Anna POV:

The rage hadn't faded.

It was a hot, buzzing thing under my skin. I channeled it into my work, scrubbing the stainless steel steam wand of my espresso machine with a fury that made the metal gleam.

Scrub, scrub, scrub.

Each motion was a mental jab at Hayes's smug face. Close my shop? Serve your parents? Wolfless?

I was so lost in my anger that I didn't hear the bell on the door jingle. I only registered someone was there when a large shadow fell over me, blocking the afternoon light.

A deep, calm voice spoke my name. "Anna."

I looked up, startled, my hand freezing on the machine.

A man stood on the other side of the counter. He was tall, with broad shoulders that strained the fabric of a simple flannel shirt. He had dark, thick hair, a clean-shaven jaw, and eyes so deep and brown they seemed to pull you in. There was something familiar about his face, a ghost of a memory from a long time ago.

"I'm sorry, do I know you?" I asked, wiping my hands on my apron.

A slow, easy smile touched his lips, and recognition clicked into place. Derrick Farrell. He'd been a few years ahead of me in the pack's designated high school. He was quiet back then, always in the background. A nobody, really. Just another wolf from a lower-ranking family. My elder brother Michael knew him well, but I'd barely exchanged a dozen words with him.

"Derrick," I said, a genuine smile replacing my scowl. It was nice to see a friendly, or at least neutral, face. "Wow. It's been years. What are you doing in this part of town?"

"Working a construction gig down the street," he said, his voice a low rumble that was surprisingly pleasant. "Saw the sign. Figured I'd see if the coffee was as good as the name."

His smile was warm, and his eyes held a friendly light. He felt... safe. Normal.

"Well, you came to the right place," I said, my professional persona kicking in. "What can I get for you?"

"How about a pour-over? Whatever you recommend."

"Coming right up."

I moved with practiced ease, grinding the beans, the whir of the machine a familiar comfort. The rich, nutty aroma of the coffee filled the air, and I felt some of the tension in my shoulders begin to unwind.

As I prepared the filter, Derrick leaned against the counter, his posture relaxed. "I think I saw you earlier," he said casually. "Leaving the cafe down the street. You seemed to be in a hurry."

I sighed, the anger from my disastrous date bubbling up again. I stopped what I was doing and leaned my own hands on the counter. "You have no idea."

And then, it all came spilling out. The thirty-minute wait, the condescending attitude, the demand that I close my shop, the wolfless comment. I told this man who was almost a stranger to me, this ghost from my past, everything. He was just so easy to talk to. He listened, his dark eyes fixed on my face, his expression unreadable but intent. He didn't interrupt. He just let me vent.

When I got to the part about him calling me wolfless, a flicker of something cold and hard passed through his eyes. It was there and gone so fast I thought I might have imagined it.

"And then there was Cody," I found myself saying, the name leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. "My ex. He cheated on me six months ago. Told me I was lucky he'd even dated a wolfless human in the first place. I swear, I think all the men in this pack are programmed with the same arrogant, misogynistic software."

At the mention of Cody's name, I saw Derrick's hand, which was resting on the counter, clench into a fist. The knuckles went white. Again, the reaction was so swift, so quickly controlled, that I dismissed it. He was probably just a decent guy who hated hearing about cheaters.

"He sounds like an idiot," Derrick said, his voice still calm, but with an underlying edge of steel. He reached over and gently took a paper napkin from the dispenser, dabbing at a drop of water that had splashed onto the back of my hand while I was talking. "You're not any of those things they say you are. You built this place. That takes strength."

His fingers brushed against my skin. A tiny, unexpected jolt, like static electricity, shot up my arm. I pulled my hand back, my cheeks suddenly warm.

"Thanks," I mumbled, turning my attention back to the coffee, my heart beating a little faster. I finished the pour-over, the hot water blooming over the grounds, and pushed the steaming mug across the counter to him.

"It's just..." I started, then stopped, shaking my head. "It's my mother. She's the one setting up these horrible dates. She's desperate to see me mated off."

As if on cue, my phone, tucked into the pocket of my apron, began to vibrate violently. A frantic, angry buzzing against my hip.

