"Get out, Brooke. Now."

Madison didn’t even look up from the bed. She remained draped over Jason Miller like a trophy, her legs tangled with his under the rumpled sheets of the Lawson Estate’s guest wing. The air in the room was thick—sour with the scent of spent heat and the musk of a Beta in rut.

"You heard her." Jason’s voice was a raspy edge. He didn't look at me either. He just gripped Madison’s waist, his fingers digging into her skin, and pulled her back against his chest.

The Bayview Medical Center ID badge clipped to my belt felt like a lead weight. I’d just come from Ruth’s bedside. She was dying—her organs failing because her wolf was too weak to sustain her—and my mate was busy knotting into my sister.

"He's a Beta, Madison," I said, my voice cracking like dry parchment. "He’s my transition-partner. My mate."

"He was your boyfriend, Brooke. Keep the terminology straight." Madison let out a sharp, jagged laugh and arched her back, rubbing her scent all over the pillows. "But he’s a Lawson dog now. And honestly? He’s much better at following orders than you are."

Jason groaned, his head tilting back as Madison’s hand drifted downward beneath the duvet. "Brooke, just... leave. We’re busy."

"Busy?" I took a step forward, my claws itching to break the skin of my palms. "Ruth needs the marrow transplant. The healers said if we don’t pay the tribute to the Citadel by morning—"

"Go beg elsewhere, wolfless bitch!" Madison snapped. She sat up, the quilt sliding down to reveal the fresh, angry red marks on her collarbone. "This is a private room. Get. Out."

The door behind me slammed open. My father, Richard, stood there, his Alpha presence flooding the room like a physical blow to the gut. Evelyn was right behind him, her eyes cold, taking in the scene with a calculated sneer.

"What is this stench?" Richard roared.

"Dad!" Madison shifted into a practiced pout, pulling the sheets to her chin. "Brooke just burst in! She’s trying to ruin everything because Jason chose me. She’s jealous!"

Richard’s gaze swung to me. He didn’t see a daughter. He saw a defect. A Lawson born without a scent, a girl who couldn't shift, a stain on his lineage.

"You’re harassing your sister over a discarded Beta?" Richard’s lip curled. "Pathetic."

"Jason was supposed to help me pay for Ruth’s treatment," I whispered. "He promised."

"Ruth is a servant, Brooke," Evelyn stepped forward, her silk robe trailing like a serpent's tail. "And Jason is staying here. With Madison. She’s pregnant with a True-Blood heir. We aren't wasting a single coin on a dying foster-nurse."

The world tilted. Pregnant? Jason’s eyes darted to the floor. The betrayal wasn't just a sting; it was a Hunt. And I was the prey.

"She can't be pregnant with his child," I said, my heart hammering. "The laws... she’s betrothed to the Pierce Alpha. The 'Gaston' outcast."

"I am NOT marrying that freak!" Madison screamed, throwing a pillow at the wall. "He’s a monster! They say he lives in the ruins like a rogue! I’d rather die!"

"Quiet!" Richard snapped. He looked at me, his eyes narrowing as a dark, predatory light flickered in them. "Evelyn is right. You want the money for the old woman’s surgery?"

I froze. "What?"

"The Pierce Compound expects a bride tomorrow at dawn," Richard said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous rumble. "They want a Lawson daughter to seal the border treaty. They don't care which one. They just want the bloodline."

"No," I breathed. "You’re asking me to go to the Citadel? To Logan Pierce? He kills his omegas. Everyone knows—"

"He’s a failure," Evelyn interrupted, her voice a soothing poison. "An Alpha stripped of his pack. You’re wolfless. You’re both broken. It’s a perfect match. You sign the mating contract, we transfer the credits to Bayview Medical. Ruth lives. You go to the Harbor View ruins."

"She’ll be a snack for the rogues within a week," Madison giggled, snuggling back into Jason’s side. "It’s perfect. Do it, Brooke. Save your little 'mommy' and go play house with the beast."

The silence in the room was suffocating. I could smell Jason’s sweat, Madison’s triumph, and the cold, metallic scent of my father’s ambition.

