human, it was a broken leg. To a werewolf, it was nothing. To a desperate girl with no wolf? It was a gamble.

She looked at the traffickers, then at the black car idling below.

"I'd rather die free," she whispered.

She jumped.

The wind roared in her ears for a heartbeat. Then, instead of the hard bite of asphalt, she hit something slightly softer but incredibly solid.

CRUNCH.

The roof of the lead Rolls-Royce crumpled under her weight. Glass shattered. The world went white with pain as her side hit the metal. Faith rolled off the car, sliding down the hood and landing in a heap on the pristine driveway.

Silence followed. A heavy, suffocating silence.

The traffickers froze at the edge of the balcony, their faces turning pale. They weren't looking at Faith. They were looking at the car.

The back door of the Rolls Royce opened slowly.

A man stepped out.

He was tall, easily six-foot-four-wearing a suit that probably cost more than Faith's entire neighborhood. His hair was black as a raven's wing, and his eyes were a piercing, icy grey that felt like a physical weight on her chest.

The air around him didn't just smell like a wolf; it smelled like power and expensive bourbon.

Faith looked up, her vision blurring at the edges. Her heart gave a strange, violent thud against her ribs. It wasn't just fear. It was a magnetic pull, soul-deep tug she had never felt in her life.

Mate.

The word echoed in the back of her mind, though she didn't have a wolf to say it.

The man looked at his dented car roof, then down at the girl bleeding on his driveway. His expression didn't change, but the temperature in the air seemed to drop ten degrees.

"Who," he said, his voice a low, dangerous growl that vibrated in Faith's very bones, "disturbed my morning?"

The traffickers on the balcony turned and bolted into the woods, terrified.

The man stepped closer, towering over Faith. He knelt down, his gloved hand tilting her chin up. His touch was cold, but where his skin met hers, a spark of electricity sizzled. He paused, his nostrils flaring as he caught her scent.

Faith tried to speak, but her body finally gave up. The pain and the drug still in her system won. Please.... she whispered, before her eyes rolled back.

Killian Nightshade watched the girl go limp in his arms. She was a "Dud", he could tell by the lack of an active wolf aura. She was small, battered, and had just ruined his favorite car.

But as he looked at her pale, beautiful face, his inner wolf-the one he had kept in a cage for years-let out a deafening, possessive roar.

"Mina." Mine.

Killian's eyes flashed a brilliant, predatory gold.

"Take her inside," he commanded his guards, his voice clipping like a blade. "Call the doctor, If she dies before I find out why she smells like my soul, everyone on duty today loses a limb.

The first thing Faith felt was the sheets. They weren't the scratchy, thin cotton of her basement cot. These were cool, heavy, and felt like liquid butter against her skin.

She opened her eyes slowly. The ceiling was vaulted, painted with intricate gold leaf that shimmered in the morning sun. For a moment, she thought she was dead. Is this heaven? Do Duds go to heaven?

Then, the ache in her side reminded her she was very much alive.

she felt a sudden sharp pain as she tried to sit up .Her wrists were bandaged, the zip-tie burns treated with a cooling salve that smelled of mint.

"I wouldn't move if I were you," a voice muttered from the shadows of the room. You broke two ribs and dented a half-million-dollar car with your head. Most humans would be in a coma by now.

Faith looked towards the window.

He was standing there, silhouetted against the light. Alpha Killian. He had traded his suit jacket for a black dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, revealing his forearms corded with muscle and etched with dark, swirling tattoos.

Faith's heart did that strange, violent skip again. The "Mate" pull was a dull roar in her blood, even if she had no wolf to acknowledge it.

"Where am I?" she whispered, her voice cracking.

"In my house," Killian said, stepping into the light. His grey eyes were like flint. Which makes  you my property until you explain why you were falling from the sky onto my Rolls-Royce.

Faith swallowed hard. She looked at the door-heavy oak, probably locked. Then back at the man who radiated enough power to crush her with a thought.

"I was....escaping," she said, choosing her words carefully. "Some men. They were taking me to a labor camp in the North."

