THE AGREEMENT

CHAPTER 005

THE AGREEMENT

WILLA

The guards lead me to Alpha Varg, and I mask my slight tremble as I stand head bowed on the floor before him.

"Did you succeed, Willa?" His Alpha tone grounds me, and I can only manage a frightened nod.

Alpha Varg lets out a deep, booming laugh that echoes off the timber walls of the pack hall. The heavy tension suffocating the room breaks for a split second, and the surrounding elders nod in dark approval.

Beside the throne, my brother Miller stands straight, his hand resting on the hilt of his broadsword.

His face is completely unreadable to the rest of the pack, but I catch the subtle tightening in his jaw and the quiet worry flickering deep in his dark eyes as he looks down at me. He knows what I went through last night.

"Good," Alpha Varg growls, leaning forward on his stone seat, resting his huge forearms on his knees.

"Go down to his quarters. Bring the Southern prince before me for a personal interrogation. I want to see if his pride is still intact after being mounted by a Northern female."

"Yes, my King," I say softly, bowing my head lower before stepping backwards out of the hall.

I head straight for the guarded quarters. My knees are still a little sore from last night, but I keep my posture upright, refusing to let any of the watching warriors see a single trace of weakness.

When I push open the door to Garrik's room, he is already awake, sitting on the edge of the bed. His chest is wrapped in clean linen bandages, his eyes cold and sharp as they lock onto mine.

He doesn't say a word as I give him the order. He stands up, his jaw clenched tight, and lets the heavy guards escort him back up to the pack hall.

I wait outside the doors for what feels like hours.

I don't know what Garrik says to the King behind those closed doors. I don't know what harsh words or bitter terms the two Alphas exchange.

But when the doors finally swing open, Garrik steps out first, his expression completely livid, his amber eyes burning with dark rage.

Right behind him, Alpha Varg steps out with a dark grin.

To everyone's shock, the King formally announces the end of Garrik's severe imprisonment. His silver restraints are not put back on, and his solitary lockup in the dark cells is officially over.

I stare at Garrik's rigid back as the guards lead him away to a larger, furnished room in the upper part of the pack house.

I assume his stubborn attitude has finally softened under the King's pressure. He must have given Alpha Varg something he wanted to earn that freedom.

Once the main hall clears out, Miller walks over to me, grabbing my shoulder and pulling me aside into a quiet corridor away from prying ears.

He looks down at my face, his eyes searching mine with worry in his. "Are you in pain, Willa?"

I know what he means. He’s asking about my body, about what happened between my legs with that Southern beast last night.

I swallow the dull ache deep in my core, keeping my voice calm and steady. "It's all right, Miller. I'm fine. I'm willing to do it if it helps secure our standing."

Miller lets out a long breath, his hand moving up to gently stroke my hair—a rare, rare sign of affection from a man who has known nothing but blood and killing his entire life.

"Garrik is finally wavering," Miller says in a low, gravelly whisper, his face turning dead serious. "The King saw it in his eyes today. We have to press the advantage before he changes his mind or tries something foolish."

I look at him, waiting for my next instruction.

"Alpha Varg ordered you to move into his new room immediately," Miller continued, gripping my arm tightly.

"You will live with him night and day. Serve his meals, watch his every step, and bear his child as soon as humanly possible. Make sure that seed takes root in your womb, Willa."

"I understand," I say without hesitation. "I'll pack my things."

An hour later, I push the door to Garrik's new, spacious room.

The room is far better than the dungeon, furnished with thick fur carpets, a low wooden table, and a large, comfortable bed in the corner. But the second I step inside, a shadow moves at lightning speed.

Before I can even react, Garrik’s massive hand shoots out, his calloused fingers slamming around my throat and pinning me hard against the wall behind me.

His chest is heaving, his amber eyes glowing with a feral, dangerous light, his breath hot against my face.

I don't panic, gasp or struggle against his grip. I look up into his furious eyes, keeping my voice completely flat and calm.

"Have your wounds healed enough for you to attack me?" I ask softly, my eyes dropping to the white bandages wrapped tight around his ribs. "Are you not afraid of reopening them and bleeding out again?"

Garrik’s grip on my neck tightens for a second, his jaw working as he grits his teeth so hard I can hear them grind.

"Where are my men?" he rasps out, his voice thick with raw desperation and rage. "Are my warriors alive, Willa? Answer me!"

"They are alive," I say directly, looking him dead in the eye. "They are being held in the lower part of the pack house."

"I demand to see them!" he growls, leaning in so close his split lip almost touches my cheek. "Take me to my men right fucking now!"

I bring both my hands up, place my palms firmly against his broad, bandaged chest, and shove him away with all the force in my body.

Garrik staggers back a step, his body still weakened from the aconite torture.

I ignore his murderous glare, walk right past him over to the big bed in the corner, and sit down on the soft fur mattress. I cross my arms over my chest and look up at him.

"You can see them," I say plainly, my tone unreadable.

"But I have a condition."

Garrik lets out a harsh, mocking laugh, taking a step toward the bed, his dark brows drawn low. "A condition? You think you're in a position to negotiate with me, woman? Name it! I'll agree to whatever bullshit you want if it means seeing my warriors alive!"

I lean back slightly against the wooden headboard, locking my eyes onto his.

"Have a child with me," I tell him flatly, without a single trace of shame or hesitation. "Give me your bloodline. Once the child is safely born from my body, I will take you directly to see your men."

Garrik's face instantly contorts in rage. "Are you fucking insane?" he snarls, shoving a hand through his dark hair as he paces back and forth in front of the bed like a caged beast.

"A pregnancy takes nine goddamn months! I'm not waiting almost a year in enemy territory to confirm if my loyal commanders are breathing! That's too fucking long!"

He stops pacing, turning around to glare at me, his chest rising and falling violently.

I stare at him for a quiet second, considering his words. He has a point. An Alpha Prince won't sit quietly for nine months without snapping.

"Fine," I say calmly, shifting my position on the bed.

"Then show some good faith first. We will try for ten days straight. Ten days of making sure your seed gets into me, and I'll talk to my brother about giving you a glance at your men."

Garrik freezes, staring at me as if I've completely lost my mind. "Ten days?"

Before he can utter another word of protest or throw another spat insult, I move.

I leap off the mattress, grab him by his broad shoulders, and throw my weight into his chest, knocking him flat back onto the soft bed before he can regain his balance.

I swing my leg over his hips, straddling his waist, and pin his wrists down against the furs.

Garrik gasps in surprise, his eyes wide as he looks up at me from beneath my body.

I look down at his hard chest, a cold, determined smirk touching my lips for the very first time.

"Now let me inspect the goods first.”