I thought of Ruth. Her pale face. The way she’d held my hand when the other kids at the foster den bit me for being "hollow."

"The full amount?" I asked, my voice barely a ghost. "The transplant and the recovery?"

"Every cent," Richard said.

I looked at Jason. He wouldn't even meet my eyes. He just squeezed Madison’s thigh, his claim solidified.

"Fine," I said, swallowing the bile in my throat. "I’ll go to the Pierce Compound. Get the paperwork."

Madison’s laugh followed me as I turned toward the hall. "Have fun in the dark, sister! Try not to get eaten on the first night!"

I smoothed the cheap white lace of my slip dress, the fabric thin against my skin. It wasn't a wedding gown; it was a shroud for the life I used to want. I didn’t waste silver on a real dress. Every shard of coin I possessed had to go toward the Bayview Medical Center to keep Ruth’s failing heart beating.

I had braided a few stems of white baby’s-breath into my hair with a scrap of silk ribbon. In the dim, cold light of the Lawson Estate’s private chapel, I looked like a sacrificial lamb.

The pews were mostly empty. The air smelled of damp stone and old incense, but beneath it, the heavy, metallic scent of Alpha blood hung over my father like a suffocating shroud. He kept checking his watch, his jaw tight.

"Stop pacing, Brooke," Richard Lawson muttered, not even looking at me. "He’s probably just navigating the mist. He’ll be here."

My chest felt hollow. I knew the rumors about the man I was traded to. Logan Pierce. A "hollow" Alpha, a man cast out from the Pierce Compound, a gutter-wolf who spent his nights in the fighting pits of the Shifter Citadel. They said he was more beast than man now—unstable, violent, and dirt poor.

"Why is the groom’s side of the chapel a graveyard?" Evelyn Lawson hissed. She was draped in silk the color of a bruised plum, her scent—lilies and cloying honey—masking the disdain rolling off her. "It’s an insult. The Pierce bloodline clearly considers this a joke."

I didn’t care about the insult. I only cared about the price. I stepped closer to her, my voice a low rasp. "The moment the ritual is sealed, you transfer the credits to Ruth’s account. That was the blood-oath."

Evelyn flicked a speck of dust off her sleeve, her eyes darting to the door. "We are family, Brooke. Stop acting like a common merchant. You’ll get your money when the contract is signed. Don't test my patience."

The heavy oak doors creaked, and my stomach did a slow, sickening roll.

Madison sauntered in, her hand clamped firmly around Jason’s arm. She was dressed in gold, shimmering like a taunt. Jason looked like he wanted to vanish into the floorboards. When his eyes met mine, a flicker of guilt crossed his face, but he didn't pull away from her. He couldn't. She carried the heir he’d used to buy his way into the Lawson inner circle.

"Oh, look," Madison chirped, her voice cutting through the silence like a jagged blade. "The bride is waiting, but the beast hasn't arrived. Maybe he forgot he was getting a wife today, or maybe he’s passed out in a gutter somewhere."

Jason’s grip on her arm tightened, his gaze lingering on the way the white dress clung to my frame.

"Eyes on me, Jason," Madison snapped, her scent turning sharp and acidic with jealousy. "What’s there to look at? She’s marrying a stray. A bastard who can't even show up on time because his own family won't lend him a carriage."

She turned her sneer back to me. "I almost feel bad for you, Brooke. To be dumped by a real wolf and handed over to a failure. You two can rot in the Harbor View ruins together. You'll fit right in—two broken things with no pack."

I looked at my sister—the girl who had taken my mate, my future, and now my dignity. The "quiet grit" they said I had snapped. I stepped toward her, my shadow stretching long across the stone floor.

"Mind your tongue, Madison," I said, my voice cold enough to frost the air. "We are in a sacred place of the Great Wolf. Don't let your lack of manners stain what’s left of our name. Or does the baby in your belly make you forget how to act like a Lawson?"

