Six

RIVETTE 

"Give it back!"

"Make me, Leo! You are too slow!"

Footsteps slapped against the cold marble floor. High-pitched giggles bounced off the tall glass windows of the estate. Two small boys dashed past the grand staircase, a blur of dark hair and boundless energy.

Watching them from the balcony, a soft smile touched Rivette’s lips. Leo and Lucas. Her twins. Her reason for breathing. They both had the same unruly black hair. They shared the same piercing blue eyes. Those eyes haunted her in the dark. A constant reminder of the man she left behind.

"Boys," she called out, leaning over the iron railing. "Stop running in the hall. You will knock over the antique vases."

"Lucas started it," Leo whined. Skidding to a halt, he pointed a chubby finger at his brother.

"I did not! You tried to steal my wooden wolf."

"Both of you, go to the playroom. Now."

They groaned in unison. Small shoulders slumped. Turning around, they marched down the corridor, their bare feet making slapping sounds on the expensive rugs.

Silence returned to the massive house. Rivette let out a long breath. Her hands gripped the cold railing. Six years had passed. Six years since the night her life was shattered into pieces.

Memories of twisting metal and broken glass often woke her in a cold sweat. Plunging down that rocky cliff felt like the end of everything. The heavy truck had crushed her legs against the dashboard. Blood soaked her torn clothes. Pain tore through her fragile body, dragging her down into a dark pit. Rain washed over her face. Mud filled her mouth. She remembered whispering a final apology to the tiny life growing inside her stomach.

But death did not take her.

Alpha Henrik of the Blackwood Clan found her. He had been tracking rogue wolves near the border when the horrific crash happened. Recognizing her scent amidst the burning oil and rain, he pulled her broken body from the wreckage moments before the truck burst into flames. Henrik owed her late father a massive life debt. He repaid it that night.

Whisking her away on a private jet, he took her to his remote territory in Switzerland. Months of agonizing surgeries followed. Doctors placed metal pins in her shattered legs. Nurses fed her through tubes. She endured hours of brutal physical therapy. She learned to walk again. She learned to fight through the pain.

Most important of all, she gave birth to two healthy boys. The single pregnancy had hidden a secret twin. Holding them in her arms for the first time, a fierce fire ignited in her chest.

Surviving was not enough. Rivette needed power. She refused to remain a weak victim. With Henrik’s backing and vast resources, she launched 'Second Dawn'. It began as a small mountain shelter for abused latents and discarded Omegas. Soon, it grew into a massive organization. Money poured in from sympathetic European packs. Within five years, she was at the head of a massive charitable empire. She was a CEO. A powerful figure in the werewolf world.

The deaf, useless girl from the Eastern pack died in that ravine. In her place stood a woman forged in fire.

Life felt perfect. Until last month.

A simple fever started the nightmare. Lucas came home from school with a warm forehead and a tired pout. Medicine did nothing to cool his skin. Then came the bruises. Dark purple marks blooming on his pale arms and legs for no reason. His endless energy faded into deep exhaustion. He stopped playing with his brother. He stopped eating.

Fear gripped Rivette’s heart. She rushed him to the best pediatric clinic in Geneva.

Sitting in the sterile white office, the smell of rubbing alcohol made her stomach turn. Dr. Vargas placed a thick yellow folder on his metal desk. His expression offered no comfort.

"We ran the blood tests three times," the doctor said, folding his hands together on the desk. "Lucas has Acute Myeloid Leukemia. A rare and aggressive mutation."

The words felt like a physical blow. Her vision blurred. "What does that mean? Fix him. I have money. Give him the best treatments available."

"Money cannot buy this cure, Rivette," Vargas sighed. He rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Chemotherapy is failing. His white blood cell count is dropping. He needs a bone marrow transplant. Or stem cells from umbilical cord blood. We tested you. We tested Leo. Neither of you are a match. His genetic makeup is too complex. This happens often with dominant Lycan genes inherited from a powerful father."

Tears spilled down her cheeks. She wiped them away with a trembling hand. "There must be a donor somewhere in the world."

"We checked the global registries. Nothing came back. The only guaranteed match is a full biological sibling."

Silence filled the room. The hum of the air conditioner sounded loud in her ears. A full sibling. She needed another baby.

