"You’re late, Avery."

The voice sliced through the thunder rattling the Montgomery Estate. Hudson stood by the hearth, the dying fire catching the amber gold in his eyes. He didn't turn. He didn't have to. His scent—rain, cedar, and the suffocating pressure of a dominant Alpha—pinned Avery against the oak door.

Avery’s fingers curled into her palms. She couldn't answer. The scars across her throat, a "gift" from the fever that had burned away her wolf and her voice at age seven, kept her a prisoner of silence.

"The Council is circling," Hudson growled, finally turning. He stripped off his soaked leather jacket, his movements predatory. "They want an heir. They want to know why my 'Mate-Bond' yielded a broken female who can't even howl to the moon."

He crossed the room in two strides, his hand tilting her head back. For a second, the cold mask slipped. Avery saw it—a flash of the boy who had once promised to be her voice before the world broke them both. But then the mask hardened.

"Open," he commanded.

His mouth crashed against hers, tasting of bourbon and storm clouds. It wasn't a kiss; it was a reclamation. He shoved her against the cold stone wall, his hands bruising the skin of her thighs with a desperate, angry hunger.

Avery let out a jagged, clicking sound from her ruined throat.

"Don't," Hudson hissed against her skin, his forehead resting against hers for a heartbeat too long to be accidental. "Just for tonight... let me forget you're broken. Let me forget what we've become."

He entered her with a brutal, heavy thrust that made her knees buckle. Avery’s fingers clawed at the stone, her eyes blown wide. Every strike of his body against hers felt like an accusation. Why can't you speak? Why can't you love me? She wanted to scream his name. She wanted to tell him that she still remembered the way he used to hold her hand before he became the Alpha and she became the Ghost. Instead, she could only offer him those wet, gasping breaths as she shattered under him.

He marked her with his teeth—not the bond-bite she craved, but a temporary claim that would fade by morning.

As he withdrew, leaving her cold and slick, a phone vibrated on the nightstand. The screen glowed with a message from Delaney Cross, the High-Beta’s daughter: Hudson, come back to the Scarlett Vale. It kills me to think of you touching that mute.

Avery pulled her torn clothes together, her heart a lead weight. She wasn't his mate; she was his penance.

The next morning, the Silver Ridge Great Hall was a cathedral of bone and judgment. Avery walked at Hudson’s side, the "Loser’s Greeting"—a low thrumming of knuckles against wood—following her every step.

"Look at her," the whispers rose like woodsmoke. "A waste of a womb. The Moon Goddess doesn't plant seeds in broken soil."

Hudson’s mother, Victoria, stepped forward, snatching a pack-infant away before Avery could even look at it. "We don't know if silence is contagious, Avery. I won't have the Montgomery heir tainted by a Ghost's touch."

The Hall erupted in cruel, sharp laughter. Avery looked toward Hudson, expecting him to turn away in shame as he usually did.

Instead, Hudson slammed his goblet onto the stone table. The crack sounded like a bone breaking.

"Enough," he growled, the Alpha-command forcing every wolf in the room to drop their gaze. "My mate is my business. If anyone here has a problem with her rank, step into the pit with me. Otherwise, shut your mouths."

The silence that followed was suffocating. He grabbed Avery’s arm, hauling her out of the Hall and into the rain-drenched carriage.

Inside the cramped space, the air was thick with things unsaid. Avery reached out, her fingers trembling as she touched his hand.

"Don't," Hudson muttered, staring out the window. "They were making me look weak. I didn't do it for you." He turned to her, his gaze searching her face with a sudden, raw intensity. "Is that why you won't give me an heir, Avery? Because you think I’ll hate a child that looks like you? Or are you just trying to punish me for what we lost?"

Avery froze. The phantom scent of copper filled her nose. She remembered the secret room in the infirmary three years ago—the way Victoria had held her down while the healer performed the "cleansing" of the pregnancy Hudson never knew existed.

I loved our child, she screamed in the graveyard of her mind. Your mother killed it because she couldn't risk a 'Ghost' in the lineage.

She looked at him, her eyes brimming with a truth she couldn't speak. She reached for his hand again, wanting to trace the words into his palm, but he pulled away.

"I thought so," Hudson said, his voice turning back to ice. "Just a hollow contract."

He didn't see the single tear that tracked through the dust on her cheek. He didn't see the way her hand hovered over her empty womb, mourning a ghost that would never find its voice.

