C4

My palms were slick with sweat as I pushed open the door to Kyle’s private study, my throat tight enough to choke me. The dark room smelled heavily of iron, pine, and Alpha authority. I guided my way toward the oak desk using the faint glow of my tracking mirror, my hands trembling as I pulled open the bottom drawer.

Right on top lay a thick parchment envelope stamped with a blood-red Salvatore wax seal and marked with the word Property.

My pulse raced. Why would an Alpha as sharp as Kyle leave a sacred territory deed in an unlocked drawer?

A sickening wave of realization hit my stomach a second too late. Before I could pull my hand back, a harsh click shattered the silence, and blinding torchlight filled the room.

"Looking for this, omega?"

Kyle’s cold, lethal voice echoed from the shadows. The shock made my fingers give out, and the envelope slipped from my hands, hitting the floorboards with a dull thud. It popped open—completely empty.

Kyle stepped into the torchlight, his broad frame filling the doorway. In his right hand, he held an identical parchment envelope, sealed tight with fresh wax. His dark skin looked terrifying under the golden light, his scarred face twisted into a deadly smirk. He reached up with one thick finger, slowly loosening his perfectly knotted tie. One. Inch.

"Your father sent you to steal my bloodline secrets, didn't he?" Kyle growled, his golden wolf eyes flashing with rising anger.

My breath caught in my dry throat. He set a trap. He knew Miles Connor called me, and he waited here in the dark just to catch me in the act.

Kyle closed the distance between us in a single silent stride, his heavy aura slamming into me like a physical wall. "You have more nerve than I thought for a voiceless omega."

I forced myself to stand still, my heart hammering against my ribs so hard it burned. I had no voice to defend myself, no power to fight an Alpha, and no choice if I wanted to keep Dr. Serena Kogan alive. Explaining my father's blackmail would only sound like a pathetic lie to a man like him.

"You are my legal mate under pack law," Kyle purred, his voice dropping into a dark, possessive rumble as he leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. "And you just committed treason against the Salvatore Crimson Dominion. If I summon the Pack Elders right now, they will strip your skin and throw you into the rogue execution pits for the rest of your short life."

He pulled out his communication stone, the glowing rune for the Elder Council pulsing red under his thumb.

All the blood drained from my face. My knees shook violently. If I was thrown into the pits, who would pay for Grandma's spirit-herbs? She would die in that cold lodge alone.

"Terrified now, little bird?" Kyle sneered, his dark eyes scanning my pale face and trembling lips.

I clamped my mouth shut, tears of raw humiliation burning behind my eyes.

"Do you want me to spare your miserable life?" Kyle asked, his thick hand reaching out to wrap around the back of my neck, pulling my frail body flush against his hard, warm chest. "You obey your father so well. You do every dirty trick he commands. But since you belong to my bloodline now, strip off those clothes and plead for my mercy on your knees. Maybe if you satisfy your Alpha, I won't execute you by dawn."

The crude demand sliced through me like an iron blade. My body felt weak and small against his massive muscle, but I had no ground to stand on. I forced my eyes shut, holding back the burning tears, and reached for the hem of my tunic with shaking hands.

I slowly unbuttoned the top of my collar, exposing my pale throat and the heat rising from my skin.

Kyle stood stock-still, his dark eyes turning stormy as he watched me obey without a single fight. He expected me to cry or cringe, but my quiet submission only seemed to inflame the dark, volatile aura surrounding his wolf.

My fingers reached for the clasp of my shift, exposing the soft curve of my chest to the cool air. The mate bond snapped tight between us, thick with instant, suffocating heat. My core throbbed with a sudden, humiliating wave of wetness as his heavy Alpha scent filled my lungs.

Before I could pull the fabric down, the communication stone on his belt pulsed with a sharp tone. Miles Dyson’s voice broke through the silence.

"My Lord, it's done. Miles Connor just moved his scouts into the eastern border trap. He fell for the false trade documents."

"Good," Kyle grunted, cutting the link instantly.

He looked down at me, taking in my thin, trembling frame, my reddened eyes, and the sheer, silent despair radiating from my skin. The heavy, dark lust in his eyes suddenly vanished, replaced by a cold flick of annoyance. He shoved my hands away from my collar and turned his back on me.

"Put your clothes on," Kyle snapped, his voice rough and laced with disgust. "Your pathetic face is ruining my mood. Get out of my study."

My breath hitched in my dry throat. He's... letting me go?

I didn't wait for him to change his mind a second time. I yanked my tunic back over my shoulders, pulling the buttons tight with frozen fingers, and bolted out the door into the dark corridor.

I scrambled back into my bedchamber, locking the heavy oak door behind me and pressing my back against the wood. My heart beat wildly against my ribs as I slid down to the floor, pulling my knees up to my chest in the cold, dark room.

I waited in terrified silence as the grandfather clock in the hall struck midnight. Every tiny creak of the floorboards made my soul jump, fearing Kyle would march down the hallway to finish what he started. But as the hours dragged on into the dead of night, the manor remained dead silent.

Just as my eyes began to grow heavy from pure exhaustion, a soft, deliberate tapping sounded directly against my second-story window glass.

I froze, my blood running ice-cold. I crept toward the glass and looked out into the moonlight.

Standing on the roof ledge outside was a masked wolf enforcer dressed in the midnight-black leather of the Silvermoon Rogues. He held a small, blood-stained dagger in one hand, and pinned under the blade was a fresh parchment note addressed directly to me in my father's handwriting:

The fake documents got my scouts slaughtered. Kyle Salvatore knows everything. You have until dawn to poison his night-ale, or Serena's head arrives at your doorstep tomorrow.