Madison gasped, her face flushing a deep, angry red. The chapel went deathly silent. My father stepped forward, his hand raised as if to strike, but the sound of the Great Hall’s outer gates groaning open stopped him.

The heavy doors at the back of the chapel swung wide.

The morning sun flooded in, blinding us all. A silhouette stood there—tall, broad-shouldered, and radiating a sudden, violent shift in the room's pressure. The air didn't just move; it thickened.

As the doors settled, the man stepped into the shadows. He was dressed in a charcoal suit that fit him like armor, the fabric stretching over powerful, coiled muscles. He didn't look like a gutter-wolf. He looked like a storm given human shape.

His eyes—dark, piercing, and terrifyingly intelligent—swept the room, landing on me with the weight of a physical blow. He moved with a predatory grace that made the Alphas in the room look like pups. He adjusted his cufflink, his expression a mask of icy calm that didn't hide the raw power thrumming beneath his skin.

The man didn't just walk; he reclaimed the space. He was a pillar of dark, refined power, his Alpha scent suppressed so tightly it felt like the static before a lightning strike.

Beside me, Madison’s eyes practically popped. I saw the gears turning in her head—the shallow, greedy click-clack of a Lawson social climber. She probably thought he was one of the High Alphas from the Pierce Compound sent to represent the family. After all, the "Gaston" she’d rejected was supposed to be a mangy street-dog, a gutter-wolf with nothing to his name but a stain. This man looked like he owned the stars and the dirt beneath them.

I watched her face flush a deep, thirsty red. She cast a side-glance at Jason, and I almost laughed. My ex-boyfriend, the "big prize" she’d stolen, suddenly looked like a wet pup standing next to a direwolf.

Madison actually had the nerve to smooth her hair and sashay toward him. "You must be the elder brother," she purred, her voice dripping with that fake, high-caste honey. "The ceremony is lagging because the groom is... well, late as usual. You should take the front pew. It’s a shame the Pierce family has such low standards for their outcasts."

She reached out as if to touch his arm, her eyes fluttering.

He didn't even blink. He moved past her like she was a piece of cheap furniture, his gaze locked onto me.

Madison froze, her hand hanging in the empty air. The rejection was so total, so cold, that her smug smile turned into a mask of pure humiliation. She stumbled back to our parents, huffing like a scorched cat.

"Mom," I heard her hiss to Evelyn, her voice trembling with a mix of fury and regret. "Why didn't you show me a photo? If I knew the Pierce outcast looked like that, I never would have let Brooke take my place."

Evelyn gripped Madison’s wrist, her voice a low, jagged whisper. "Don't be a fool. A handsome face doesn't pay the Citadel tribute. He’s still a hollow Alpha with no pack and no future. He’s a dead man walking, and Brooke is going to the grave with him. Look at his clothes—probably stolen or rented to save face."

But the man was standing in front of me now. He was tall—towering, really—and the heat coming off his body made the thin fabric of my dress feel like it was melting. He looked down at me, his eyes dark and unreadable, like a forest at midnight.

"I had business at the border," he said. His voice was a low, gravelly vibration that settled right in my marrow. "The mist was heavy. I don't apologize for the delay, but I'm here."

"It doesn't matter," I whispered, my heart thumping against my ribs. "You showed up. That’s more than I expected."

I looked down, trying to steady my breath, and that’s when I saw it.

As he adjusted the heavy cuff of his jacket, the sunlight from the high window caught the watch on his wrist. It wasn't just a timepiece; it was a masterpiece of silver and obsidian, the kind of relic only the High Council or the wealthiest Citadel Lords could ever dream of wearing. I’d spent enough time around my father’s "business" associates to know that watch cost more than the Lawson Estate.

My blood went cold.

Everyone said Logan Pierce was a bottom-feeder. A loser. A wolf who scavenged for scraps in the Harbor View ruins.

I looked back up into his eyes. He wasn't a scavenger. He was a predator hiding in plain sight.

"What's the matter?" he asked, a faint, dangerous tilt to his lips.

"Nothing," I lied, my fingers trembling as I reached for his hand to begin the blood-binding. "Let’s just get this over with."