Killian's eyes narrowed. He walked toward the bed, his movements fluid and predatory. He stopped just inches away, leaning down until his face was level with hers. Faith didn't flinch. She stared right back into those icy depths.

Most people-even Alphas-looked away when Killian stared. But this girl, this broken, wolfless thing, looked at him like he was just another problem to solve.

"You have no wolf, You're a Dud. Why would traffickers go through the trouble of drugging a Dud? You aren't worth the gas it took to drive the van."

The words stung, but Faith didn't let it show.

 "Maybe they liked my face. Or maybe they knew I was smarter than the people they usually kidnap."

Killian let out a short, dry bark of a laugh. "Arrogant, too. I like that."

He reached out, his thumb grazing the bandage on her wrist. The touch sent a bolt of heat through Faith's arm, making her breath hitch. Killian's eyes flashed gold for a split second. He felt it too. The pull. The impossibility of it.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"Faith."

Well, Faith. You've caused a lot of trouble. My car is in the shop, my guards are terrified because I almost executed them for letting a human onto the grounds, and you.... you smell like something I can't quite place."

He straightened up, his expression returning to a mask of cold indifference.

"Obviously, you have no money to pay for the repairs, and you're clearly running from someone, I've decided your fate. You'll work it off."

Faith gripped the silk sheets. "As a maid?"

"As my maid," Killian corrected. "You will be my Personal Shadow. You eat when I eat. You move when I move. You clean my private study-and only my study. No one else touches you, and you touch no one else".

but... why would you care if I touch anyone or if anyone touches me? Faith muttered. 

It's not about you Faith...Rule number one, "Do not question my authority.Understood?"

Faith's mind raced. It was a golden cage, but it was a cage with a library and a roof that didn't leak. If she could stay here, she could find a way to finish her scholarship application. She could disappear once she had her degree.

"Understood,"she said firmly.

A week passed.

Life in the Nightshade Mansion was a bizarre mix of luxury and labor. Faith was given a uniform-a simple, elegant black dress that fit her perfectly. She spent her mornings dusting Killian's massive library.

One afternoon, while Killian was on a frantic conference call regarding a failing tech merger, Faith was polishing the mahogany desk. She glanced at his computer screen. The code was a mess. The architecture of the software was outdated, causing the lag that was making him lose millions.

Without thinking, she leaned over. Her fingers hovered over the keys.

"What are you doing?" Killian snapped . He had ended the call.

Faith jumped, dropping her polishing cloth. "The.... the logic gates. They're looping. That's why your server is crashing."

Killian walked over, his brow furrowed. "You can read C++?"

"I can read most things," Faith said, her cheeks flushing.

Killian stared at the screen, then at the girl who was supposed to be a "low-life orphan." He stepped aside. "Fix it."

Faith sat in his leather chair. It was warm from his body, and the scent of him-rain and sandalwood-wrapped around her like a blanket. Her fingers flew. For ten minutes, the only sound was the clicking of the keyboard.

When she finished, the server light on the corner of the desk turned a steady, calm green.

Killian looked at the data. He looked at her. A strange, dark intensity grew in his eyes. He didn't say 'thank you.' Instead, he grabbed her chin, forcing her to look up.

"How did you get  those brains, Faith? Orphans in the trenches don't learn system architecture."

"I taught myself," she whispered.

His thumb traced her lower lip. The tension in the room was thick enough to choke on. Killian was fighting himself-his wolf wanted to claim her right there on the desk, but his mind and ego couldn't accept that a wolfless girl was his match.

Suddenly, the heavy doors of the study burst open.

A woman walked in, dripping in diamonds and smelling of aggressive, cloying perfume. It was Lady Elena, the daughter of a neighboring Alpha and the woman everyone expected Killian to marry.

She stopped dead, her eyes landing on Faith sitting in Killian's chair.

"Killian, darling," Elena hissed, her eyes glowing a jealous red. "Why is this.... creature sitting at your desk? And why does she smell like you?"

Killian didn't pull his hand away from Faith. If anything, he held her tighter.

"She's my maid, Elena. And she's currently more useful than your entire pack."

Elena's face deformed with rage. She looked at Faith-really looked at her-and a flicker of recognition crossed her face. "Wait. I know that face. You're the little Dud that Maya was bragging about throwing away."