"How much time does he have?" she asked. Her voice cracked.

"Six months. Maybe less if the fever returns."

Panic clawed at her throat. To save Lucas, she had to go back. She had to face the monster who ordered her to drink poison. She needed Kiel. Not for love. Not for closure. She needed his seed.

New York City smelled of rain and exhaust fumes. Raindrops streaked across the tinted window of the black town car. Rivette stared at the glowing skyscrapers passing by. Her heart hammered a frantic rhythm against her ribs.

"Are you sure about this?"

Turning her head, she looked at Henrik. The European Alpha sat beside her in a tailored grey suit. He had insisted on coming to protect her.

"I have no choice," she replied. She smoothed the fabric of her dress. "Lucas is dying in a hospital bed. I will do whatever it takes to save my son."

"Seducing a man who tried to kill you is a dangerous game. Kiel is not a fool."

"He thinks I am dead. He has no reason to suspect a European charity CEO is his discarded wife. The moment I get what I need, I am leaving."

Her plan was simple. Attend the annual Lycan Charity Auction. Catch his eye. Get him into a hotel room. Disappear before morning. No names. No talking. Just biology.

The car stopped in front of the grand Waldorf Astoria. Flashbulbs went off like lightning strikes. Valets rushed to open the heavy car doors.

Stepping out onto the red carpet, Rivette adjusted her dress. It was a masterpiece of black silk. It clung to her curves, dipping low in the back to expose her spine. A sheer veil of dark lace covered the upper half of her face. The event had a masquerade theme. Perfect for hiding in plain sight. Her new hearing aids were custom-made. They were tiny and invisible under her styled dark hair. No one would recognize the broken girl from the past.

Walking up the grand marble stairs, the noise of the crowd washed over her. Rich alphas in tuxedos stood in groups. Lunas dripping in diamonds laughed with covered mouths. Priceless artifacts sat in glass display cases, waiting for the bidding war.

"Invitation, please," a burly guard demanded at the entrance. He blocked the massive oak doors with his wide chest.

She handed him a gold-embossed card. He scanned it, then looked her up and down with a sneer.

"Second Dawn Foundation? Never heard of it. This event is for high-ranking pack members only. Not charity beggars."

Before he could hand the card back, Henrik stepped up behind her. His massive frame blocked the hall light. His dominant aura flooded the space, forcing the guard to take a step back in pure fear.

"You speak to my guest with respect, pup," Henrik growled. His eyes flashed gold. "Or I will tear out your throat right here."

The guard swallowed hard. Sweat formed on his brow. "M-my apologies, Alpha. Go right in."

Rivette lifted her chin and walked into the ballroom.

Crystal chandeliers hung from the painted ceiling. Waiters carried silver trays of expensive champagne. Soft jazz music floated through the air. She moved through the crowd with grace. Men turned their heads to watch her. Whispers followed in her wake.

A random Alpha stepped in front of her. He wore a red velvet jacket and reeked of cheap cologne.

"Care for a dance, mystery woman?" he asked, flashing a white smile.

"No thank you," she said, sidestepping him without missing a beat.

Then, she smelled it.

Pine needles and sharp winter air.

Her breath caught in her throat. The scent hit her like a freight train. It drowned out the expensive perfumes and the smell of roasted meat. Every nerve in her body ignited. She remembered that smell from a hundred sleepless nights.

She turned her head.

There he stood in the center of the room.

Alpha Kiel.

He looked older. Broader in the shoulders. A sharp black tuxedo fit his massive frame like a second skin. His dark hair was brushed back. He held a crystal glass of whiskey, talking to an older council member. Beside him stood Liam, looking just as arrogant as she remembered.

Just then, Kiel stopped talking.

His head snapped in her direction. His nostrils flared like a wild beast catching a scent. Across the crowded room, his gaze locked onto hers. The glass in his hand slipped from his fingers. It shattered against the marble floor. Amber liquid splashed everywhere.

"What the fuck," he whispered. Even over the music, she read his lips.

He did not blink. His broad chest heaved up and down. The cold, dead expression he always wore vanished in an instant. Pure shock stretched across his features. He took a step forward, ignoring the broken glass crunching under his expensive shoes.

Rivette stood frozen in place. Her pulse drummed a wild beat in her ears. The game had begun.