Chapter 5: Marry Me

Sylvia's POV

He held my gaze for one more second. Then he pushed off the wall and walked back toward the ballroom without looking back.

I stood in the empty corridor, the echo of his footsteps fading into silence, and realized I'd been holding my breath.

-

The auction ended at nine.

Guests rose from their tables, drifting toward the exits in clusters of champagne and loose conversation. Damian appeared at my side, his hand finding the small of my back.

"Ready?"

"Almost." I stepped out of his reach. "I left my clutch in the lounge area. Go ahead to the car — I'll catch up."

He studied me for a second. In my first life, I wouldn't have noticed the way his eyes narrowed. Now I caught everything.

"Don't be long," he said.

His tone was casual. His eyes weren't. For a fraction of a second, I saw the Damian I remembered from my death — cold, watchful, calculating how long before every asset I owned became his.

He turned and walked away.

I waited until he disappeared through the lobby doors. Then I turned and headed the opposite direction.

Azrael's VIP suite was at the end of a private hallway. Two guards flanked the door, both a full head taller than me.

I smoothed the front of my dress, took a breath, and knocked.

One of the guards opened the door without a word.

The suite was bigger than I expected. Dark leather furniture, a low glass table, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. A half-empty bottle of Scotch sat on the bar cart. Azrael stood by the window, a glass in one hand, his tie loosened and the top button of his shirt undone. He didn't turn around right away.

When he did, his expression was neutral. Not welcoming, not hostile. Waiting.

"Come in," he said.

The door clicked shut behind me. The room shrank.

I didn't waste time. "I want to propose a joint development of Ridgehaven. My jurisdiction rights, your infrastructure and capital network. A partnership."

He swirled the whiskey, his eyes drifting over me with open curiosity. "Does your fiancé know you're here? Alone. With me."

I shook my head. "Everything I'm proposing tonight is in my name alone. Damian has no part in it."

The corner of his mouth twitched. "So. What do you actually want from me, Sylvia?"

I crossed the room until I was close enough to drop my voice. Close enough that his scent reached me again. That sharp, clean note underneath the whiskey warmth. My body did something involuntary. A tug below my ribs, a tightening in my stomach that had nothing to do with nerves.

I leaned in until my lips were beside his ear.

"I want to take Damian down," I whispered. "Together."

I pulled back. His expression was still. Then a glint of interest crossed his face, held on a short leash.

"You surprised me tonight," he said. He set his glass on the windowsill. "At the auction. You were bold. Strategic. Nothing like the woman they talk about."

He tilted his head. "That's the only reason I agreed to see you. Most people who ask for my time aren't worth the appointment."

I waited. The other shoe was coming.

"But I won't get involved in a couple's quarrel." His voice cooled. "Whatever's happening between you and Damian — that's your business. Not mine."

He stepped toward the door. A dismissal. Clean and final.

The memory hit me without warning. Damian's hand closing around my throat. The poison burning down my chest. My father's name on a forged treason document.

My composure cracked before I could stop it. Pain. Rage. The image of his hand forcing poison past my teeth while I clawed at the sheets.

I blinked it away. Clenched my jaw until the tremor passed.

When I spoke, my voice came out flat and hard.

"This isn't a quarrel." I held his gaze. "Damian committed acts against my family that can't be undone. Can't be forgiven. What I'm offering you isn't a woman scorned — it's a strategic alliance against a man who will become your biggest threat if you do nothing."

Azrael had stopped walking. He turned back to me. Whatever he saw in my face, it made him pause. His hand dropped from the door handle.

I took the opening.

"Right now, you and Damian are evenly matched. Territory, resources, political influence — it's close. But in 29 days, I marry him. Moonriver merges with Ironclaw. Overnight, his territory doubles. His resource base triples. He stops being your equal and starts being your problem."

The room was quiet. His arms were folded across his chest, but he hadn't moved toward the door.

He was listening.

"And here's what should concern you most," I said. "You don't have a Luna. In the Alpha King race, that's a disadvantage. But Damian?" I let out a breath through my nose. "He's spent years building a public image. Devoted fiancé. Family man. Wholesome. Meanwhile, he's been sleeping with my stepmother since before we were engaged."

Azrael's expression didn't change. But he didn't reach for the door again.

"Keep talking," he said quietly.

The knot in my chest eased. Not relief. I was too far from that. But I was still here. That was enough.

"If you support me, I'll collect proof of Damian's affair and expose him at the wedding ceremony. In front of every Pack leader in attendance. His reputation won't just crack — it'll collapse. The engagement is void. The merger is canceled. His path to the throne gets cut off at the root."

I straightened my shoulders. "I cancel the wedding. I void the merger. You lose your biggest rival without lifting a finger, and I get my family back." I let the silence hold for a beat. "We both win. There is no reason to refuse this."

For a long moment, the only sound was the muffled noise of the banquet hall below.

Then Azrael laughed. Low, quiet. More air than sound.

"Interesting," he said.

He picked up his whiskey and turned the glass in his hand. The light caught the amber liquid.

"But what you're offering isn't enough."

My stomach tightened. "What do you mean?"

He set the glass down. Then he crossed the room toward me. Slow. Deliberate. Each step closing the distance I'd opened after the whisper.

He stopped close enough that I had to tilt my chin up to see his face. Close enough that his breath grazed my temple when he spoke.

"What else can you give me?"

My heart was slamming against my ribs. "Name your terms."

He leaned down, close enough that the air between us turned warm. His lips hovered beside my ear, his breath whispered against my skin, and I forgot to breathe. Then he spoke, his deep, magnetic voice striking against my eardrums.

"After you leave him — marry me."