Faith felt the blood drain from her face.

"Oh, this is interesting ," Elena smirked, stepping closer. "Killian, you're keeping a piece of trash. And trash...are meant to be disposed of."

Elena lunged, her hand shifting into a clawed paw, aiming straight for Faith's throat.

Faith didn't even have time to scream. But she didn't feel the claws.

Killian had moved faster than the eye could see. He caught Elena's wrist in mid-air, the sound of bones grinding together filling the room. He didn't even look at Elena: his eyes remained locked on Faith.

"I said," Killian whispered, his voice a terrifying, low growl that shook the windows. "No one touches her."

As Killian throws Elena out of the room, Faith feels a strange sensation she's never felt before. Deep inside her, something that has been sleeping for twenty years just opened its eyes.

The heavy oak doors of the study clicked shut beind Elena who was seriously fuming. The room suddenly felt five degrees colder, filled only with the scent of Killian's lingering rage and the hum of the computer server Faith had just saved.

Faith tried to stand, her legs still trembling. "Thank you for..."

"Don't thank me Faith", Killian cut her off, his voice sharp as a razor. He didn't look at her; he was staring at the glowing green light on his monitor-the logic gate she had just fixed. "I didn't do it for you. I did it because I don't tolerate trash in my workspace, and I certainly don't tolerate people touching what belongs to me."

Faith's jaw tightened. "I'm not a 'what,' Killian.and I'm a human being with blood not a property".

He finally turned, his grey eyes swirling with an unreadable storm. "In this house, you are a debt-holder. That makes your safety my responsibility, and your time my asset. The fact that you actually understand system architecture is....intriguing, but it doesn't change your status."

He walked toward his desk,. "Since you're so eager to be useful, take these files to the archive room in the West Wing. And don't get lost. I don't have time to send a search party for a maid."

He shoved a heavy leather folder into her arms. His tone was bossy, cold, and dismissive.

Faith took the files, her chest tight with a mix of gratitude and annoyance. "Fine. I'll be out of your hair."

She turned and hurried toward the door, her mind spinning. She was halfway across the polished marble threshold when her foot caught on the edge of the heavy Persian rug. With her hands full of files, she couldn't break her fall.

"Ah-!"

Before she could hit the floor, a blur of motion crossed the room.

A pair of strong, iron-clad arms wrapped around her waist, yanking her back against a hard chest. The files scattered, papers flying around like white birds, but Faith didn't care. She was pressed firmly against Killian.

The contact was electric.

Through the thin fabric of her uniform, she could feel the heat radiating from his body. The "Mate" pull-that strange, magnetic tug in her soul-erupted into a roar. Killian didn't let go. His large hands spanned her waist, his fingers digging slightly into her skin as if he were trying to stabilize himself.

Faith looked up,she gasped . Killian was staring down at her, his face inches from hers. For the first time, the cold Alpha demeanor was  gone. His pupils were blown wide, his nostrils flaring as he inhaled her scent-the scent of honey and wild rain that was driving his wolf mad.

He looked at her eyes, then her lips, his throat working as he gulped hard. For a heartbeat, the billionaire Alpha looked completely lost.

"Faith...." he whispered, his voice no longer cold, but rough and strained.

Faith's heart hammered against her ribs. "I....I thought you said you didn't care about me," she breathed, her voice barely a whisper. "That I was just an asset."

Killian's grip tightened for a second before he realized what he was doing. He cleared his throat abruptly, his face flushing a rare shade of red. He let her go so quickly she almost stumbled again.

"I....I meant," he stuttered, stepping back and smoothing his perfectly straight tie. "I meant that if you break your neck, I have to fill out the insurance paperwork. It's... it's a logistical nightmare."

He wouldn't look at her. He began picking up the scattered papers with jerky movements-completely different from his usual cool self.

"Just.... go, Faith. Before you break something else."

Faith stood there, her skin still tingling where he had touched her. She saw the way his hands shook slightly as he stacked the files. He wasn't indifferent. Not even close. a small knowing smirk played around her lips as she walked away.