"Forget about a pup, Avery. You didn’t even bother with the suppressant herbs after last night, did you?"

Hudson’s voice was a low vibration in the cramped space of the carriage. His eyes, glowing a predatory amber in the dim light, tracked the pulse jumping in Avery’s throat.

Avery lifted her hands, her movements sharp and jagged. It wasn't my fertile window. There’s no risk.

"Good," Hudson grunted, leaning back into the leather seat. The scent of his irritation—like ozone and wet earth—filled the cabin. "At least you’re being practical. A wolfless heir is a death sentence in the Silver Ridge. I don't need that headache."

Avery looked out the window. The jagged peaks of the Montgomery territory blurred behind a veil of freezing rain. She was a 'Ghost'—a high-born female whose wolf had never surfaced. To the pack, she was a defect. To Hudson, she was a silent contract meant to keep the Council off his back.

"The scent of the city is all over you," Hudson muttered, a sudden shift in his tone. "Go to the spa. Get the mud and the oils. I’ll send a Beta to guard you."

Avery shook her head, her fingers flying. I have work at the archives. The old scrolls need translating.

Hudson’s jaw tightened. "Menial labor. You’re the Luna of the Montgomery Pack, even if it’s just on paper. Stop acting like a servant."

Avery didn't respond. She couldn't. She just watched the rain. She remembered when they were kids—before the fever took her voice and her wolf. Hudson had promised to be her protector, her Alpha. He’d kept the title, but the boy who cared had been replaced by a man who looked at her like a broken tool.

The carriage lurched to a halt near the border of the Silver Ridge market. A sharp rap on the glass startled her.

As the window slid down, the scent of jasmine and desperation flooded in. Madison Clarke stood there, her blonde hair plastered to her face, eyes swollen and red. The pack’s "sweetheart"—and Hudson’s open secret.

"Hudson!" Madison sobbed, clutching the door handle. "I waited at the Scarlett Vale for hours. They told me you were at the Moon-Naming ceremony. Did you go back to her just to hurt me? Because we fought about the Council?"

Avery watched Hudson. The icy Alpha mask didn't just slip; it shattered.

"Madison, get inside before you catch a chill," Hudson said, his voice dropping an octave, sounding more human than he had all day.

"I won't!" Madison hissed, her eyes darting to Avery with pure venom. "Not while it is sitting there. Is she the reason you’re being so cold? Does her silence give you peace from my 'nagging'?"

"You’re being dramatic," Hudson said, though he reached out and tucked a wet strand of hair behind Madison’s ear.

Madison pouted, her voice turning into a sugary purr. "Then prove it. Make her get out. It’s freezing, and I’m not standing out here while a Ghost occupies my seat."

Hudson looked at Avery. There was no hesitation. No guilt. Just the cold calculation of a wolf choosing his favorite.

"The archives are only a few blocks away," Hudson said. "The walk will do you good. Get out, Avery."

Avery felt the sting in her eyes but refused to let a tear fall. She opened the door and stepped into the slush. Madison didn't wait for her to clear the path. She climbed in, pulling out a silk cloth and frantically wiping down the leather where Avery had been sitting.

"Ugh, it smells like... nothing," Madison mocked, loud enough for Avery to hear through the closing door. "Like a vacuum. How do you stand the scent of a wolfless female, Hudson? It’s like sleeping with a corpse."

"Drop it, Madison," Hudson’s voice muffled as the carriage pulled away, splashing muddy water over Avery’s boots.

Avery stood in the rain, her chest aching with a scream that would never find air. She turned and began the long trek toward the archives.

"I’m going to shift and rip his throat out," Harper Bennett snarled, slamming a stack of heavy parchment onto the desk. "I don't care if he’s the Alpha. Throwing you out in the rain for that mangy coyote?"

Avery managed a weak smile, signing a quick thank you. Harper was the only one in the pack who didn't treat her like an omen of bad luck.

"This 'Mate-Contract' is a cage, Avery," Harper whispered, leaning in. "Look at you. You’re a brilliant translator. You know the old tongue better than the Elders. You’re worth ten of Madison. If you ever get a chance to run, take it."

Avery nodded, but her heart wasn't in it. She felt heavy. Exhausted.

