Pig Slop? My One Move Crushed Them

The heavy, stifling scent of ozone, rain, and wet earth drifted through the open windows of the grand hall, but all I could smell was my own impending doom. The air inside the Crescent Moon packhouse felt thick, suffocating, and heavy with a desperation that had been building for months.

"You will smile, Lucia," my stepmother hissed, her voice a sharp whisper that barely carried past my ear. Her manicured, claw-like fingers dug painfully into the flesh of my shoulder, the pressure bruising. "Your pack is falling. Look around you, you ungrateful girl. We are completely bankrupt, our borders are bleeding from ruthless rogue attacks every single night, and the Brook Pack is the only thing standing between us and total slaughter. Do not dare ruin this alliance with your miserable face."

I squeezed my eyes shut for a brief second, trying to force down the hot bile rising in my throat, before forcing my eyes open to look across the long mahogany table. My eyes locked onto the man who held our entire survival—our very lives—in his large, calloused hands.

Alpha Maximo Brook.

He was lethal, devastatingly handsome, and completely terrifying. His broad, muscular shoulders filled out a tailored charcoal suit jacket perfectly, and his sheer alpha presence alone seemed to suck all the oxygen out of the massive room. He sat with an aura of absolute command, his dark, obsidian eyes cold as ice as he stared right past me. His intense, unblinking gaze landed entirely on my older stepsister, Agatha, who sat directly to my right. Agatha gave him a soft, flawless, practiced smile, her delicate, pale hand resting elegantly on the white lace tablecloth like a fragile piece of porcelain.

"The arrangement is simple," Maximo’s deep, rumbling baritone voice boomed, echoing off the high stone walls and sending a violent, involuntary shiver straight down my spine. "I will provide five hundred of my most highly trained warriors to fortify your northern borders. I will also transfer three million credits in immediate resources to rebuild your broken perimeter walls. In exchange, I take a bride from the Alpha's direct bloodline to legally and spiritually secure the treaty between our packs. But let me be perfectly clear to everyone at this table: I will not be marrying Agatha."

My stepmother gasped loudly, the sound echoing sharply in the quiet hall. Her grip tightened on my shoulder so hard I was certain it would leave a dark purple mark by morning. "But Alpha Maximo... Agatha is the one you requested in your initial letters! She is the one who—"

"I know exactly what she did," Maximo interrupted smoothly, cutting her off without raising his voice, which somehow made him sound even more dangerous. His cold gaze finally snapped away from Agatha, sliding over to freeze directly onto me. His sharp, aristocratic lip curled in a slight sneer of undisguised distaste.

"Agatha is too pure, too fragile to be dragged into the dark, violent reality of my territory. She belongs in the light.

Therefore, I will marry the younger sister, Lucia Hayes. She will be the sacrifice to satisfy this contract."

A sharp, physical ache pierced my chest, so sudden and painful it stole the breath from my lungs. He looked at me like I was dirt beneath his expensive leather boots. He thought he was being a heroic savior.

He genuinely believed he was protecting Agatha, saving his "precious, innocent angel" from a cold, loveless political alliance, all while using me as a disposable pawn to satisfy the legal terms of the treaty.

Because he believed Agatha was his savior.

He didn’t know the truth. Maximo didn’t remember the true details of the fiery rogue ambush five years ago on the northern neutral ridge.

He didn’t remember the blind, bleeding teenage boy begging for mercy in the mud as the thick black smoke choked his lungs and blinded his eyes.

He didn’t know that it wasn't Agatha who had dragged his heavy, broken body out of the burning, twisted wreckage of his childhood transport vehicle before it erupted into flames.

It was me.

I was the one who had ruined my hands, burning my skin to the raw flesh pulling his trapped leg free from the metal. I was the one who had dragged him across the jagged rocks into a damp, hidden cave, staying up all night whispering old, forbidden healing incantations until his raging fever finally broke.

But the next morning, when I left the cave to fetch fresh stream water to cool his brow, Agatha had stumbled upon the cave and found him awake. She took the credit. She stole the silver wolf pendant he had left behind for his savior. And she had been playing the part of his secret, untouchable love ever since, bathing in his wealth and adoration while I watched silently from the shadows, a forgotten ghost.

"Is the treaty acceptable to you, Lucia?" Maximo’s deep voice cut through my memories like a physical blade. He leaned forward slightly, slamming a heavy, leather-bound contract onto the center of the table.

I looked over at Agatha. She wasn't crying about losing him. Instead, she was hiding a smug, victorious smirk behind her silk handkerchief. She got to keep her freedom, her safety, and his eternal, distant worship, while I was being sold to a man who despised my very existence.

If I spoke up now and told him the truth, he wouldn't believe me anyway. Agatha held his silver pendant. He would just think I was a jealous, bitter omega trying to steal my sister's glory.

I swallowed the bitter taste of betrayal and reached for the silver pen.

"It is acceptable, Alpha Maximo."

"Good," Maximo muttered, standing up and instantly towering over everyone in the room. He didn't offer me a hand to seal the deal. He didn't look at me with an ounce of human warmth as he signed his own name in dark, bold ink.

"Pack your bags immediately.

You move into the Brook packhouse tonight. And do not expect a warm welcome, little wolf. You are a business contract to me, nothing more."