Little stepsister.

The phone ringing shattered the silence between us.

One of the men glanced at the screen before walking over to Braxton. "Alpha, your Luna is calling."

Luna.

The word hit me harder than it should have.

My fingers curled against my skirt as I kept my head lowered, afraid that if I looked at him for too long, he'd recognise me despite the mask.

Of course he had a Luna.

Five years had passed.

Five years since I'd disappeared from his life without a single explanation.

What had I expected?

That he'd spend every day mourning a woman who had betrayed him?

That he'd refuse to move on because of a promise we'd made as reckless teenagers?

A bitter smile tugged at my lips.

How foolish.

The men waited for Braxton to answer the call, but instead, he glanced at the phone before lifting one hand.

"Later." He dismissed it.

His Beta frowned. "Alpha, it's your…"

"I said later." He growled low.

The room fell silent again.

No one questioned him. No one dared to.

One by one, the men rose from their seats.

"We'll wait outside."

The Beta hesitated for a second before placing the phone on the table. "We'll be right outside if you need us."

The door closed behind the last man.

The room suddenly felt much smaller and much quieter.

I could hear my own heartbeat.

Braxton hadn't said a single word since ordering them to bring me over, yet the warmth of his body beneath mine was enough to drag memories I'd spent years trying to bury back to the surface.

The nights we'd sneaked away from the pack. The promises we'd whispered beneath the stars.

The future we'd believed no one could take from us.

I forced the memories away before they swallowed me whole.

None of that mattered anymore. Not after everything that had happened.

Braxton leaned back against the sofa, his gaze never leaving me.

"So..." His voice was calm, almost lazy. "You're the dancer they sent me?"

I lowered my head another inch and nodded. "Yes, Alpha."

His eyes narrowed slightly. "You sound nervous."

"I've never danced in a VIP room before."

"Hm." He hummed with a nod.

Silence settled between us again.

I prayed he'd lose interest. That he'd tell me to leave.

That I'd walk out of this room with enough money to pay for Micah's surgery and never see him again.

Instead, he rested one arm along the back of the sofa.

"Stand up." He commanded.

For a second, I thought I'd misheard him.

"I'm sorry?" My eyes widened slightly.

"I said stand." He repeated.

I quickly climbed off his lap and stood in front of him.

His gaze travelled slowly from my heels to the silver mask covering my face before returning to my eyes.

"If you're going to take people's money," he said, "the least you can do is earn it."

My stomach tightened. "I... I'll dance."

"I've already seen you dance." The corner of his mouth lifted faintly. "It was terrible."

Heat rushed into my cheeks. "I only started recently."

"So I noticed." He nodded.

He picked up the stack of notes lying on the table and held them between his fingers.

"Tell me." His eyes settled on me again. "What made you choose this line of work?"

My throat tightened. "I needed the money."

"For what?" He raised a brow.

I looked away. "I'd rather not say."

His expression didn't change.

"As a stripper, you don't get to choose which questions you answer."

I stayed silent. The room seemed to grow colder.

After a long moment, Braxton tossed the money back onto the table.

"If you can't dance," he said evenly, "there's another way to entertain a customer."

My heart skipped.

He spread his legs slightly and leaned back against the sofa.

"You know what to do."

For a second, I couldn't breathe.

Surely… No. He couldn't be asking me to…

"I..." My voice hitched. "I can't."

His eyes hardened. "Can't?"

"I've never..." The lie died in my throat before I could finish it.

Braxton reached for the money again and casually thumbed through the thick stack.

"This should be enough to keep you comfortable for a while."

I stared at it. It was more money than I'd make in months.

Enough to cover Micah's operation.

Enough to stop wondering whether I'd have to choose between paying rent and buying his medication.

Every instinct told me to leave but every thought led back to my son.

Braxton watched the battle playing out across my face without saying a word.

Finally, he placed the money back on the table.

"Do it," he said quietly. "Or I'll make sure you don't leave this room alive."

The threat wasn't loud because he didn't need to raise his voice.

I believed every word.

The room fell silent again.

I stared at the money lying on the table before looking back at him.

Five years ago, Braxton would have burned this club to the ground before letting another man speak to me the way he just had.

Now he was the one asking me to kneel.

The irony almost made me laugh.

"I don't have all night." His voice remained calm, but there was no mistaking the warning behind it.

My nails dug into my palms.

Every instinct screamed at me to walk away.

I still had my dignity. I still had the choice to leave this room.

But if I walked out now, what would I tell Micah tomorrow?

That I couldn't afford the treatment he'd been waiting for?

That his mother had chosen her pride over him?

I closed my eyes for the briefest moment.

I'm sorry.

I wasn't sure whether I was apologising to myself... or to the man sitting in front of me.

When I opened my eyes again, Braxton hadn't moved.

He simply watched me. Waiting and judging. Maybe even enjoying my hesitation.

I hated him for that.

No… I hated the fact that after everything we'd been through, he'd become someone I no longer recognised.

Without another word, I stepped closer.

My knees met the polished floor, the cold seeping through the thin fabric of my skirt.

I couldn't bring myself to look at him. Not because I was ashamed.

Because if I looked into his eyes, I might remember the boy who used to promise he'd spend the rest of his life protecting me.

That boy was gone.

The man sitting before me was Alpha now.

And I was nothing more than another woman he'd paid to obey.

My trembling hands reached for his belt.

Please...

Just let this end quickly.

I fumbled with the buckle before finally undoing it.

My fingers moved to the waistband of his trousers.

Just as I started to pull them down...

His hand closed around my wrist.

His grip wasn't painful, it was unyielding.

He stared at me for a long moment before letting out a quiet, humourless laugh.

"You left me five years ago..." His thumb tightened slightly against my wrist. "Just to end up living like this..."

His eyes locked onto mine through the silver mask.

"Little stepsister?”