Chapter Six

I woke up sore in all the right places.

My thighs ached. My breasts felt tender and oversensitive. Between my legs there was a dull, delicious throb that reminded me of every slow thrust, every swipe of his tongue, and every second he’d spent methodically unraveling me piece by piece. The sheets smelled like sex and him—something dark and warm and dangerously addictive.

For one stupid, reckless heartbeat, I wanted to curl back into that scent and pretend the world outside this room didn’t exist.

Then I saw the clock on the nightstand.

9:17 a.m.

Shit.

I shot upright, wincing as muscles I didn’t know I had protested violently. He was still asleep beside me—one arm thrown over the pillow, black hair messy against white sheets, the blanket riding scandalously low on his hips, showing the deep V of muscle and the trail of dark hair disappearing beneath the fabric.

Goddess, he was beautiful even in sleep.

But I had to run… I had to leave.

Cora had been clear: Do what you have to do and leave immediately. Yet I had spent the whole night with my one-night stand.

Wasn’t his service just for an hour?

Yet he’d stayed with me all night, held me, and had made me cum at least three times with his hands, tongue, and dick.

I sure hoped the extra hours wouldn’t cost Cora extra.

I scrambled out of bed as quietly as possible, nearly tripping over my crumpled dress on the floor. My purse had spilled at some point during the night—lipstick, phone, and the emergency cash Cora had stuffed in “just in case you need to tip or bribe someone.”

My hands shook as I grabbed the wad of bills. This felt wrong—leaving money like he was a prostitute, like what we’d shared was a transaction instead of… instead of what? Salvation? Destruction? Both?

I tossed the cash onto the mattress. It landed on his bare stomach. He didn’t even stir.

I’m sorry, I thought but didn’t say.

I yanked my dress on, zipped it crooked, shoved my feet into my heels, grabbed my purse, and bolted for the door without looking back.

The hallway outside was eerily quiet, morning sunlight slicing through the blinds like judgment. I didn’t let myself breathe until I was in Cora’s car and we were speeding away from The Crimson Den, the building shrinking in the rearview mirror.

⸻

Home looked smaller than I remembered. Suffocating.

I slipped through the side gate, praying my father was still asleep or at his office. No such luck.

The front door flew open before my hand even touched the handle.

“Where the hell have you been?” Beta Brennan roared, face turning an alarming shade of purple. “Do you have any idea what time it is? What you’ve done? The Alpha arrives in less than an hour and you… you disappear all night like some common whore!”

I stepped past him into the foyer, chin held high despite my racing heart. “Where I was is none of your business.”

He grabbed my arm hard enough to leave fingerprints, yanking me back around to face him. “Everything you do is my business until you’re signed over to the Thornwick Pack! The Alpha is coming today. Today, Isla! You will be on your absolute best behavior. You will smile. You will curtsy. You will be grateful for the honor he’s—”

I laughed directly in his face. “I’m not marrying anyone.”

He went completely still, fingers tightening painfully on my arm. “What did you just say?”

“You want to know where I was?” I jerked my arm free, stumbling back a step. “Fine. I’ll tell you exactly where I was. I spent the night at a sex club getting fucked six ways to Sunday by a stranger who actually made me come. Twice. I’m not a virgin anymore, Dad. So congratulations—your precious alliance is dead in the water. The contract is void. But if you want it so much, then maybe you can marry the crippled Alpha yourself and secure the family legacy.”

His hand came up so fast I didn’t have time to flinch or dodge.

But the slap never landed.

The doorbell rang—sharp, formal, three perfectly timed chimes that echoed through the house.

My father froze mid-swing, palm still raised inches from my face. His eyes promised absolute murder later, when there were no witnesses.

“Fix your face,” he hissed through clenched teeth, smoothing his shirt and straightening his collar. “Not. One. Word.”

He strode to the door, his politician’s mask sliding seamlessly into place, and swung it open with a welcoming smile that made my skin crawl.

“Alpha Thornwick! What an honor—”

His words cut off.

My heart stopped.

Because there, on our front step, flanked by four armed guards in black tactical gear with the Thornwick crest on their shoulders, was him.

The man from last night.

Same sharp jaw I’d traced with trembling fingers. Same pale, piercing eyes that had watched me fall apart beneath him. Same broad shoulders—though now clothed in an impeccably tailored black suit that probably cost more than my entire college tuition.

Except he was sitting in a wheelchair.

The stranger who had lifted me like I weighed nothing, who had carried me to that bed, who had fucked me with the strength and stamina of a man in his absolute prime—he was sitting in a goddamn wheelchair, hands folded calmly in his lap.

And the wolf crest embroidered on his guards’ jackets was unmistakable:

The Thornwick wolf. Silver thread on black fabric.

My knees almost buckled.

He looked straight at me, his expression carefully neutral, and the corner of his mouth curved upward—just slightly. The exact same curve I’d seen in the dark when I’d begged him not to stop, when I’d clawed marks down his back and gasped his name without knowing it was his name.

“Miss Isla Brennan,” he said, and his voice was smooth as expensive whiskey. “What a pleasure to finally meet you.”

Finally?

My father was already bowing and scraping like a servant. “Please, Alpha Thornwick, please come in! We’re so honored by your visit. My daughter has been eagerly awaiting—”

“Has she?”

Those pale eyes never left mine, and something dangerous glittered in their depths. Amusement? Possession? Both?

“How… interesting.”

I couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. Couldn’t do anything except stand there frozen while my entire world collapsed and rebuilt itself into something unrecognizable.

Because the man I had paid to destroy my future was the exact future I’d been desperately running from.

And from the way those silver eyes were burning into me—cataloging every inch of me like he was remembering exactly what I looked like naked and writhing beneath him—he remembered every single second of last night.

Every moan.

Every desperate plea.

Every time I’d screamed for more.

Every scratch I’d left down his back.

Every time I’d clenched around him and shattered.

The Alpha wasn’t paralyzed.

The contract wasn’t void.

And from the possessive way he was looking at me—like I was already his property, his wife, his to do with as he pleased—

I was completely and utterly fucked.

Not in the good way this time.

“Shall we discuss the wedding arrangements?” he asked pleasantly, wheeling himself past my father into our house like he owned it.

Like he owned me.

My father was still talking, oblivious. “Of course, of course! The ceremony is in two days, everything is prepared—”

But I couldn’t hear him anymore over the roaring in my ears.

Kael Thornwick—Alpha of the Northern Territories, the most powerful wolf on the continent, the man I was being forced to marry—had just fucked me senseless in a sex club.

And he’d done it on purpose.

Our eyes met across the foyer, and this time his smile was sharp enough to draw blood.

"Checkmate," that smile said.

I was going to kill him.