C1

"Harper Calloway, get up!"

The roar echoed off the black stone walls of Ironwood Keep as a heavy boot slammed directly into my ribs. The force shoved my body across the ice-cold floor, my claws scraping uselessly against the flagstones. Blood tasted metallic and sharp on my tongue.

"You dare drag the Mercer name into the dirt?" Grayson Mercer stood over me, his face twisted in utter revulsion. He ripped the ceremonial silver lily off his chest—the symbol of our betrothal—and crushed it under his heel. "Cheating with human scum, then trying to push your own sister off the ramparts? You are a broken, fat, worthless excuse for an Alpha’s daughter!"

He didn't just walk away; he threw a stack of scent-marked photos directly onto my bleeding face. Images of me—my plus-size body exposed, framed in a trap I never set—scattered across the blood-stained stone.

"Grayson, wait!" Lorraine Mercer’s voice panicked from the hallway. "Drag him back! He can't break the pact publicly!"

Two Nightcrest Enforcers grabbed Grayson, but he shoved them back with a flash of his golden Beta eyes. "I would rather tear out my own throat than mate with a disgraced human-born lard-bucket like her!"

The heavy oak doors slammed shut. My chest heaved, my breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps. Unfamiliar memories surged through my brain like molten silver—flooding my mind until the sheer weight of two souls tore my consciousness apart.

I blacked out.

Stay alive, Commander!

Bring the unit home!

Avenge us!

My eyes snapped open.

I stared up at the clinical white ceiling of St. Catherine Royal Hospital. A single tear slipped down my cheek, burning hot against my pale skin. The Ironfang Front was gone. My command unit—slaughtered. I had drawn my own blade and pierced my heart on the battlefield to keep the Crimson Council from taking our secrets.

Yet here I was. Reborn into another Harper Calloway.

This body was soft, plus-sized, and carrying a weak human spark inside a pureblood werewolf lineage. But the memories were crystal clear now.

On her wedding night, original Harper had walked toward her mate, only for her half-sister, Mallory Callahan, to stage a fall down the stairs, scattering altered photos to ruin her. The rejection had crushed original Harper’s heart so violently that her weak human soul simply gave out.

I sat up slowly, feeling the heavy shift of my weight. I gripped my own wrists.

"I've got you," I whispered to the empty room. "I will tear them apart for what they did to you."

"Is the fat freak still breathing?"

A sharp voice cut through the silence outside my cracked door. I froze, my enhanced shifting ears picking up every word from the corridor.

"Two days out cold," a second nurse sneered. "Honestly, Master Grayson should have snapped her neck. Upstairs in the VIP suite, the whole Calloway Family is coddling Mallory. Grayson hasn't left her side."

"She’s ugly, she’s human-weak, and she’s vicious," the first nurse spat. "Why hasn't Alpha Malcolm stripped her name yet?"

I swung my legs over the bed. The cold floor bit into my bare feet. I didn't hide. I pulled open the door and stood directly in front of them, my blue hospital gown hanging off my curved shoulders, gauze wrapped tight around my skull.

The two nurses shrieked, jumping back as if a ghost had appeared.

"Get me makeup remover," I ordered. My voice was low, carrying the hard, lethal authority of a battlefield commander. "And bring me clean clothes. Now."

"Y-Yes, Miss Calloway!" the first nurse stammered, scrambling backward in sheer terror.

"And remember this," I added, my eyes narrowing into cold slits. "My mother left me twenty percent of Calloway Global Holdings in her blood-will. Even if Grayson Mercer rejects me, I hold the purse strings of the entire Nightcrest Pack."

The nurses turned dead white. Twenty percent of the Calloway territory shares was enough to buy and sell their entire bloodlines. They scurried off like terrified rodents.

Ten minutes later, I stood in front of the bathroom mirror, dragging a wet cotton pad across my skin.

Original Harper had been tricked by Tessa Calloway into painting her face in atrocious, neon drag to look like a clown, convincing her Grayson liked 'bold' women. As the thick paint dissolved, my true face emerged.

Full lips, high cheekbones, dark expressive eyes, and soft, beautiful curves that carried real power. We had the exact same face. The exact same name.

"Your storm is over, sweet girl," I whispered, tracing my reflection. "Mine is just beginning."

Outside in the hospital courtyard, thick glass windows separated the lower wards from the VIP gardens. I sat on a bench under the shade of a cypress tree, resting my sore body while waiting for the Blackridge clerk to deliver my paperwork.

"Are you completely out of your mind?!"

Lorraine Mercer’s voice echoed from behind a trimmed hedge nearby. She was pacing furiously, her silk shawl fluttering.

Grayson stood beside her in a tailored dark suit, his jaw tight. "Mother, lower your voice."

