C7

ZARIA OKOYE

“You think I am a compliant little plaything because the Syndicate forced us into a blood bond, Kael?” My tongue cuts through the thick, musk-heavy air of the VIP lounge. I lay completely still beneath him on the leather velvet sofa, mimicking a dead she-wolf, but the instant the heavy iron door clicks shut, my eyes snap open. I stare up at the black stone ceiling, a low, guttural snarl vibrating deep in my chest.

Any foolish shred of loyalty I held for Tade Mensah is completely dead now. I spent fifteen winter cycles rotting in the dirt of the Shadow Den, stupidly begging the moon for a father’s protection that was nothing but an illusion. Every single interaction with that pathetic Alpha only reopens the scars he carved into my flesh.

Years ago, Tade was nothing but a low-tier pack enforcer from the lower valleys, scraping for silver scraps. Selene, his true mate, didn't think twice about dumping him for a rival pack leader with larger territory and more enforcers.

But then Tade hunted down my mother, Nyara Okoye. He stole her ancient lineage, her sacred healing botanicals, and her bloodline secrets to construct the Mensah Clan empire. He built his entire syndicate on the broken back of a true Luna. The moment his power peaked, he locked Nyara away, discarded me like an infected omega, and crawled right back into Selene’s bed without an ounce of shame.

Now, the bastard is trading my flesh to rogue enforcers just to secure his borders. That is the final boundary. The thin thread of our biological bond is shredded. If Tade wants a blood sacrifice for his boardroom masters, I will gladly give him one. But when the dust clears, I will be the last predator standing over their corpses.

The heavy iron door creaks open again. Three massive, heavily scarred rogue wolves step into the dark room. Each one flinches in theatrical disgust as they look down at my limp form on the cushions.

“Is this the scrap we’re supposed to breed and photograph?” one grunts, his scent sour with cheap whiskey and silver-grease. “The Adebayo heir actually put his mark on this plain thing? I should ask for double the coin just for the trauma.”

“Shut your jaws,” the second one growls, unbuckling his heavy tactical belt, the metal clinking against the floorboards. “The Mensah Clan is paying us three crates of raw silver for this hit. Just shut your eyes, take the pictures, and think of the territory we’re buying.”

“She’s got the Okoye curves beneath those rags, at least,” the third mutters, his shirt hitting the floor as his chest begins to shift, grey fur sprouting along his collarbone. “Just pin her arms down so she doesn't try to shift.”

While their filthy laughter bounces off the stone walls, their trousers drop.

KAEL ADEBAYO

“Kael, are we seriously going to sit in this observation den and watch these dogs violate your legal mate?” Manley Swain roars, slamming his palms onto the iron desk and jabbing a thick finger at the glowing security monitor.

I don't give him a single drop of scent or sound. I merely recline further into my leather chair, my legs crossed, my long claws idly tracing the gold crest on my signet ring. My face is a mask of absolute winter.

Manley lets out a dry, frustrated laugh, dropping back into his seat with a dark glint in his eyes. “So this is how the great Adebayo heir plays the game? You let your new Luna get dragged through the mud by low-life mercenaries just so you can annul the bond? Think of your reputation in the Syndicate, man. When the local rags crown you the king of cuckolds, make sure you let me get the first exclusive interview.”

My amber eyes shift, locking onto Manley’s throat. My aura flares, a heavy, suffocating wave of pure Alpha pressure that freezes the breath in his lungs. “Utter one more syllable, Swain, and I will tear your vocal cords out through your chest.”

Before Manley can swallow, a horrific, flesh-tearing crash explodes through the room’s audio monitors. Every head in our private den whips toward the glass screen.

Zaria is no longer still. She is a storm of silver and bone.

In a lethal blur of teeth and claws, she explodes from the sofa. Her strike is instantaneous—her palm shatters the first rogue’s windpipe before he can even raise his hands. She spins, her leg sweeping the second brute off his feet, her heel coming down with a sickening crunch directly onto his sternum. Her movements are fluid, terrifyingly fast, and utterly professional. She isn't fighting like a panicked she-wolf; she is dismantling them like an apex executioner.

Manley’s jaw hits the floorboards. “What the hell? I thought she was some fragile, unshifted omega from the backlands. Does that look like an omega to you?”