I pulled it out. The screen glowed with a single word: Mom.

A wave of exhaustion washed over me. I pressed the ignore button and shoved the phone back into my pocket, closing my eyes for a brief second.

"Trouble?" Derrick asked softly.

"The source of all my problems," I muttered. "She won't stop until I'm married off to some 'suitable' Alpha who will probably want me to be a domestic slave." I let out a humorless laugh. "God, sometimes I wish I could just hire a fake boyfriend. Someone to parade in front of her for a few months until she finally gets off my back."

Derrick picked up his coffee mug, taking a slow sip. He watched me over the rim, his eyes thoughtful. He didn't say anything, but a corner of his mouth tilted up in a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. It was a hunter's smile.

My phone started vibrating again, more insistently this time.

"I'm so sorry," I said, pulling off my apron in frustration. "I have to take this, or she'll send a search party."

"Go ahead," he said, his voice smooth as silk. "I'm not in any hurry." He took his mug and walked over to a small table in the corner, settling into a chair as if he had all the time in the world.

I gave him a grateful look and retreated toward the back of the shop, my phone buzzing like an angry hornet in my hand.

With a deep, fortifying breath, I swiped to answer, bracing myself for the storm.

"Anna, what have you done?"

I walked through the curtained doorway into the small, cluttered employee break room, the scent of coffee and my mother's impending rage filling my senses.

---

Anna POV:

"What have you done?"

My mother's voice was a shriek, so sharp and high-pitched it felt like a physical jab in my eardrum. I held the phone an inch away from my ear, wincing.

"Hello to you too, Mom," I said, sinking onto a worn-out stool in the cramped break room. I rubbed my temples, a headache already beginning to form.

"Don't you 'hello' me! Hayes's mother just called me. Hysterical! She said you assaulted her son! You threw a drink on him in public!"

"He was a misogynistic pig who told me I had to give up my life's work to become his personal servant," I shot back, my voice low and tight. "He was lucky it was only iced coffee."

"He's from the Goodwin family, Anna! They are one of the most respected lines in this pack! You don't have the right to be picky! You're wolfless! Do you understand what that means? Your options are limited!"

There it was again. Wolfless. The word she used like a brand to remind me of my place. A cold, sharp pain lanced through my chest. My hand tightened on the phone, my knuckles turning white. It wasn't just the word; it was the way she said it. Like I was a defective product she was trying to offload before the warranty expired.

"My options are my own," I said through gritted teeth.

"No, they are not!" she screeched. "If you don't secure a proper mating by the end of the month, the elders will step in. Alpha Marcus has already suggested a match. Bernard from the Silver Creek Pack."

My blood ran cold. Bernard was in his late fifties, twice divorced, with a notorious drinking problem and hands that wandered. The thought of him touching me made my stomach churn with bile.

"No," I whispered, a wave of pure, hot rage surging through me. "Absolutely not." I kicked the metal leg of a storage shelf, the impact rattling a stack of coffee filters. "He's a disgusting old drunk, Mom! You'd really marry me off to him? You don't care if I'm happy, do you? You just care about appearances!"

"Don't be dramatic," she said, her voice turning cold and dismissive. "It's a good alliance. The elders have spoken. My hands are tied."

A suffocating wave of despair washed over me. The walls of the tiny break room felt like they were closing in. I was trapped. No matter how hard I fought, they would find a way to cage me. My gaze drifted aimlessly around the room, landing on the gap in the curtain that led back into the cafe.

Through the opening, I could see him. Derrick. He was sitting quietly at the corner table, nursing his coffee, a picture of calm in my storm. He was just a normal guy. A working man. Uncomplicated.

An idea, wild and desperate, flickered in my mind. A tiny spark in the overwhelming darkness.

I pressed the phone against my chest, muffling the speaker. I pushed through the curtain and walked quickly to his table. He looked up as I approached, his dark eyes questioning.

"I'm so sorry to ask this," I whispered, my voice frantic. "This is going to sound crazy, but do you know anything about the prominent families in Crestfall City? Like, gossip? Scandals?"

