The morning Alpha Thornwood Sr. died, the sky wept.
Sera was scrubbing the kitchen floors when she felt it. A strange ripple through the pack bond, like a stone dropped into still water. She didn't have a wolf, couldn't access the communal connection that tied all pack members together, but she felt the echo of it. The collective grief that shuddered through Silvercrest like a physical thing.
Margaret dropped the pot she was holding. The clatter of metal against tile was followed by a sound Sera had never heard from the older woman: a low, keening wail that came from somewhere deep and primal.
"He's gone," Margaret gasped, her hands pressed to her chest. "The Alpha. He's gone."
Sera's stomach dropped. She'd known it was coming. They all had. But knowing and experiencing were two different things. Alpha Thornwood Sr. had been a constant fixture of her life, even from her position at the bottom of the pack hierarchy. He'd been fair. Kind, in his own stern way. And he'd been the only reason Kael hadn't rejected her outright two months ago.
Two months. That's all the dying Alpha had gotten. Not the three he'd hoped for.
The funeral was held three days later under skies that refused to clear. Sera stood at the very back of the assembled pack, rain soaking through her thin black dress while higher-ranking wolves huddled under enchanted umbrellas that repelled the weather. The separation was absolute. Even in grief, the hierarchy held.
Kael stood at the front, his face carved from stone as he delivered the eulogy. His voice never wavered, never broke, even as he spoke about his father's legacy and leadership. But Sera could feel him through the bond. That thread connecting them had grown stronger over the past two months, whether she wanted it to or not, and right now it was screaming with suppressed emotion.
He was shattering inside while maintaining a perfect facade outside.
After the ceremony, pack members filed past Kael to offer condolences. Sera watched from her distant position as he accepted each one with the same controlled nod, the same measured words. The perfect Alpha. Untouchable. Unmoved.
She turned to leave before the crowds dispersed. She had no business approaching him, no right to offer comfort he wouldn't want from her anyway. But she'd barely made it five steps when a hand caught her elbow.
Beta Garrett, Kael's second-in-command, looked down at her with an expression that wasn't quite hostile but nowhere near friendly. "Alpha wants to see you. Tonight. His study. Eight o'clock sharp."
Sera's mouth went dry. "Why?"
"Does it matter?" Garrett released her arm. "Don't be late. He's not in a patient mood."
The Beta walked away, leaving Sera standing in the rain with dread pooling in her stomach. This was it. The old Alpha was gone, and Kael's promise had died with him. Tonight he would formally reject her, sever the bond, and free himself from the burden of a wolfless mate.
She should feel relieved. This limbo of the past two months, feeling him through the bond but having zero contact, zero acknowledgment, had been its own special torture. At least rejection would be final.
So why did the thought make her want to curl up and disappear?
The rest of the day crawled by with agonizing slowness. Sera went through her duties mechanically, her mind spinning with what might happen tonight. Would the rejection hurt as badly as the stories claimed? Would she survive it? Some wolves didn't. The severed bond could send the rejected party into a spiral of depression and physical illness that never fully healed.
But those stories were about wolves with actual wolves. Maybe it would be different for her. Maybe she'd feel nothing at all.
The thought was somehow worse than imagining the pain.
At seven-thirty, Sera changed out of her servant's uniform into the only decent dress she owned, a simple gray thing that had seen better days. She braided her damp hair, stared at her reflection in the cracked mirror, and tried to prepare herself for what was coming.
By the time she reached Kael's study at exactly eight o'clock, her hands were shaking.
She knocked twice. "Come in," his voice called from inside.
The study was exactly what she'd expected: all dark wood and leather, walls lined with books, a massive desk dominating the space. Kael sat behind it, still wearing his funeral suit, though he'd loosened the tie. He looked exhausted. The kind of bone-deep weariness that came from holding yourself together through sheer willpower alone.
"Close the door," he said without looking up from whatever document he was reading. "And sit."
Sera did as instructed, perching on the edge of one of the chairs facing his desk. The bond hummed between them, closer now than they'd been since that night in the garden. She could feel his grief more acutely here, a heavy weight pressing against her chest.
Kael set down the paper and finally met her eyes. "My father is dead."
"I'm sorry for your loss," she said quietly.
"Are you?" His tone was sharp. "Or are you relieved that the promise keeping us tied together died with him?"
The accusation stung because part of it was true. But only part. "I never wanted to be a burden to you."
"And yet here we are." He leaned back in his chair, studying her with an intensity that made her want to squirm. "I've spent the last three days considering my options. My father is gone. My promise to him is technically fulfilled, since I didn't reject you while he was alive."
Sera's heart hammered against her ribs. This was it.
"I could reject you now," Kael continued, his voice clinical. "Sever the bond. Free us both from this... situation. It would be logical. Practical. Expected, even."
"But?"
His jaw tightened. "But my father's last words to me weren't about pack business or leadership philosophy. They were about you. About honoring the mate bond. About not making the same mistakes he did."
Sera blinked, surprised. "What mistakes?"
"That's not your concern." Kael opened a drawer and pulled out a thick document, setting it on the desk between them. "Here's what's going to happen. I'm proposing a contract marriage. Three years. You'll become my wife in name and title. We'll maintain the appearance of a mated pair for the pack's sake. And you'll give me an heir."
The words hit her like a series of punches. "What?"