"Look, I’ll handle the delivery to the Silver Ridge Hotel," Harper said, grabbing a crate of magazines and scrolls. "You look like you’re about to collapse. Go to the breakroom. Drink some tea."

Avery shook her head. She couldn't let Harper do the heavy lifting. They argued in silence for a minute before agreeing to split the delivery.

The Silver Ridge Hotel was a sprawling fortress of glass and stone, usually reserved for visiting Alphas. Avery pushed a heavy brass cart toward the service elevators in Building A, her muscles screaming.

"Well, look what the rain washed in."

Avery froze. Madison Clarke stood by the elevator, draped in a new white fox-fur coat that screamed Montgomery wealth. Gone was the crying girl from the carriage. In her place was a predator.

"Following us, Ghost?" Madison stepped into Avery’s personal space. Her scent was aggressive now—sharp and mocking. "Did you think you’d catch us in the penthouse? Planning to watch since you can't participate?"

Avery’s hands moved with practiced coldness. I am working. Move.

Madison laughed, a harsh, grating sound. "Working? You’re a delivery girl. A mute servant with a fancy last name. You think because Hudson defends your 'honor' in front of his mother that he actually wants you? He’s just protecting his property."

Madison leaned in, whispering into Avery’s ear. "He told me last night that being with you is like a chore. He has to close his eyes and pretend you're me just to finish. You’re a placeholder, Avery. A biological error."

Avery’s vision blurred. She shoved the cart forward, forcing Madison to step back. Her hands moved in a blur of motion. Hudson will never love a snake like you. He knows what you are.

Madison’s face contorted. "He loves what I can give him. A real wolf. An heir. Things a broken thing like you can never provide."

Madison grabbed Avery’s wrist, her grip tightening until the bone groaned. "Stay away from the penthouse. If I see your pathetic face near our room, I’ll make sure the Council hears about your 'instability.' One word from me, and they’ll have you sent to the Outlands."

Avery ripped her arm away, her throat tight. She didn't stay to watch Madison walk away. She pushed the cart into the elevator, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.

She reached the top floor, her mind a static mess of Madison’s insults and Hudson’s cold eyes. She needed to finish the delivery and disappear.

As she rounded the corner toward the Alpha Suite’s library, a door stood slightly ajar.

The sound hit her first. A low, guttural growl that she knew intimately.

Avery stopped. Through the gap in the door, she saw him. Hudson was pinned against the mahogany desk, his shirt discarded on the floor. Madison was draped over him, her hands wandering over his scarred chest.

"Tell me," Madison moaned, her voice carrying easily in the quiet hallway. "Tell me she means nothing. Tell me you’ll sign the papers after the winter solstice."

Hudson’s hands gripped Madison’s waist, his knuckles white. He didn't answer with words. He growled, a sound of pure, primal hunger, and buried his face in her neck.

Avery didn't drop the magazines. She didn't make a sound. She simply stood there as the reality of her five-year silence finally shattered.

She turned the cart around, the wheels squeaking on the marble floor. She didn't care who heard. She didn't care if the Council saw her.

She made it to the service stairs before her legs gave out. She slumped against the cold concrete, her breath coming in ragged, silent sobs.

A shadow fell over her.

"You shouldn't be here, Avery."

She looked up. Dr. Ryan Mercer, the pack’s physician, stood over her. His expression wasn't cold like the others. It was... pained.

"I was looking for you," Mercer said, his voice a low whisper. He held a small, leather-bound folder. "The blood tests from your last 'check-up' with the Matriarch... I found something. Something they tried to bury."

Avery frowned, her fingers trembling as she signed. What?

Mercer knelt beside her, his eyes darting to the security camera at the end of the hall.

"You aren't a Ghost, Avery. Your wolf isn't dormant because of a fever. It was suppressed. Chemically."

Avery’s heart stopped.

"And the pregnancy you 'lost' three years ago?" Mercer’s voice was barely audible. "It didn't fail. It was taken. And it wasn't the only one."

The world tilted. Avery gripped the doctor’s sleeve, her eyes pleading for him to stop, for him to explain.

"Hudson thinks you’re barren," Mercer said, "because that’s what his mother wants him to believe. But Avery... look at the dates."

He opened the folder, pointing to a series of lab results.

"You’re pregnant right now. Five weeks."

Avery stared at the paper. Last night. The "carelessness."