Allan Shaw turns his sharp gaze away from the monitor and fixes it on me, a slow, dangerous realization dawning in his eyes. He finally connects the dots I’ve been tracking since last night.

Merlin Blakely’s eyes narrow, his military instincts flaring as he watches Zaria slide a hidden ceramic blade out of her boot to finish the third mercenary. This woman isn't a victim; she’s a weapon.

With all three rogue wolves bleeding out silently on the floor, Zaria pauses. She tilts her head up, her nostrils flaring as she catches the faint scent of our hidden lens in the light fixture. A flicker of cold understanding crosses her face. She reaches into her pocket, drags out her encrypted device, and types three rapid commands.

The high-definition monitor in our room instantly goes black.

“What the fuck?” Manley screams, his fingers flying across the master keyboard. “The entire sector network just got scrubbed! Who has the operational capability to override the Swain family’s secure tactical link?”

I don't answer. I slide out of my chair, my coat billowing behind me as I stride toward the private exit, my beast howling for the scent of her skin.

ZARIA OKOYE

I slide my device back into my leather coat and step over the pooling blood toward the door. I press my ear against the iron panel, my enhanced hearing picking up the steady, rhythmic breathing of Selene’s personal guard detail outside. They aren't just loitering; they are stationed to ensure no one enters, and no one leaves alive.

The moment I turn that handle, the entire Mensah estate goes on red alert.

I don't waste another heartbeat. I sprint back into the luxury bathroom, throw the reinforced glass window open, and hoist myself out into the freezing mountain air of Valoria Ridge. My bare fingers grip the icy iron drainpipe, the metal biting into my palms as I drop down, story by story, sliding my body into a narrow, dark ventilation shaft on the northern face of the building.

Just as my feet are about to drop into the lower corridor, my body locks up. My wolf bristles, every instinct screaming at the massive, lethal presence waiting directly beneath the vent.

Standing in the dim light of the hallway is Kael Adebayo. His massive shoulders are tense, his chest heaving with a fury that makes the air taste like ozone.

“Why are you inside this perimeter?” I whisper, my throat dry as I dangle from the shaft.

Kael doesn't waste breath on words. With a dark crimson fire burning in his irises, he steps forward, reaches up with his massive hands, and yanks me out of the brickwork by my waist as if I weigh nothing more than a bird.

Before I can draw breath to snap at him, he spins my body around, slamming my back against the cold stone wall and pinning both of my wrists above my head with one hand. The impact rattles my ribs, forcing a sharp, breathless gasp from my lips.

“What is wrong with your mind?” Kael growls, his face inches from mine, his scent of rain and iron flooding my senses.

“Let go of my skin!” I snarl, thrashing against his grip, though his hold is like iron bands.

“This is the seventeenth floor,” Kael morphs out, his chest pressing flush against mine, his body heat burning through my thin shirt. “You are scaling stone walls like a rogue feral. Have you completely lost your senses?”

Getting cornered by the Dominion heir wasn't part of my strategy. Looking at the raw, territorial violence in his eyes, I know he isn't just angry—he is ready to claim or kill. I bite my lower lip, forcing my heart rate down, and look away from his gaze. “Whatever I do to survive my family is my own damn business. We had an explicit pact, Kael. Your pack business remains yours, and my bloodline remains mine. You have no right to interfere.”

Not my business? The words leave her lips, and my inner wolf roars in pure defiance. I am her legal Alpha, her fated match by pack law, and this crazy she-wolf expects me to sit upstairs while she hangs off stone ledges like a lunatic? The sheer audacity of this female is breathtaking. Every line of her throat is screaming rebellion. It is time she learns exactly what happens when you test an Adebayo’s patience.

I can feel the thick wave of Alpha dominance rolling off his skin, the pressure so intense it makes my bones ache. My heart gives a sudden, erratic skip. I realize, a second too late, that I’ve pushed the beast too far. I try to soften my posture, forcing a small, tight smile onto my lips as I tilt my chin up. “Let’s just negotiate—”

Kael cuts the negotiation short. He slams his mouth down onto mine with a force that bruises my lips. It is a dominant, unforgiving claim, his tongue forcing its way past my teeth before I can even form a counter-strike. A terrifying wave of heat rushes through my core, completely short-circuiting my defenses. It is intoxicating, primal, and entirely wipes out my ability to shift or strike back.

