Chapter 6

Harper 

Isadora’s call came in right after that text, like it was some cryptic message hinting that I might take my life.

“What do you mean by you’re free?” She asked, her tone dripping with curiosity. I let out a deep sigh, my eyes fixed on a taxi driving steadily down the street. 

“One second.” I whispered. I pulled the phone away from my ears with one hand while I flagged the taxi with the other. 

As soon as I hopped into the backseat, I returned the phone to my ears. “Harper, answer the damn question.” She hissed. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be handling your business emergency?” I snapped back.

“I should, and it’ll be easier to do that if you tell me what I need to hear. Come on! Out with it.” She replied, her patience wearing thin. 

I leaned into my seat. “Well, I just said no to my father and walked away from my family.” My voice cracked at the reminder that those people were supposed to be my family. 

“No to what?” 

I told her everything.

I told her how my family sat me down like a jury, like I was on trial in my own house. How despite everything I've been through, my parents decided the best solution was for me to swallow my pride and humiliate myself.

And to crown it all, they want me to marry that wicked old man.

“You think walking away is going to stop your father from making you do what he wants?” She asked. 

The taxi slowed down and I realised we’d gotten to my destination. “Of course not but I had to do something. And don’t worry, I have a plan.” 

“What is it?” 

“Go back to work, Isadora.” I hung up.

I pushed the car door open and stepped out onto the sidewalk, dragging my tiny suitcase behind me.

"Thank you." I muttered to the taxi driver without even looking back, my father's words still on a loop in my head.

I walked into the lobby on autopilot and pressed the elevator button. When the doors finally slid open, he was standing right there.

He looked even more breathtaking than the last time I'd seen him. Blue shirt, the first few buttons left undone, open to his chest.

I just froze. Why did he have to show up every time I was in distress, like some guardian angel. 

I couldn't get into an elevator with him. Not after last night. Not after the way I'd run away this morning.

“Hello neighbour, are you getting in or not?” He asked, his voice cold and detached. 

Is he angry? Because I refused to marry a man I just met?

I didn't want to look at him, so I bent my head down and forced myself into the elevator anyway.

“Is everything alright?” He asked.

I nodded, refusing to look at him. “I’m fine.” 

My phone blared, the familiar ringtone I set aside for my father. He couldn’t even let me get away before proving that I was still nothing but a pawn in his hands. 

“You are playing with fire, Harper!” He said as soon as the call connected, his voice taking a warning tone. “You will marry Leandro Salazar because I am your father and I said so!” He continued.

“I refuse to keep being someone you pawn off for alliances, papa.” I replied softly, my voice shaky as the confidence I felt earlier slipped away. 

My grip around my suitcase tightened until my knuckles turned white. 

“You don’t have a choice, if you try to fight me, I will be relentless. Don’t make me come to you Harper.” He exhaled. “Preparations for your marriage ceremony have already begun.” 

At that moment, I completely forgot there was someone else in the elevator with me until I felt it, his fingers closing around mine, gently pulling my hand away from my suitcase and holding it firmly in his soft palms.

“My offer still stands…” he whispered. 

My head spun in circles, unable to form another thought but I knew that my options were slim. A young and attractive man I barely knew or an old hag whose vile reputation precedes him.

I drew in a sharp breath. “I have already found someone I want to be with, papa.” 

“Pack standings?” 

“An alpha.” I replied, hanging up immediately before he’d ask more questions to tear my lie down. 

My eyes found him but before I could utter a word, the doors to the elevator opened and he walked away with quick strides. I grabbed my suitcase and ran after him. 

“Wait!” I yelled, trying to catch my breath and catch up with him at the same time. 

He spun around to face me, his hands tucked firmly into his pockets. His face twisted into an expression I couldn't quite read, like he was smiling and not smiling at the same time.

"We don't have to talk about it right now," he said, his voice low. "You look tired. Why don't you get some rest and we can discuss it later."

I shook my head, letting out a deep sigh. “My best interests shouldn’t concern you. I want to talk about it now.” I replied, grabbing my suitcase and walking past him. 

I didn’t stop until I got to the front door. 4A.

“You’re at the wrong door again.” He teased.

I bit my lower lip, trying to prevent myself from lashing out at him. He didn’t deserve it, he was on my side. 

“Open it.” I ordered.

He punched in the combination and I didn’t care to look away while he did. The doors clicked and he pushed it open before stepping aside. “After you.” He exhaled.

I walked in and didn’t take more than a second to look around before noticing how much the house lacked any form of personality. White walls, white ceilings, white lights and three white sofas. 

On the wall hung a television that didn’t look like it had come on in years, part of which was covered by a white cloth. 

Without hesitation or even waiting for an invitation, I dropped into the sofa. “It’s strictly business.” I spat. 

“What is?” He asked, his brows raised in confusion as he settled into the opposite sofa. 

“This marriage we’re about to get into.” I replied. “It’s going to be fake and temporary.” 

“Can we at least get to know each other first?” He cut in. 

“I was in your bed last night. I think we know each other quite well.” I replied, my voice losing its volume. I regretted the words as soon as they left my mouth. 

He smirked, tilting his head to the side. “We are about to be married, surely we need each other’s names don’t we?” He asked. 

My cheeks flushed immediately. That’s right. I’m so stupid. 

“Right. I’m Harper Vargas, daughter of Rafael Vargas; Alpha of the Frostpelt Pack.” I said, the words tumbling out in a rush like a rehearsed speech.

He gave a small nod. "I'm Santiago Montero. Youngest Alpha of the Montero pack..."

"The Montero of the east coast?" I gasped before I could stop myself.

He nodded again. "The very one."

My stomach dropped.