"And if Victoria finds out," Mercer whispered, "you won't make it to the next full moon."

Avery’s hands were useless. No matter how fast her fingers blurred in the ancient sign language of the Silver Ridge, they couldn't cut through the thick, oily smear of Madison’s lies.

Madison’s mouth twisted into a jagged grin. "Don't get it twisted, Ghost. Those hand signals? To Hudson, they’re just the annoying twitching of a pet that can't bark. You think that Mate-Contract makes you a Luna?"

Avery’s jaw tightened. A sharp, clicking sound escaped her scarred throat as she tried to force out a rejection. Not true.

"Don't strain yourself," Madison sneered, stepping closer until the scent of her cloying jasmine perfume choked Avery. "Why try to speak when you could just crawl? It’s more your speed. Go on. Get on all fours and maybe I’ll toss you a scrap of Hudson’s attention."

Madison leaned down, her voice a cruel hiss. "Oh, wait. I forgot. You can't even growl. You’re less than a wolf. You're just a parasite in a silver dress."

Suddenly, a blur of motion erupted from the shadows of the hotel corridor. A hand clamped onto Madison’s blonde hair, yanking her head back with a sickening snap of her neck.

"You shameless bitch!" Harper Bennett screamed. "You’re a tick on this pack’s hide. How dare you talk to the Alpha’s mate like she’s dirt?"

Harper didn't let go. She twisted her grip, nearly lifting Madison off her stilettos. Madison shrieked, clawing at Harper’s arm, her pampered nails drawing blood. Harper didn't flinch. She swung her free hand in a brutal arc, the slap echoing like a gunshot through the marble hall.

"Hit me again and I’ll shift and eat your heart!" Madison wailed, stumbling back. Her balance failed, and she hit the floor hard, right at Avery’s feet.

But the second Madison saw a shadow darkening the far end of the hallway, her face transformed. The malice vanished, replaced by a trembling, tear-streaked mask of terror. She grabbed Avery’s ankle, sobbing.

"I’m sorry! Please, Avery, I didn't mean to mention the old days... I know you hate that Hudson loved me first! Just don't let her hit me again... please!"

"Avery! What the hell is going on?"

Hudson’s voice was a physical weight. He stalked toward them, his Alpha aura flared so high the lights in the corridor flickered.

Madison buried her face in her hands. "Hudson, don't blame her! It’s my fault for being here. She has every right to be bitter... I deserve this..."

Harper stepped forward, chest heaving. "Don't listen to this parasite! I’m the one who leveled her. Avery didn't do a damn thing but stand there while this bitch insulted her bloodline."

Hudson didn't look at Harper. His amber eyes were locked on Avery, cold and sharp as obsidian shards. "Avery, you’re supposed to be at the archives. This is what you do with your time? Stalking the halls to start brawls?"

Avery felt a hot tear track through the grime on her cheek. She reached out, her fingers trembling as she tried to sign the truth, but Hudson already had his arm around Madison’s waist, hoisting her up.

"You're a disappointment," Hudson spat.

He turned his back, Madison clinging to him like a vine. Their fingers intertwined as they walked away.

"Wait for me!" Madison whimpered, her voice dripping with fake frailty. She leaned into his ear, loud enough for the wind to carry back. "Why is she even here? Probably meeting some rogue... no wonder she stays silent. Hard to lie when you can't speak."

Hudson stiffened. He stopped, ripping his hand out of Madison’s grasp. "Shut up, Madison. Not another word."

He climbed into the black obsidian SUV as the first crack of thunder split the sky. The heavens opened, a torrential deluge turning the Silver Ridge into a swamp of gray mud. Madison, locked out of the passenger side, pounded on the glass, her expensive fur coat soaking through in seconds.

"Hudson! Let me in!"

Harper stood under the hotel awning, arms crossed, a savage smirk on her face. "Looks like the Alpha’s bored of his toy."

"You!" Madison screamed, turning on Harper. "You’ll pay for this! I’ll have your rank stripped!"

"Save it for the Council, you mangy cur," Harper shouted over the rain. "Hudson, be a man for once! Don't let a lying mistress rot your brain. Think about your mate!"

The SUV’s engine roared, a predatory growl that drowned out the storm, and Hudson tore away, leaving Madison screaming in the mud.

The subway ride back to the Montgomery Estate was a blur of shivering limbs and wet wool. By the time Avery reached the heavy iron gates, she was caked in filth, her skin a ghostly shade of blue.

