Chapter 2 – The Ruthless Proposal

The fog clung heavy over the valley that morning, curling between the trees like pale fingers. Bella Hart sat stiffly at the table, her hands folded tight in her lap to stop their trembling. The debt notice still lay before her, its crimson seal cracked open like a wound that could never be mended.

She hadn’t slept. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw silver eyes in the dark—cold, unyielding, stripping her bare with a single glance.

The world outside seemed cruelly normal. A truck rumbled distantly along the trade road. A neighbor’s dog barked. Somewhere in the distance, wolves howled their dawn call, a sound that once made her shiver but now only made her stomach turn.

Humans and wolves lived side by side in Stormfang territory. She had grown up watching warriors patrol the markets, their broad shoulders marked with the pack’s silver insignia, their presence both a shield and a threat. Wolves could shift freely, their howls echoing in the night sky while humans locked their doors and prayed not to draw attention. Cohabitation had always been fragile—a balance of power where humans endured, and wolves ruled.

Now, she was about to be bound to that world forever.

Her father stirred in his chair near the hearth, his breathing shallow. He looked more fragile in the morning light, each cough seeming to hollow him further. His hazel eyes lifted to hers, full of sorrow. “Bella,” he rasped, voice cracking. “You mustn’t do this. There has to be another way.”

“There isn’t,” she whispered. “You know there isn’t.”

The door opened without warning.

Lucian Blackthorn stepped inside as though the cottage belonged to him. And in truth, it did. Everything in Stormfang lands belonged to him.

He removed his cloak this time, tossing it across a chair. Without the heavy fur, his form was even more imposing. His black leather tunic hugged his broad chest, the silver emblem of his pack gleaming at his belt. His raven hair caught the dim light, and his scar—sharpened against the curve of his jaw—made him look more warlord than man.

His silver eyes swept the room, landing first on the parchment, then on Bella, before finally fixing on her father. “You had your chance,” he said, his voice steady, even. “Now the debt will be paid.”

Leonard Hart tried to rise, his frail body trembling. “Alpha—please. Spare her. She’s human. Your wolves will never accept her—”

Lucian cut him off with a sharp flick of his hand. “Weakness is not my concern. Stormfang does not make exceptions for frailty, whether of men or mortals.”

Bella felt her father’s shame like a blade in her own chest. She rose, her gray-green eyes flashing despite the tremor in her body. “If this is about payment, then say it plainly. What is it you want from us?”

Lucian’s gaze locked on hers, and the air thickened, charged with something she couldn’t name. His lips curved into something cruel. “You.”

The word struck harder than thunder.

Her father’s breath hitched. “No. You cannot mean—”

Lucian ignored him. He took a slow step forward, closing the space between him and Bella. “Your father’s debt is too great to repay in coin. So I will take what he values most.” His silver eyes burned into hers, leaving her unable to look away. “You will stand as my Luna.”

Her heart stuttered, her breath catching painfully in her chest. To be a human in a wolf’s household was shame enough. To be bound to their Alpha as Luna? It was unthinkable. Scandalous. Dangerous.

“Impossible,” she whispered.

Lucian’s expression didn’t shift. “Nothing is impossible when I decide it. The ceremony will be held tomorrow in Stormfang Hall.” His gaze raked over her trembling frame. “You will wear what is given to you. You will speak the vows required of you. And when it is done, you will be Luna by name, and nothing more.”

Her father broke then, tears spilling down his cheeks. “Bella, no. Don’t do this—”

Lucian’s head turned, his voice slicing through the man’s sobs. “Do you wish her blood to pay your debt instead?”

Bella’s heart pounded so hard she thought it might break her ribs. She looked at her father, at his frailty, at the cloth stained with blood in his shaking hands. Then she looked back at Lucian—merciless, certain, the storm in his silver eyes waiting for her surrender.

There was no way out.

Her voice cracked as she whispered, “I’ll do it.”

For the first time, Lucian leaned down close enough that she could feel the heat of his breath. His hand brushed the edge of the table beside her, trapping her in place though he didn’t touch her. His voice was low, dangerous, meant for her alone.

“Do not mistake this arrangement for affection,” he murmured. “You will never have my love, human. Never.”

Her throat burned, but she lifted her chin anyway, refusing to let him see her break. “Then I’ll survive without it.”

For the briefest moment, something flickered in his eyes—a spark of anger, or something darker. Then it was gone.

He straightened, pulling his cloak back over his shoulders, his voice as cold and final as a death knell. “Tomorrow. Dusk. Stormfang Hall.”

And with that, he turned and strode out into the fog.

The door slammed shut, leaving only silence behind him.

Bella stood frozen, her chest aching, her father’s sobs breaking the quiet. The fire hissed and sputtered, smoke curling like ghosts above the hearth.

Tomorrow, she would walk into the heart of Stormfang—not as a woman, not even as herself—but as a payment collected.

And Alpha Lucian Blackthorn would stand waiting to claim her.