By the time he pulls back, my lips are burning and swollen, my breath coming in ragged gasps. My hands are shaking against his tactical vest as I try to shove his chest away. “You are out of your absolute mind. Who gave you the authority to taste me like that?”

Kael keeps his hand locked around my waist, pulling my hips flush against his thighs. His voice drops into a low, terrifyingly dark purr. “Now tell me, little bird—do I have the right to look after my investment?”

I glare at him through the dark, my thoughts still a tangled mess. “Step back before I find out if an Adebayo can bleed from the throat.”

Kael lets out a rough, amused chuckle. “Oh? And how do you plan to manage that? Are you going to break my neck the way you did those three dogs in the lounge?”

I freeze, my eyes widening slightly as the truth hits me—he saw every single strike on the secure feed. “If you want a personal demonstration, Alpha, I’m happy to show you how fast I can move.”

Before our claws can drop, Manley slides into the narrow corridor, his hands raised like a referee at a blood-match. “Alright, break it up! You two are newlyweds, not pit fighters. Save that delicious friction for the sheets. Let’s go down to the private den and clear the air with some bourbon, yeah?”

KAEL ADEBAYO

We walk back into the secured VIP room, the air between Zaria and me still crackling like an unexploded charge. Manley doesn't dare look at her sideways now. In fact, he is pouring her a glass with the kind of deference usually reserved for a visiting high Luna. Once an Alpha like me stakes his claim, the rest of the pack falls into line.

“Here you go, Zaria,” Manley says, sliding a crystal tumbler across the wood. “Something to soothe the nerves.”

Zaria looks down at the liquor, her eyes completely unreadable. “I don't consume alcohol.”

Without a word, I reach across the table, grab the fresh juice pitcher, and fill a clean glass to the brim before sliding it into her hand. She takes it without a word, taking a slow, elegant sip.

Allan and Manley stare at us in absolute silence. The untouchable heir of the Dominion, serving a baseline stray like a common maid. The contrast is absurd—I am covered in tactical gear and pack gold, while she looks like a plain, forgotten orphan in her oversized coat. Yet the invisible thread connecting us is so thick the entire room can smell it.

Manley leans forward, his curiosity overriding his caution. “So, Zaria... word on the Ridge is that you’ve been locked in the Shadow Den since you were five. Where did a baseline wolf learn to crack skulls with that kind of precision?”

“Self-defense tutorials,” Zaria says smoothly, her face a perfect mask of innocence.

Manley doesn't buy the lie for a second. That kind of lethal reflex doesn't come from a screen. But he looks at my clenched fist and wisely decides to keep his mouth shut.

Suddenly, Merlin Blakely tilts his head back, draining his bourbon in one massive swallow. In a split second, his wrist snaps—and the heavy crystal glass flies through the air, aimed directly between Zaria’s eyes.

Allan and Manley turn pale, the attack coming too fast for an ordinary wolf to intercept. Merlin was a black-ops assassin for the High Council; his speed is unmatched.

But inches from Zaria’s nose, my hand cuts through the air, catching the glass mid-flight.

My knuckles flex, and the crystal shatters with a sickening explosion of shards, the pieces raining down onto the carpet. I lock my stare onto Merlin, my fangs extending as my inner wolf demands his blood. “Give me one reason why I shouldn't take your head for that, Merlin.”

We’ve bled on the same battlefields since we were pups, but he just crossed the ultimate pack line.

Merlin doesn't even blink. He merely shrugs his massive shoulders. “Calm down, Kael. The female fights like a seasoned mercenary despite her ridiculous claim. That kind of defensive twitch? It is hardwired into the muscle memory through years of killing. I wanted to see if she would dodge.”

My jaw sets, a low growl rattling the table. “You think I care about your little tests?”

“She is a walking hazard, Kael,” Merlin says, his voice clipped and empty of emotion. “My predator instincts are never wrong, and everything about this girl screams assassin. You honestly believe a she-wolf kept in an isolation cellar for fifteen years magically emerges with the skills of a high-tier enforcer? She is hiding a secondary identity that will bring the High Council down on our territory. This entire marriage smells like a setup.”

Merlin steps closer, his gaze dropping to the blood on my hand. “And let’s not forget what happened to your father when he trusted an Okoye...”