FAZER LOGIN"You actually think you can pass off my thesis as your own? That's a bold move, Victoria. Even for a thief."
Madison’s voice didn't just carry; it sliced through the polite clinking of champagne flutes like a serrated blade. On the elevated stage, Victoria Cain froze. Her fingers cramped around the base of the gold plated 'Scientific Excellence' trophy. The stage lights, once flattering, now made the beads of sweat on her upper lip look like oily grease.
"Madison?" Victoria’s voice cracked, a jagged, ugly sound. "Security! Get this... this jealous bitch out of here!"
"Jealous of what? Your inability to balance a chemical equation?" Madison stepped from the shadow of the velvet curtains. She didn't look like the girl who used to scrub the packhouse floors. She wore a dress that looked like spun moonlight and carried a presence that made the Elders in the front row shift in their seats.
"Sit down, Victoria. You’re embarrassing the family more than usual." Alpha Gregory Cain growled from the VIP table, his face a mottled purple. He looked at Madison, his jaw grinding. "Madison, leave. Now. Before I have you thrown into the pits."
"Oh, I’m leaving, Gregory. But first, let’s look at the 'genius' you replaced me with." Madison tossed a sleek, matte black flash drive toward the tech booth. The intern caught it by reflex, eyes wide.
"Don't you dare!" Victoria screamed, lunging for the tech desk, but the screen behind her already flickered to life.
The gala hall went silent. It wasn't the thesis on the screen. It was Victoria’s high school transcripts. Massive red 'F' marks lined the columns. Truancy reports. A scanned image of her diploma appeared next, the pixels blurring where the name had been poorly Photoshopped over another student’s.
"What the fuck is this?" Austin Reynolds stood up, his face pale. He looked at the girl he’d chosen, the 'intellectual match' he’d bragged about.
"Wait, it gets better," Madison said, her voice dropping to a low, dangerous purr. She gestured to the screen as the files flipped to the core of the wolf serum thesis. "Check the protein sequence on page forty two, Elders. Victoria thought she was stealing a formula for strength. She didn't realize I wrote that paper as a hypothetical study on biological warfare."
The Head Elder, a man whose skin looked like ancient parchment, leaned forward, his eyes narrowing at the code. "This... this isn't a stabilizer."
"No," Madison said, her smile sharp enough to draw blood. "It’s a sterilization kill switch. If you’d injected your warriors with Victoria’s 'discovery,' the Silver Moon pack would have been extinct in a generation. No more pups. No more future. Just a pack of sterile dogs waiting to die."
The room exploded. Gregory Cain didn't just roar; he lunged for the stage, his hand catching Victoria by the throat. The trophy clattered to the floor, the hollow gold sound echoing through the chaos.
"You stupid, worthless brat!" Gregory’s voice was a guttural snarl. "You almost ended us!"
"Dad, I didn't know! I just wanted—" Victoria’s plea ended in a choked gasp as her father’s grip tightened.
Austin was backed against the wall, eyes darting toward Madison, looking for a way to crawl back into her good graces. Madison didn't give him the satisfaction of a glance. She turned her back on the screaming family, the sound of the pack tearing itself apart at the seams providing a better soundtrack than the orchestra ever could.
She walked out the grand mahogany doors, her heels clicking a steady, rhythmic beat. Outside, the night air was crisp, smelling of pine and the looming storm of her next move.
Later that night, the adrenaline hadn't faded; it had curdled into a tight, pulsing knot in her lower belly. She wasn't back at her royal estate yet. She was in a high end penthouse overlooking the city, the floor to ceiling glass reflecting the neon lights below.
The door behind her clicked shut. The scent hit her first—heavy, masculine, like wet earth and expensive leather.
Ethan Harper.
He didn't say a word. He didn't have to. The air in the room thickened until it was hard to draw a breath. He moved like a shadow, closing the distance until his chest was a solid wall against her back. His heat radiated through the thin silk of her dress.
"You like to play with fire, don't you?" Ethan’s voice was a low vibration against the back of her neck.
Madison leaned back into him, her head tilting to give him access. "I like watching things burn when they deserve it."
His hands, calloused and massive, slid around her waist. He didn't move them gently. His fingers dug into her hips, anchoring her. He spun her around, his golden eyes blown out, almost entirely black with the wolf’s hunger.
"You're going to be the death of me," he growled.