She pressed her thumb to the biometric scanner. Access Denied.

The red light blinked like a taunting eye. Hudson had revoked her clearance.

She stood at the gate, the rain lashing against her. Thunder boomed, a sound that usually sent her scurrying under the furs in the master suite. Tonight, there was no cover.

Inside the dark study, Hudson sat by the window. He watched the grainy black-and-white feed from the gate cameras. Avery was a small, crumpled shape in the storm.

"Sir..." Preston Hale, the head butler, stepped into the shadows. "The storm is worsening. The temperature is dropping below freezing. Your mate..."

"She’s fine," Hudson growled, his eyes fixed on the screen. "She needs to learn that her actions have consequences. Who was she with at the hotel?"

He pulled up the hotel's internal feed. He watched the footage of the book delivery. He saw the crate of magazines. He saw the exact moment Madison had intercepted her. He watched without sound as Madison’s mouth moved with venom, and then saw Harper’s intervention.

Avery hadn't raised a hand. She had just taken it.

Hudson’s jaw creaked. "How long has she been out there?"

"Over an hour, Alpha," Preston whispered.

A lightning strike hit a nearby pine, the crack deafening. Hudson was on his feet before the sound died. He sprinted down the stairs, throwing the front doors open.

The driveway was a river. Avery was face down in the mud, her raincoat tangled around her legs. She wasn't moving.

"Avery!"

He scooped her up. She was terrifyingly light, her skin like ice against his heated palms. Her heart was a frantic, dying flutter.

"Get Dr. Mercer! Now!"

He carried her into the hall, ripping the wet fabric from her body with trembling hands. He wrapped her in a thick wool throw, his pulse thundering in his ears as he felt the sharpness of her ribs. When had she become so thin?

"What the hell did you do, Hudson? Run out of meat and start feeding on your wife?"

Dr. Ryan Mercer didn't wait for an invite. He burst through the door, soaking wet and smelling of medicinal herbs. He pushed Hudson aside, his hands moving over Avery’s frigid skin.

"Save the commentary and fix her!" Hudson barked, pacing the room like a caged beast.

"Another ten minutes and you’d be looking for a new Luna to sign your contracts," Mercer snapped, his voice jagged with anger. "She’s got stage-one hypothermia and a fever that’s going to melt her brain. What’s the matter, Hudson? Looking for a tragic accident to clear the way for Madison?"

"Shut your mouth before I tear it out!"

Mercer didn't flinch. He injected a stimulant into Avery’s arm and piled more heated stones around her. "She’s stable. For now. But if she stays in this house with the stress you’re putting on her, the fever won't be what kills her."

Hudson stayed by her side all night. He watched the flush of the fever creep up her neck. By morning, she was awake, her eyes wide and glassy as she saw him sitting in the armchair.

"You’re staying home," Hudson said, his voice raw. "No more archives. No more deliveries. You’ll stay within the territory borders where I can see you."

Avery sat up, her hands moving in a frantic, desperate blur. I love my work. It’s all I have.

"I’ll buy you a library," Hudson snapped, standing up. "I’ll build you a tower of books. But you’re staying away from that Harper female. She’s a bad influence. She makes you bold."

Avery felt the familiar suffocating weight of his control. She lunged forward, grabbing his sleeve, her eyes screaming the words her throat couldn't form.

Suddenly, her stomach lurched. The smell of Hudson’s cedar-scented soap, usually comforting, hit her like a physical blow. She doubled over, retching violently into the basin by the bed.

Hudson’s hand hovered over her back, his expression shifting from anger to a sharp, sudden suspicion.

"Avery," he whispered, his voice dangerously low. "We were 'careless' two nights ago. But the symptoms don't start that fast."

Avery froze. She looked at the door where Dr. Mercer had left the folder. If Hudson knew she was already pregnant—and that it wasn't his—the "Mate-Contract" wouldn't just be void. It would be a death warrant.

"Unless," Hudson’s eyes narrowed, the Alpha's intuition flaring, "you’ve been keeping secrets from me long before the hotel."

The door to the bedroom creaked open. Victoria Montgomery stood there, her eyes landing on Avery’s heaving form with the cold precision of a butcher.

"Is she ill, Hudson? Or is she finally showing her true, tainted colors?"