A strange light gleamed in his eyes. He leaned forward, his voice a low conspiratorial rumble. "The Hendersons' youngest son has a gambling problem. Alpha Sterling's designated heir just got his third DUI. And the Goodwin family? Their entire fortune is built on a fraudulent land deal from two generations ago. It's an open secret."

It was exactly the ammunition I needed. I felt a surge of triumphant energy.

I hurried back into the break room, putting the phone back to my ear. "A good alliance?" I scoffed, my voice dripping with newfound confidence. "You mean with the Goodwins, whose family wealth is a complete sham? Or maybe you'd prefer I marry into the Hendersons, so my future mate can gamble away my coffee shop? These 'noble' families are a joke, Mom."

There was a stunned silence on the other end of the line. I had never spoken to her like this, never used the pack's dirty laundry against her.

She sputtered, trying to regain control. "You are being disrespectful, Anna!"

"I'm being realistic!"

"That's it!" she finally snapped, her voice hard as nails. "I am done with your games. This weekend. You will bring home a suitable fiancé to the family dinner. Not a date. A fiancé. Or on Monday morning, I will personally drive you to the courthouse to sign the papers with Bernard. This is your final warning."

The line went dead.

I stood there, the dial tone buzzing in my ear. A fiancé. By the weekend. It was impossible. She had finally checkmated me.

My arm dropped to my side, the phone feeling impossibly heavy. It almost slipped from my numb fingers.

I stumbled back out into the cafe, my legs feeling weak. Derrick was watching me, his expression concerned. He stood up and pulled a napkin from the dispenser, holding it out to me. I hadn't even realized I was crying until I felt a tear slide down my cheek.

I took the napkin, my fingers brushing his again. This time, the warmth from his hand felt grounding. Steady.

I looked at him. At his solid frame, his calm demeanor. He wasn't an Alpha. He wasn't from a powerful family. He was just... Derrick. And in that moment, he seemed like the only solid thing in a world that was crumbling around me.

A fake boyfriend wouldn't work. My mother was too shrewd. She'd see through it in a second. She'd demand proof, background checks, a family meeting.

Only something real, something legally binding, would stop her. A marriage certificate.

The crazy spark from before ignited into a full-blown, terrifying blaze. It was insane. It was reckless. It was my only way out.

My breathing evened out. My gaze sharpened, focusing on Derrick with a new, desperate intensity. He met my stare, his head tilted slightly. A flicker of something-anticipation?-crossed his face.

I walked back to his table, but this time, I wasn't asking for gossip. I pulled out the chair opposite him and sat down, the motion deliberate and formal.

I folded my hands on the tabletop, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. This was either the stupidest or the smartest thing I had ever done.

"Derrick," I began, my voice surprisingly steady.

"I have a proposition for you."

The words hung in the air between us, suspended in the thick aroma of coffee and desperation.

Derrick leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his broad chest. He didn't look surprised. He looked... interested. He raised a single, dark eyebrow. "I'm listening."

My mouth was suddenly dry. I licked my lips, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs. "I need a fiancé. Just for show. To get my mother and the pack elders off my back." I rushed the words out before I could lose my nerve. "I would pay you, of course. A generous amount. You'd just have to show up to a family dinner this weekend, play the part. After a few months, we can stage a messy, public breakup. Everyone goes their separate ways."

He was silent for a long moment, his dark eyes studying my face. The intensity of his gaze made me feel like a butterfly pinned to a board. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and thoughtful.

"A fake fiancé," he mused, tapping a finger against his chin. "Your mother strikes me as a sharp woman, Anna. Do you really think she'll be fooled by a show? She'll ask questions. She'll want to see proof."

He was right. My stomach sank. "I know," I admitted, my voice barely a whisper. "It's a long shot, but I don't have any other options."

Derrick leaned forward, his forearms resting on the table. The space between us shrank, and his presence seemed to fill my entire field of vision. He smelled of sawdust, fresh air, and something else... something uniquely masculine and deeply unsettling.

"There is another option," he said, his voice dropping even lower, a conspiratorial rumble. "One that's foolproof."

I looked at him, confused.

"We get married."