"Lower my voice? Do you have any idea what you just threw away?" Lorraine hissed. "Eleanor Calloway locked twenty percent of the territory shares to Harper's marriage certificate! If you don't mark her, those shares stay locked!"

Grayson’s face darkened with pure arrogance. "I will not tie my wolf to a human-born disgrace. She tried to murder Mallory!"

"You fool!" Lorraine slapped his arm. "You don't have to love her! You register the mate-bond legally at the Bureau, claim the twenty percent shares, and then lock her away in the pack cellar! With that stake, the Mercer Family can finally crush Whitmore Global Holdings and rule Ravenshade City!"

Grayson hesitated, his golden eyes flashing with greed. "She’s obsessed with me. If I give her a sliver of attention, she'll sign the shares over."

"Exactly," Lorraine smirked. "Coax the fat fool, take the shares, and then discard her."

They turned to walk back inside, entirely unaware that the heavy-set woman sitting quietly on the bench thirty feet away had heard every single word.

I didn't even blink. I picked up the official state registry file the nurse had just handed me.

"Miss Calloway," the nurse asked nervously. "Why do you need your blood-registry card?"

I looked down at the paper, a cold, ruthless smile touching my lips.

"To get married today."

At 5:00 PM, the Blackridge Investigation Bureau and Civil Registry was almost deserted.

I sat on a concrete wall outside the stone arches, watching the remaining crowd disperse. The blood-will left by my mother stated clearly: The twenty percent pack shares unlock immediately upon Harper Calloway’s legal marriage.

It didn't specify Grayson Mercer. It just specified a legal husband.

I had no intention of wasting time in this city. I needed an alliance, a signature, and legal immunity to begin stripping the Mercer and Calloway families of everything they owned. After that, I would pay off whoever signed the document and head straight back to the Ironfang Front to reclaim my true power.

By 5:50 PM, the final couples were leaving. The sun dipped below the jagged horizon of Hollowfang Woods, casting long, crimson shadows across the courtyard.

I let out a soft sigh, preparing to stand up and try again tomorrow.

Then, the heavy iron gates of the courtyard creaked open.

A tall, towering figure stepped through the dusk light.

He wore a custom black coat that barely concealed the massive width of his shoulders. His movement was deadly quiet—the predatory grace of a true Apex wolf. Silver hair caught the fading sunlight, framing a face carved from granite: sharp jawline, high cheekbones, and eyes the color of molten gold that burned right through the gloom.

A high-ranking Alpha. No, something far more dangerous.

The air around him compressed instantly, sending a wave of sheer, suffocating pressure crashing through the courtyard. My internal wolf—slumbering deep within my human-born chest—suddenly slammed against my ribs, roaring to life for the first time in this body’s existence.

Our eyes met across the empty stone plaza.

He stopped dead in his tracks. His nostrils flared once, catching my scent on the evening wind.

I didn't cringe. I didn't cower. I stood my ground, my blue eyes locking onto his without a single flinch.

Asher Whitmore—the shadowy leader of Whitmore Global Holdings and the most feared Alpha in the entire Dominion State—stared at me, a dangerous, unreadable intensity flashing deep within his golden eyes.

He held a black leather folder in his hand, his knuckles white against the grain.

He was here for a registration, too. And by the grim, deadly line of his mouth, his prospective bride hadn't shown up.

I took a slow, deliberate breath, stepping directly into his path.

"Alpha Whitmore," I said, my voice cutting cleanly through the quiet night air. "It looks like we both have a problem that requires a marriage certificate before 6:00 PM."

Asher halted, his towering height casting a shadow completely over my plus-size frame. The raw power radiating off him would have brought any normal human or weak wolf to their knees.

He tilted his head slightly, his golden gaze scanning my face, the bandaged forehead, and the fierce, absolute lack of fear in my eyes.

"Harper Calloway," he rasped, his voice a deep, gravelly purr that vibrated straight down my spine. "You were supposed to marry a Mercer today."

"I stripped the Mercer name," I replied smoothly, pulling my blood-registry card from my pocket and holding it out between us. "Now I need a husband with enough power to make them bleed. You need a wife to secure your board seat by sunset."

Asher stared at the card, then brought his golden eyes back to mine. A slow, lethal smirk pulled at the corner of his lips.

"You're bold for a human-born, little wolf."

"I'm not little," I corrected, stepping right into his personal space, my breathing steady despite the dangerous heat rolling off his skin. "And I'm not weak. Are we signing, or are you going to let the Bloodfang Assembly take your territory?"

Asher let out a low, rumbling laugh that vibrated against my chest. He reached out, his long, scarred fingers taking the card from my hand, his warm skin brushing against mine like a spark of raw lightning.

"Inside," he commanded, turning toward the heavy iron doors of the Bureau. "Before I change my mind and mark you right here on the steps."