He didn't wait. His mouth crashed onto hers, tasting of whiskey and possessiveness. Madison groaned into the kiss, her fingers tangling in his thick hair, pulling him closer. He hiked her up, her legs wrapping instinctively around his waist. He walked her toward the glass, pinning her against the window. The cold glass against her back and his burning skin against her front made her gasp.
He ripped the straps of her dress down, the silk pooling at her waist. His mouth left hers to trail a path of fire down her throat, biting at the junction of her shoulder. Madison’s head thrashed back, her eyes catching the city lights as she felt his hands travel lower, bunching the fabric of her skirt until he found the damp heat between her thighs.
"Ethan," she breathed, her voice a broken whisper.
"Say it again," he commanded, his thumb circling her clit with a bruising pressure.
He unbuckled his belt, the metal clinking in the quiet room. He didn't bother with the bed. He pulled her knickers aside, his cock springing free, thick and pulsing against her leg. He guided himself to her entrance, the tip sliding through her slickness.
With one sharp, violent thrust, he buried himself to the hilt.
Madison screamed, the sound muffled against his shoulder. He was too large, a literal weight that seemed to fill her entire body. Her internal muscles spasmed around him, clutching at the intrusion. He didn't give her time to adjust. He began to move, his hips slamming into hers with a savage rhythm.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
The glass rattled with every strike. Madison gripped the window frame, her knuckles turning white. She felt the salt of his sweat dripping onto her chest, the tangle of their limbs a messy, desperate knot. He wasn't being graceful; he was pouncing, his body a heavy, driving force that pushed her higher and higher.
"Look at the city," he hissed in her ear, his breath hitching as he pounded into her pussy. "Look at what you’re going to take."
Madison couldn't see the city. She could only see the white light behind her eyelids. She felt the friction, the stinging heat of his skin sliding against hers. She arched her back, her legs tightening around him, pulling him deeper. She wanted more. She wanted the ache.
He flipped her around, forcing her to lean over the back of a leather sofa. He grabbed her hair, pulling her head back as he entered her from behind, doggie style. The angle let him go deeper, his cock hitting her cervix with every brutal shove.
"Please," she whimpered, her arms shaking as she tried to stay upright.
He didn't answer with words. He reached around, his hand covering her mouth as he accelerated. The friction peaked, a white hot explosion radiating from her core. Madison’s vision fractured as her orgasm hit, her body bucking against him. He let out a low, animalistic roar, his grip on her hair tightening as he cum, the hot, thick flood of him filling her completely.
The aftermath was a heavy, suffocating silence. Ethan collapsed on top of her, his literal weight pressing her into the leather. Madison lay there, her limbs like lead, her skin stinging and raw. The lingering warmth between her legs was a constant reminder of the claim he’d just staked.
He rolled off her, but kept his hand on her thigh, his thumb tracing the bruises he’d left behind.
"The Cains are done," he said, his voice returning to that cold, CEO gravel. "But the Council won't let a territory that large sit empty. They'll call a meeting tomorrow."
Madison sat up, her hair a wild, tangled mess, her lips swollen. She didn't look tired. She looked lethal.
"Let them call it," she said, her voice steady. "I’m not just taking their land. I’m taking their name."
