The Seattle rain wasn't merely falling; it was an angry, relentless assault, mirroring the storm brewing inside Ava. Six months. Six months since she'd been cast out from the Silver-Moon territory, a rogue with nothing but the clothes on her back and a burgeoning secret nestled deep within her womb. Now, she was back, not for forgiveness, but for survival, and a revenge that simmered just beneath her carefully constructed facade.
The wrought-iron gates of the Blackwood Estate loomed, a forbidding silhouette against the bruised sky. This wasn't just any pack territory; it was the stronghold of Alpha Silas Blackwood, the most dominant, merciless Alpha in the Pacific Northwest. Legend said he could sniff out a lie like a bloodhound on a fresh trail, a thought that sent a shiver down Ava's spine, a shiver that had nothing to do with the biting cold. Her hand instinctively drifted to her belly, a protective gesture over the life growing within her – a life whose existence could either be her salvation or her ultimate damnation.
A hulking guard, his eyes glowing an unnatural amber in the dim light, stepped forward, blocking her path. "State your business, rogue. This is Alpha territory." His voice was a low growl, laced with suspicion and the innate disdain wolves held for those without a pack.
"I have business with Alpha Silas Blackwood," Ava stated, her voice surprisingly steady despite the tremor in her hands. "A… proposition he won't want to refuse."
The guard's sneer deepened, but a glint of something akin to curiosity flickered in his eyes. Few dared to demand an audience with their Alpha. After a moment's pause, he grunted, disappearing into the shadows of the mansion's entrance.
The wait was agonizing. Each raindrop felt like a tiny hammer blow against her fragile resolve. When the doors finally swung open, revealing a cavernous hall bathed in the glow of a roaring fire, Ava took a deep breath. This was it. No turning back.
Silas Blackwood's study was a monument to power. Dark mahogany, shelves overflowing with ancient tomes, and a scent of old leather and something primal, something distinctly Alpha. He sat behind an imposing desk, his silhouette framed by the large window overlooking the stormy landscape. He was every bit the monster legend painted him to be: broad-shouldered, with eyes the color of a winter storm – grey, cold, and utterly unreadable. A faint scar traced the line of his jaw, adding to his formidable aura.
He didn't invite her to sit. He merely watched her, a predator assessing its prey. The silence stretched, thick and suffocating, until Ava felt a prickle of sweat form on her brow.
"You have five minutes, Ava. State your proposal," his voice finally cut through the air, a low, dangerous rumble that vibrated through the floorboards and deep into her bones. There was no warmth, no recognition, just raw authority.
Ava straightened her shoulders, forcing herself to meet his piercing gaze. "I understand you need a Luna, Alpha. Someone to stand by your side during the upcoming council vote, to secure your position against the encroaching territories." She paused, watching for any flicker of reaction. There was none. "I also understand you need… a distraction. Someone to quell the rumors about your inability to find a mate."
A muscle twitched in Silas's jaw. He finally leaned back, a subtle shift that somehow made him seem even more imposing. "And what makes you, a rogue, believe you can fill such a role? Your scent carries the mark of betrayal, Ava. And something else… something I can't quite place." His eyes narrowed, and Ava's heart slammed against her ribs. He was sensing it. The faint, sweet scent of a new life.
She took a desperate plunge. "Because, Alpha, I offer you a contract. A year. I will be your Luna, your dutiful partner in public. I will charm the elders, diffuse the rumors, and be everything you need to solidify your power." Her voice dropped, laden with a promise as dangerous as it was tempting. "And in return, you give me your protection, your resources… and your help to destroy the man who ruined me. The man who orchestrated my exile."
Silas's gaze bored into hers, searching, dissecting. He knew she held a secret, a vulnerability she hadn't revealed. But the offer was undeniably alluring. His eyes, sharp and calculating, drifted to a legal document lying on his desk – a pre-prepared contract for a strategic marriage, just waiting for the right candidate.
He stood then, slowly, deliberately, and walked around the desk, stopping just inches from her. His scent—sandalwood, damp earth, and an undercurrent of raw power—enveloped her, making her dizzy. Ava fought the urge to step back, to cower. This was her gamble.
"A year, you say?" Silas murmured, his voice closer now, a silken threat. He picked up the prepared contract, his gaze flicking between the document and her unwavering, desperate eyes. A chilling smile played on his lips. "Tell me, Ava, what else are you hiding? Because I have a feeling this contract… will bind us in more ways than one."