An Heir For The Comatose Alpha

Constance

"Move to the examination room and strip. Lie down on the bed and spread your legs," one of the doctors said in a flat, cold voice. "If you lied about being a virgin on the application form, you will be going home in a casket."

I was too stunned to even answer.

William Blackwood, the Alpha heir, was lying in a coma. His uncle, the acting regent, had decided the best solution to a dying bloodline was to round up every eligible woman in the territory and see which one was fit to carry it forward.

Every girl in the territory over eighteen and under thirty had gotten the same letter. Report for evaluation, or your family answers for it. My father did not even wait for the letter. He had already signed his name before it arrived.

He had sold me out for a territory contract, trading my life for debt relief without even lying to my face about it. I had overheard him on the phone an hour before I left the house. "She's young, clean, and quiet. Clear my ledger, and she's yours."

That was it. My whole life reduced to a line in his ledger.

I was not going to be a broodmare for a royal corpse. Elias was supposed to be my way out.

"Wait at the old water tower by 10:00 p.m.," he had whispered to me the day before, pressing a brass key into my palm outside the market. "My grandfather's cabin up north is off the grid. We cross the border and nobody follows us."

"Are you sure about this, Elias?" I had asked him, holding his eyes in the dim light of the alley. "If my father catches us…"

"He won't," Elias had said, kissing my forehead. "Trust me, Constance. I have everything ready. Just show up."

I believed him. That was my first mistake.

At 9:45 p.m., I pulled on my heavy boots, threw a dark coat over my shoulders, and slipped through the back door into the cold night air. The house stayed dead silent behind me. My father was already passed out in his chair, an empty glass on his knee, not even noticing I was gone.

I walked fast through the dark tree line, my boots clicking softly against the dirt path that led to the water tower.

The clearing was empty. No lights. No sound but the wind moving through the dead grass. I hugged my coat tighter and told myself he was just running late.

I stood under the old tower, checking my wrist. 10:12 p.m. No car. No Elias.

I pulled out my phone with shaking fingers and dialed his number. It rang four times, then went to voicemail. I called again. Nothing. My heart was hammering in my chest.

"Pick up, Elias," I whispered to the dark. "Don't do this to me."

My stomach dropped into a cold, hard knot. Had my father's guards caught him? Had someone seen us talking at the market? I could not just stand there in the open, waiting for the morning patrol to find me.

I turned and broke into a fast, frantic walk toward his apartment.

Ten minutes later, I was taking the stairs of his building two at a time, my lungs burning. When I reached the door to his flat, I reached for the handle and stopped. The latch had not caught. The door was open an inch.

I pushed it open with the toe of my boot and stepped inside.

A piece of red underwear lay on the floor by the umbrella stand.

My throat went dry. From the cracked bedroom door down the hall, I could hear two voices.

"Did she really think I was going to run away to some cabin with her?" Elias laughed, that light, careless laugh he used whenever he was lying his way out of trouble. "She called me three times while you were in the shower. She's out of her mind."

"Baby, you are so mean," a girl's voice said back.

"I'm being honest, Daphne. Once she's shipped off to the keep, her father's debts get cleared. Then I can finally take care of you the way I want to."

I did not freeze, and I did not cry. I pushed the bedroom door open until it hit the wall.

Elias was on the bed, shirtless, his hand resting high on a bare thigh. Daphne, my stepsister, was curled against his side, wearing the silver locket I had lent her for her school photo last summer.

Elias scrambled backward so fast his shoulder hit the headboard. "Constance! What the hell are you doing here?"

I stayed in the doorway, my hands shoved deep in my coat pockets so he would not see them shaking. "The water tower, Elias. Really?"

Daphne did not even look ashamed. She pulled the sheet up over her chest, a small, satisfied smile on her lips. "You should really learn to lock the front door, babe."

"You told me you had everything ready," I said, my voice flat. "While you were lying here with Daphne."

Elias swung his legs off the bed and pulled his jeans up, his face turning red. "Don't look at me like that. What did you expect? You never even let me touch you. You think a man is going to risk his neck for a girl who treats him like a roommate?"

"You're disgusting," I said.

"Face it, Constance, she's ten times the woman you'll ever be," Elias said, stepping toward me. He grabbed my arm, his grip rough and cold, and pulled me toward the door. "Get out of my apartment."

He shoved me into the hallway. I hit the wall hard enough to knock the air out of my chest. Then the deadbolt turned behind me.

I stood alone in the dark hallway, breathing hard, refusing to let either of them see me cry. I did not scream and I did not kick the door. I just turned around and walked down the stairs.

I walked back through the alleys and slipped through my bedroom window just as the sky was turning grey. I just sat on the edge of my bed with dry eyes, watching the clock tick toward morning, until the transport van finally came to take me to the Blackwood keep.

Which is how I ended up in this cold, concrete room, facing three men in white coats holding gloves and silver trays.

Nine other girls were lined up outside, waiting their turn, but I was the one standing under the fluorescent lights, listening to a death threat delivered like it was a normal medical instruction.

"I asked you a question, Number Seven," the doctor snapped, snapping a glove against his wrist. "Step up to the table and strip. Or should I call the guards?"

My stomach dropped straight to the floor. There was no clever speech to give. No way out. No Elias coming to run away with me. The guard by the door had his hand resting on his baton, waiting for a reason to use it.

I was scared, but more than that, I was just tired.

"Okay," I whispered, my voice cracking. "Give me a second."

My hands were shaking so hard I could barely undo the buttons on my coat. I let it fall to the cold floor. My dress went next, until I stood shivering in my underwear under the ceiling lights.

The room was freezing, but I forced my feet to move toward the steel table.

I climbed up, the cold metal biting into the back of my legs, and lay back against the paper lining.

The doctor did not even look at my face. He pulled a tray closer, the instruments clinking against the steel.

"Slide to the edge," he said, reaching for the tray. "And put your feet up."

I gripped the sides of the table until my knuckles turned white, staring at the ceiling, counting the ticks of the clock on the wall.

Welcome to the rest of your life, Constance.