Chapter 4: It Was Alpha Zed Alone

  Laura Sam Halewood’s POV

  The car rolled through the gates of Thornhold Domain before dawn, the sky still streaked deep indigo and faint silver. Beta Asher drove steady, quiet, the same way he did everything, like he’d mapped every turn, every risk, every detail long before we left the hospital.

  We didn’t talk much on the way. I’d said goodbye to Chloe hours before, sat holding her hand while she slept, memorized the way her chest rose and fell slowly, the faint sketch of a cat she’d drawn on her wrist. That was the only reason I was here. The only thing that mattered. Everything else, the rules, the walls, the man waiting at the center of it all, was just the deal. Just the price I’d agreed to pay.

  When we pulled up to the main house, it was larger than I’d pictured, solid stone and dark glass. No fancy frills, no unnecessary shine. Exactly like the man who owned it.

  “This is the private west wing,” Beta Asher said as we walked inside, leading the way down a wide, quiet hall. “Separate entrance. Separate staff. You’ll see almost no one unless you choose to. Exactly as Alpha Zed promised.”

  He stopped at a set of double doors and pushed them open. The space inside was bright, spacious, fully furnished: bedroom, sitting area, small kitchenette, even a little balcony looking out over the woods. Everything felt clean, quiet, private. Like a world of its own.

  “All medical records, test results, and your full physical clearance are already on file,” he added, setting my bags down by the dresser. “Every requirement you met before is still valid, no rescreening, no repeats. Everything checks out exactly as it was.”

  I breathed out slowly. Good. That was one less thing to fight over.

  “Alpha Zed will be by shortly to go over final expectations,” Beta Asher continued, then gave that faint, dry lift of the mouth I was starting to recognize. “Fair warning, he doesn’t waste words. And he watches everything.”

  “I don’t waste time either,” I said.

  He nodded, like that was exactly what he’d expected. “Good. You’ll fit right in.”

  He left then, pulling the doors shut behind him, and for a minute I just stood there, alone, in a place that wasn’t home, bound to a deal that would change everything. I walked to the window, pressed my palm to the cool glass. I could leave, a small voice whispered. You can still walk away.

  Then I remembered Chloe’s laugh, her cough that came sharper every week, the doctor’s quiet warning that time was running out. And I straightened my shoulders. No. I wasn’t running this time.

  The door opened half an hour later. I didn’t jump. Didn’t twist my hands in my shirt. I turned slow, and there he was, Alpha Zed, filling the doorway, broad and dark and heavy with that quiet power that seemed to wrap around every room he stepped into. He didn’t rush. Didn’t stare. Just walked in and stopped a few feet away, close enough to feel the heat rolling off him, far enough to keep the wall up.

  “Everything is as agreed?” he asked, voice low, steady, no extra softness.

  “It is,” I said. “My terms. Your terms. All of it.”

  His gaze swept over me once, thorough, unreadable, checking if I was calm, checking if I was sure, checking if I wasn’t going to bolt again.

  “We start where we left off,” he said. “All prior evaluations stand. You know what is expected. We proceed until conception, consistent, steady, no shortcuts. Only the head of the medical team confirms it. No exceptions. No turning back.”

  “I know,” I said, sharp and clear. “And I know my boundaries still stand too. Every single one.”

  The corner of his jaw tightened, just for a second, that same flicker of respect I’d seen before. “I don’t break what I agree to, Laura.”

  He stepped closer like he was giving me every chance to step back if I wanted to. He didn’t touch me. Just stood there, dark eyes holding mine, and I could feel it anyway, every unsaid thing, every line he was already struggling to keep.

  “You’re here now,” he said, quieter, rougher. “Stay here. Stay safe. And remember, this stays strictly what we agreed.”

  He said it like he was reminding himself as much as me.

  “I remember,” I told him. “Do you?”

  For a moment, something flashed in his eyes, heat, hunger, something wild he fought hard to keep down. Then it was gone, locked back behind that control he held so tight. He didn’t answer. Just nodded once, sharp, and turned to leave.

  I thought that was it. I thought he’d walk out the door and I’d have time to breathe, time to settle, time to pretend none of this felt like more than it was. But he stopped with his hand on the frame, and glanced back over his shoulder.

  “Dinner. Seven. I’ll send someone.”

  And then he was gone.

  I stood there long after the doors clicked shut, heart thudding steady and fast in my chest. That was how it would be, I realized. Sharp lines. Clear rules. And this constant, burning pull that threatened to burn every single one of them down.

  I spent the rest of the day unpacking the few things I’d brought: clothes, Chloe’s drawing taped to the bedside lamp, the small stuffed rabbit she’d given me for luck. I walked the rooms, learned where everything was, checked the locks, checked the exits. Just like old habits. Stay alert. Know your ground.

  Around six, I changed into something simple, comfortable, something that felt like me, not some perfect surrogate, just Laura. I sat by the window and waited, telling myself over and over: this is for Chloe. This is the deal. Don’t forget.

  At seven exactly, the door opened. But it wasn’t a staff member standing there.

  It was Alpha Zed. Alone.

  And the look on his face, dark, intent, stripped of half the control he wore like armor, told me everything had just changed.

  “There’s something you need to know,” he said, voice low and grim, shutti

ng the door firmly behind him. “Word travels fast. And someone already knows exactly why you’re here.”