I’m not interested in explanations, Ms. Sinclair.

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• Contract Marriage To The Alpha King     Gold-digging little....

  Damian's POV The wolf snarled, baring its teeth in my chest, its rage mirroring my own. She’s mocking you, Alpha. You trusted her, and she’s mocking you. She’s spitting on your claim. She’s laughing at your authority. My thoughts spiraled rapidly now, far too fast to control, dissolving into a chaotic maelstrom of suspicion and fury. Each possibility fueled the inferno. Did she go back to the hospital? To Eli? Maybe. That would make sense. Her brother was still in critical condition, after all, his life teetering on the brink. That was the reason she signed the contract, the reason she endured. But why wouldn’t she say anything? Why wouldn’t she tell me, her supposed mate, her financial benefactor? Why vanish like a thief in the night? And then another, darker, more insidious thought slithered into my mind, cold and venomous, poisoning every rational explanation. Or maybe… She’s not at the hospital. Maybe she’s with someone else. My hands tightened around the elegant edge of t

• Contract Marriage To The Alpha King    Midnight Fury

  Damian's POV It was the sound of silence that woke me. Not a gentle awakening, but a jarring jolt to my senses, a primal alarm blaring in the depths of my subconscious. I didn’t know what time it was — just that it was deeply, unnervingly dark, and the opulent bedroom, usually filled with the subtle hum of the house, was unnervingly quiet, save for the faint, monotonous ticking of the antique clock on the bedside table. My eyes cracked open reluctantly, adjusting to the oppressive shadows cast by the moonlight that spilled through the sheer, whisper-thin curtains, painting the floor in shades of ghostly silver. Something felt… wrong. Deeply, fundamentally wrong. A visceral unease settled in my gut, sharper than any business deal gone sour. My hand, acting on an instinct I hadn’t known I possessed, instinctively reached toward the other side of the vast, emperor-sized bed — the side where she was supposed to be, where her presence had been a cool, almost distant weight just hours b

• Contract Marriage To The Alpha King    You’re smart not to answer!

  Ava's POV But I could feel it. Feel the searing weight of his eyes on me, cold and unyielding, as though he could peel back my skin, see every frantic beat of my heart, every single crack in my brittle armor. He was dissecting me, piece by agonizing piece. “You’re already shaking,” he murmured, his voice closer now, dangerously close. He had taken another silent step towards me. “I can hear your heartbeat from here, Ava. A frantic little flutter. You think I’m going to hurt you?” I didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Any sound would betray the terror that choked me. That amused him even more. A low, pleased hum resonated in his chest. “You’re smart not to answer,” he said flatly, stripping the shirt off completely and tossing it carelessly onto the floor beside the bed, a stark white pool against the dark carpet. His chest was broad, powerful, corded with lean muscle, his skin faintly marked with old scars—faint, silvery lines, relics of past battles. His wolf prowled just beneath th

• Contract Marriage To The Alpha King     I didn’t dare move, didn't breathe.

  Ava's POV The soft, decisive click of the door was the only warning. I froze, every muscle in my body locking into a rigid tableau of fear. The faint sound of the lock turning was louder than the frantic blood rushing in my ears, louder than the pounding of my own terrified heart. My hands, which had just finished desperately wiping the last stubborn tears from my cheeks, fell uselessly into my lap, trembling uncontrollably. He was here. Damian Blackwood. My mate. My captor. I didn’t dare move, didn't breathe. My gaze was fixed on the intricate pattern of the carpet, hoping that if I remained perfectly still, perfectly silent, he might somehow overlook me. A foolish, child-like hope. The door opened slowly, deliberately, a dark rectangle widening into the brightly lit room, and he stepped inside, filling the doorway, his silhouette imposing and vast. He didn’t say a word. He rarely did, not when silence could be used as a weapon, as a means of intimidation. His dark

• Contract Marriage To The Alpha King    The Echo of the Mark

  Ava's POV The moment the grand, imposing doors of the ceremonial hall closed behind me, the last vestige of the public charade, the carefully constructed performance, evaporated. The opulent applause, the murmur of the crowd, the High Elder’s booming pronouncements—all were abruptly silenced, replaced by a roaring quiet that pressed in on me, deafening in its intensity. It felt like being plunged into the depths of a still, cold ocean. My heels clicked faintly against the polished marble as I walked down the long, empty corridor, the sound unnaturally loud in the oppressive silence. Each click echoed the finality of the ceremony, a morbid count of my dwindling freedom. Not even Bia was allowed to follow. Not tonight. Damian’s explicit instructions had been relayed by a stony-faced Jackson: "Ms. Sinclair will require privacy after the ceremony." Privacy. A cruel joke. Tonight, I was truly alone. Alone and… his. Damian Blackwood’s. The words echoed in my mind, a cold, sickening ma

• Contract Marriage To The Alpha King    This is the last moment you’ll ever be truly free, Ava.

  Damian's POV Time slowed. The opulent hall, the expectant faces, the very air seemed to stretch, to distill into this single, agonizing moment. She wore the gown I’d chosen. The pale cream silk flowed around her like a luminous mist, the pearl sleeves shimmering softly, the elegant neckline framing her delicate collarbones. Her hair was swept up, a cascade of loose, soft curls escaping around her face, softening its sharp angles, her skin glowing like she’d stepped directly out of moonlight, fragile and ethereal. But her eyes— Her eyes were empty. Devastatingly so. Stripped bare of all emotion, all life. They were wide, distant, reflecting nothing of the joyous occasion this should have been. She walked toward me, toward the altar, with a slow, measured pace, her movements stiff, almost mechanical. She looked like she was headed to her execution, not her own mate ceremony. There was no defiance in her tonight, no spark of the fire I had glimpsed beneath her exhaustion. No fire