Sable's POV
The needle slips from my brother's arm again, and this time, the nurse doesn't even try to be gentle when she stabs it back in.
"Please," I whisper, gripping Finn's cold hand. "Please be careful."
The nurse ignores me. Why wouldn't she? We're charity cases in the free clinic, and charity doesn't get kindness. Finn's eyes flutter open—those bright green eyes that used to sparkle with mischief now dulled by pain.
"Sable..." His voice cracks. "Go home. You have work."
"I'm not leaving you." I force a smile even though my heart is breaking. The doctor's words from this morning loop in my head like a nightmare: Three months. Maybe less. Unless you find two million dollars for the experimental treatment.
Two million dollars. I make nine dollars an hour washing dishes at the diner. I'd need to work for two hundred years.
Finn coughs, and blood specks his lips. I grab tissues, wipe his mouth, pretend I don't see more blood than yesterday. He's twenty years old. He's supposed to be in college, chasing girls, living. Not dying in a clinic that smells like bleach and broken dreams.
"Miss Morven?" A woman's voice cuts through my panic.
I turn. A woman in an expensive black suit stands in the doorway. She doesn't belong here among the broken chairs and peeling paint. Everything about her screams money—from her perfect hair to her leather briefcase.
"Yes?" My voice shakes.
"My name is Victoria Cross. I represent Corvinus Pharmaceuticals." She hands me a business card that probably costs more than my rent. "We've been following your brother's case. We'd like to help."
My heart stops. Starts. Stops again. "Help how?"
"Mr. Corvinus would like to meet with you. Today. Now, if possible." Her smile doesn't reach her eyes. "He has a... proposition."
I look at Finn. He's fallen back asleep, his chest rising and falling too fast. The monitor beeps his failing heartbeat.
"What kind of proposition?" Suspicion wars with desperate hope.
"The kind that saves your brother's life." Victoria checks her watch. "The car is waiting outside. You have five minutes to decide."
The building reaches so high into the sky I can't see the top. Corvinus Pharmaceuticals—the name is carved in silver letters over glass doors that probably cost more than my entire life. My reflection stares back at me: cheap dress from the thrift store, scuffed shoes, hair I tried to make neat but gave up halfway.
I don't belong here.
But Finn needs me to walk through these doors anyway.
The lobby is all marble and cold air. My shoes squeak on the polished floor. Everyone in expensive suits turns to stare at me—the poor girl who wandered into the palace. Shame burns my cheeks, but I lift my chin. I'm here for Finn. Nothing else matters.
Victoria leads me to an elevator with mirrors on every wall. I can't escape my own reflection—pale skin, silver eyes too big for my thin face, the desperation I can't quite hide.
"Mr. Corvinus is a very busy man," Victoria says as the elevator climbs. "Be grateful he's making time for you."
Grateful. The word tastes bitter. Rich people always want gratitude for crumbs.
The elevator opens directly into an office that makes my brain hurt. Floor-to-ceiling windows show the entire city spread below like a map. The desk is bigger than my apartment. And behind it—
My breath catches.
He's the most beautiful man I've ever seen. And the most terrifying.
Dark hair. Sharp jaw. Eyes the color of storm clouds that look at me like I'm an insect under glass. He's maybe twenty-eight, built like he could break me in half without trying. Power radiates from him like heat—the kind of power that crushes people and doesn't look back.
"Miss Morven." His voice is ice and honey. "Sit."
I sit in the chair across from his massive desk. It's too big, makes me feel like a child called to the principal's office. Maybe that's the point.
A man in a gray suit appears from nowhere, dropping a thick folder on the desk. "The contract, Mr. Corvinus."
Thorne Corvinus doesn't open it. Those gray eyes stay locked on me, studying, weighing, judging. I force myself not to squirm.
"Your brother has leukemia," he says. Not a question. "Stage four. Aggressive. The free clinic gives him three months."
"Yes." My throat is sand.
"We have an experimental treatment. Gene therapy combined with supernatural healing methods. Ninety-seven percent success rate." He leans back in his chair. "Cost is two point three million dollars."
Hope explodes in my chest, so bright it hurts. "I—I can pay you back. I'll work forever. I'll—"
"I don't want your money, Miss Morven." His lips curve into something that's not quite a smile. "I want something else."
The room suddenly feels colder. "What?"
"You're a wolf shifter. Omega. From the destroyed Morven pack." He says it like reading a grocery list. "Low ranking, but pure bloodline. Healthy. Young."