"An heir," he repeated, as if discussing the weather. "A child. Preferably within the first year. Once you've produced a healthy pup and the three years are complete, we'll divorce quietly. You'll be well compensated. Set for life, actually. And then we'll both be free to move on."
Sera stared at him, trying to process what he was saying. "You want me to have your child and then just... leave?"
"That's the agreement, yes."
"This is insane." She shook her head, standing up. "You can't be serious."
"Sit. Down." The Alpha command in his voice was impossible to resist. Sera found herself back in the chair before she could think about refusing. Kael's eyes flashed with something that might have been regret, but it was gone too quickly to be sure. "I'm trying to find a solution that works for both of us. The pack expects me to have a mate. My father's dying wish was for me to honor the bond. This satisfies both requirements."
"By turning me into a brood mare with an expiration date?"
"By giving you protection, status, and financial security you'll never have otherwise," he countered. "You're a wolfless servant in your own family's home. You have nothing. No prospects, no future, no options. This arrangement gives you everything."
The brutal honesty of it cut deep because he wasn't wrong. What did she have? What could she possibly hope for? Her family had made it clear she was an embarrassment. No wolf would willingly choose to mate with her. Her existence was confined to scrubbing floors and staying invisible.
"Let me be very clear," Kael continued, his voice dropping lower. "I don't want this. I don't want you. The Moon Goddess made a mistake, and we're both paying for it. But I won't dishonor my father's memory by rejecting you immediately after his death. This contract is a compromise. A way to satisfy duty while maintaining honesty about what this is and isn't."
"And what is it?" Sera asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
"A business arrangement. Nothing more."
She looked down at the contract on the desk. The document was professionally prepared, the language formal and binding. He'd clearly had his lawyers draw this up in the three days since his father died. While grieving, while taking over as Alpha, he'd made time to trap her in a loveless arrangement.
"What if I say no?"
Kael's expression didn't change. "Then I'll reject you. Right here, right now. The bond will break, you'll likely spend weeks recovering from rejection sickness, and then you'll return to your servant duties. Your family will be furious that you embarrassed them by refusing an Alpha's offer. Your life will be exponentially worse than it already is."
"That's not a choice. That's a threat."
"That's reality." He pushed the contract across the desk toward her. "Read it. Take tonight to consider. But I need an answer by morning."
Sera's hands trembled as she picked up the document. The terms were laid out in cold, clinical language. Marriage within the week. Cohabitation in the Alpha's residence. Public appearances as a unified mated pair. Conception attempts to begin immediately. Financial provisions for her upon divorce. Custody arrangements for any children produced, heavily favoring him.
"You'd take the child," she said, her throat tight.
"An Alpha heir needs to be raised in the pack. You're wolfless. The child will be better off with me."
The casual cruelty of it made her feel physically ill. He was asking her to grow a life inside her body, birth it, presumably care for it for three years, and then just hand it over like a completed transaction.
"I need to think about this," she said.
"You have until morning." Kael stood, signaling the meeting was over. "One more thing. If you agree to this, there will be rules. Boundaries. Don't mistake this contract for a real marriage. You'll be my wife on paper and for pack appearances. But privately, we'll maintain separate lives. Separate bedrooms after conception occurs. Minimal interaction beyond what's required. You're a duty I'm fulfilling, nothing more. I won't pretend otherwise."
Sera stood on shaking legs, clutching the contract to her chest. "You really hate me that much?"
For the first time, something flickered across his controlled expression. "I don't hate you."
"Could've fooled me."
"I hate what you represent," he clarified, his voice softening just slightly. "I waited twenty-six years for my mate. Twenty-six years imagining who she'd be, what we'd build together. And instead I got someone who can't even shift. Someone who makes me look weak just by existing at my side."
The honesty was somehow worse than insults would have been. At least anger she could fight against. This cold assessment of her inadequacy was just... true. Undeniable. She did make him look weak. Her existence as his mate was an embarrassment.
"I'll give you my answer in the morning," she managed, heading toward the door.
"Sera."
She stopped but didn't turn around.
"My father believed the Moon Goddess doesn't make mistakes. That even bonds we don't understand have purpose." He paused. "I wish I had his faith."
She left without responding, clutching the contract that would determine the rest of her life. Outside the study, she finally let herself breathe, leaning against the wall as her legs threatened to give out.
A loveless marriage. A child she'd have to surrender. Three years of pretending before being cast aside.
Or rejection. Pain. And a return to the nothing she'd always been.
Some choice.
Sera looked down at the contract in her hands and wondered if the Moon Goddess was laughing at the cosmic joke she'd made of both their lives. A powerful Alpha who wanted nothing to do with his fated mate. A wolfless girl who'd finally found hers, only to discover he wished she didn't exist.
Three years. She could survive three years of anything, couldn't she? She'd survived six years as a servant in her own home. Six years of humiliation and shame and being treated like she was less than nothing.
At least this arrangement came with an end date. And maybe, just maybe, a child. Someone who would be hers, even if only for a little while. Someone who might actually love her.
It was more than she had now.
By the time Sera reached her tiny room, she'd already made her decision. Not because she wanted this. Not because she had any illusions about what this marriage would be.
But because the alternative was worse.
And because somewhere deep in her battered heart, a tiny voice whispered that three years with her mate, even a mate who didn't want her, might be better than a lifetime without him.
Even if that made her the biggest fool alive.