"Why did you lie to me?"The silver training staff whistled through the air, aiming straight for Ethan’s temple. He didn't flinch. He just lifted a hand. The metal hit his palm with a heavy, bone-jarring thud. He caught it, fingers locking around the polished surface, stopping the vibration an inch from his skin."Madi, put the stick down. You're gonna break a rib if you keep swinging like that.""What the fuck else is a lie, Ethan?" Madison shoved against the staff, trying to wrench it back. "The mate bond? The nights in the penthouse? Was that just part of the contract? Did my father pay for that too?"Ethan’s grip tightened. The silver groaned under his strength. He jerked the staff forward, pulling Madison into his chest. His eyes were dark, the gold iris bleeding into the black pupil. He looked tired. Worn down."Your father didn't pay for shit. Jonathan Clarke hired me. There’s a difference.""Jonathan Clarke?" Madison let go of the staff, stumbling back. "The tech mogul? The gu
"Don't move a muscle, Princess. Seriously. One twitch and you’re a colander."The voice buzzed through a hidden comms unit, tinny and smug. Madison stood frozen in the center of the damp alleyway. The brick walls bled moisture, smelling of sour trash and old rain. Red light pinpricked the darkness. Thirty of them. Tiny, unblinking eyes of light crawled over her leather jacket, settling on her throat, her chest, and right between her eyes."Austin’s cousin?" Madison spat. She didn't look up at the rooftops. "Caleb? That greedy little bottom-feeder? He always did have more money than sense.""Caleb says hi. He also says thanks for the inheritance."The red dots jittered. High above, the click of safeties coming off echoed like dry bones snapping. Madison shifted her weight. Her pulse slowed to a heavy, Royal thrum. The world stretched. The drip of water from a rusted pipe slowed until each bead was a glass sphere hanging in the air."Wrong answer," Madison whispered.She didn't run. She
"You're a goddamn lunatic. You know that?"Ethan’s voice was a jagged rasp, vibrating against the sensitive skin of Madison’s throat. The Lykan sat idling on the edge of the Devil’s Hairpin, the exhaust spitting heat into the freezing mountain air. Inside the cramped cabin, the air was a thick, cloying cocktail of ozone, burnt rubber, and the sharp, metallic tang of the blood still drying on Madison’s shoulder.Madison didn't answer with words. She arched her back, her chest heaving under the shredded racing leather. She shoved her fingers into Ethan’s hair, yanking his head down until their foreheads collided."Drive the car or get on top of me, Ethan. Stop talking."He didn't hesitate. He lunged.He caught both of her wrists in one massive hand, pinning them against the carbon fiber roof. The leather creaked. Madison’s pulse hammered against his palm, a frantic, rhythmic thud. He wasn't gentle. He hiked her hips up, the back of the passenger seat groaning as he wedged himself betwee
"Help me! Madison, please! What the fuck are you doing? Help me!"Austin’s voice was a wet, bubbling rattle. He dragged himself across the scorched asphalt, his fingers clawing at the grit. The sleek Mustang was a skeleton of orange fire behind him, the heat warping the air into a sickening haze. One of his legs was twisted at an impossible angle, the bone white and jagged through the charred denim. His face, that "golden boy" mask that had graced a thousand pack galas, was a ruin of soot and peeling skin.Madison stepped out of the Lykan. Her heels clicked a steady, rhythmic beat against the pavement. The sound was clinical. Cold. She didn't rush. She didn't breathe harder. She stopped three feet from his reaching, blackened fingers."The engine's still hissing, Austin," Madison said. She looked down at him, her eyes as flat as frozen lakes. "You might want to move faster. The fuel lines are leaking.""Madi... ahh! Fuck, it burns!" He coughed, a spray of dark blood hitting the road.
"Engine's hot, Madi. Just like you."Ethan Harper didn't move from the matte black fender of the supercar. He just stood there, arms crossed over his chest, the heavy muscles of his biceps straining against the dark wool of his coat. His eyes didn't stay on her face. They traveled. They traced the silver line of her neck, dropped to the swell of her chest beneath the tight racing leather, and lingered on the curve of her hip.Madison didn't give him the satisfaction of a blush. She didn't even look at him. She reached for the door handle of the Lykan Hypersport, the carbon fiber cool against her sweating palms."Check the tire pressure and shut up, Ethan," she snapped. Her voice was a low, jagged rasp. The wind on the Devil’s Hairpin was a physical weight now, biting through her gear, smelling of burnt rubber and ancient slate."Ouch. Feisty." Ethan straightened up, his height blocking out the flickering neon of the starting line. He stepped into her personal space, the scent of sanda
"What the hell is this?"The black envelope landed on the mahogany with a dry slap. It didn't have a stamp. No return address. Just a heavy, wax seal that looked like a drop of dried blood. Madison didn't touch it at first. She leaned back, her knuckles still swollen from the training mats, and stared at the void-dark paper.She sliced the wax with a letter opener. A silver key tumbled out, clattering against a crystal paperweight. Underneath it, a single slip of vellum bore coordinates etched in ink that smelled faintly of sulfur and cold iron.The Devil’s Hairpin.The phone on the corner of the desk vibrated, skittering toward the edge. The caller ID was a name she’d scrubbed from her contacts but burned into her memory.Austin.She swiped the screen. "You’ve got ten seconds before I block this number again, Austin. Make 'em count.""Madi? Oh thank god you picked up." His voice was a jagged mess. The arrogance from the packhouse was gone, replaced by a wet, desperate wheeze. "Look,