"How do you know—"
"I know everything." He cuts me off. "You're unmated. Virgin." My face burns at that word from his mouth. "Perfect genetics for breeding purposes."
Breeding. Purposes.
The words don't make sense in my brain. "I don't understand."
"I need an heir." Thorne pushes the folder toward me. "The Pack Council requires I produce an alpha son within two years or I lose my position. My chosen partner can't conceive. You can."
My hands shake as I open the folder. Legal words swim before my eyes. Marriage contract. Pregnancy clause. Submission requirements. Three-year term.
"You want to marry me?" I whisper.
"I want to use your womb." His bluntness is a slap. "This is a business arrangement. You carry my child. Give birth. In exchange, your brother receives full treatment, ongoing care, everything he needs to live."
"And after? After I give birth?"
"You'll remain in my household. Raise the child under my direction. If additional heirs are required, you'll provide them."
Additional heirs. Like I'm livestock. Like I'm nothing.
"You're insane." I stand up. My legs shake but I stay upright. "I won't—"
"Your brother has three months." Thorne's voice doesn't rise. It doesn't need to. "I can have treatment started within twenty-four hours of you signing. Or you can walk away, and I'll forget you exist. His funeral will be nice, I'm sure."
The cruelty of it steals my breath. He's not even pretending to be kind. This is a transaction. My body for Finn's life.
"There has to be another way," I beg. "Please. I'll do anything else. Clean your buildings, work in your labs, anything—"
"I don't need a janitor." He stands, walks around the desk. Up close, he's even more terrifying—tall, powerful, smelling like expensive cologne and danger. "I need a womb. Yours fits my requirements. This is a generous offer, Miss Morven. Most omegas would beg for the privilege."
Pride burns in my throat. "I'm not most omegas."
"No." His gray eyes rake over me, clinical and cold. "You're a desperate girl with a dying brother and no options. So stop pretending you have power here and sign."
He's right. God, he's right. I have nothing. No money, no pack, no family except Finn. And Finn is dying.
My hands shake as I pick up the pen. The contract blurs through my tears. I'm signing my life away. Becoming property. A breeding animal for this monster in an expensive suit.
But Finn will live. Finn will go to college. Finn will have the future I'm selling myself to buy.
"Excellent decision." Thorne watches me sign page after page. "The lawyer will witness. We'll schedule the wedding for next week."
"Wedding?" The pen nearly slips from my fingers.
"It needs to appear legitimate to the Pack Council. Don't worry—it won't be romantic." His smile is cruel. "I have no interest in pretending this is love."
The final page. My signature looks like a child's scrawl next to his bold, confident mark. It's done. I've sold myself.
"Your brother's treatment begins tonight," Thorne says, already turning back to his desk like I'm dismissed. "A car will collect you tomorrow at noon. Bring only what you need. Everything else will be provided."
I stand on numb legs, clutching my purse like a lifeline.
"Miss Morven." His voice stops me at the elevator. I turn. Those gray eyes pin me like a butterfly to cardboard. "One more thing you should know."
"What?" My voice barely works.
"I'm not a good man." His smile is all teeth and threat. "Don't expect kindness. Don't expect mercy. And whatever you do—" He pauses, and something flickers in those cold eyes. Something that makes my wolf whimper in warning. "Don't expect love. This is business. Remember that when you're screaming my name on our wedding night."
The elevator doors close on his predator smile.
I make it to the lobby before my knees give out. Victoria catches me, her grip surprisingly strong.
"Breathe," she orders. "You made the right choice."
Did I? I just promised my body, my future, my freedom to a monster. But Finn will live. That has to be enough.
My phone buzzes. A text from the hospital: Your brother is being moved to the private wing. Treatment starting immediately. Paid in full.
He's already keeping his word.
I'm shaking so hard I can barely stand. Victoria guides me to the car, talking about schedules and arrangements, but I can't hear her over the screaming in my head.
What have I done?
The car pulls away from the building. I watch it disappear in the side mirror—that tower of glass and money where I signed away my soul.
My phone buzzes again. Unknown number. I open it with trembling fingers.
A photo loads. My breath stops.
It's me. Walking into the building today. But the angle is wrong—taken from above, from security cameras I never saw. And written below in cold, precise letters:
I OWN YOU NOW. DON'T FORGET IT. - T
The phone slips from my hands.
He's been watching me the whole time.
And somewhere in that tower, Thorne Corvinus is smiling.