FAZER LOGIN
Bron
Someone's going to die tonight if he doesn't shut his mouth.
"You heard me, Alpha." The guy in front of me is drunk, swaying, jabbing a finger at my chest like he's got a death wish. Some cousin of a random Conrad, invited because his family owns half the docks. "Your daddy's selling you off like a prize bull. Everyone in this room knows it.” He says.
I don't say anything. I just grab his wrist before his finger touches me, and squeeze until I hear the bone creak.
He goes white. Drops to one knee, gasping.
"Say it again," I tell him.
He doesn’t. Of course he doesn’t.
I let go. He scrambles back into the crowd holding his wrist, and nobody around us even reacts, because this is normal. This is just Tuesday for an Alpha. Somebody always thinks they can test you at a party like this, especially when there's an open bar and three hundred people watching. I straighten my jacket and go back to hating my life in peace.
Because tonight I'm getting engaged. To a woman I don't want. In front of everyone I know.
"You good?" Ronan appears at my elbow, watching the guy limp away. "You look like you want to kill somebody.” He says.
"I already thought about it.” I let out.
"Cool, cool. Try not to, though. Selene's dad is already looking for reasons to be mad at you."
He's not wrong. My wolf's been pacing under my skin all night, snapping and restless, like something's wrong and he can't tell me what. I figured it was just the wedding thing. The forced-smile, sell-your-life-for-peace thing my father set up for me two years ago and never allowed me to say no.
I didn't know it was about to get a lot worse.
The ballroom's packed. Black tie, real diamonds, a string quartet nobody's listening to. Officially it's a gala, a "cultural heritage evening," whatever that means. Really, it's two things happening at once: my engagement announcement, and the Moon Ceremony, the one night a year every wolf who just turned nineteen finds out if they've got a mate somewhere out there. Half the room's here for that. The other half's here to watch my father sell me to the Conrad family for a business merger, dressed up in a tux.
Serena shows up at nine sharp, because Conrad people are always on time. She's beautiful, obviously: black dress, diamonds, hair perfect. Her dad's got a hand on her back like he's walking a product down a runway. She looks at me across the room, and I feel nothing. Not hate. Not want. Just nothing, which honestly might be worse.
At nine-fifteen, Adrien Conrad finds me at the bottom of the stairs. Hand out for the photo his people have been planning for a week. I take it. Phones go up around us, a dozen at once.
"Alpha Ashborn." His grip's too tight. Testing me, like always. "Shall we?"
I open my mouth to say the lines my father's lawyers wrote for me. And then something happens that's never happened to me in my whole life. It hits like fire. Right under my ribs, sudden and vicious, like someone stabbed me and lit the wound. I stop breathing. My knees actually buckle for a second, in front of three hundred people, in front of every phone in the room.
"Bron?" Ronan's voice goes sharp behind me. His hand's on my shoulder like he's about to catch me.
I can't answer him. The burn's climbing up my chest now, into my throat, and under the pain there's something else. A pull. A direction. Like I've been a compass my whole life and just found north for the first time.
My wolf slams forward so hard I almost hit the floor. Mate. Not even a word, really. Just a fact, hot and absolute, coming off that burning spot under my ribs. Mate. Here. Close. Now.
I've spent my whole life thinking that feeling was a fairy tale people told each other so arranged marriages hurt less. I stood on this same terrace six years ago and felt nothing. Figured I was one of the unlucky ones, like my father before me. And now it's happening in the single worst room it could happen in, in front of the single worst audience, and my hand's still locked in Adrien Conrad's.
"Alpha." His voice sharpens. He felt something change in my grip. "Is there a problem?"
Yeah. There's a massive problem. I'm standing in a ballroom built to broadcast my engagement to the world, about to promise myself to a woman I don't want, and somewhere in this exact room, right now, is whoever my wolf just decided belongs to me.
My hand opens on its own. I don't tell it to. Adrien's face goes from confused to cold in about half a second; he understands what's happening before I even say a word.
"Give me a second," I say. My voice doesn't even sound like mine.
I turn, and the pull turns with me, yanking my focus across the room like there's a hook set behind my ribs. Toward the group of nineteen-year-olds by the terrace doors, the ones who came tonight hoping for exactly this. Council members' daughters. Ronan's cousin in green. A couple of girls from the security team's families already grabbing each other's hands, excited.
My wolf snarls at every single one of them. Wrong. Not them, but closer.
I take a step, and the burn gets worse, bad enough that the room actually tilts. Sound goes far away. My vision sharpens the way it does right before a shift. Somebody gasps, loud, cutting straight through the music, and I realize a second too late that it's because my eyes have gone silver. The mark of a real bond. Visible to every single phone in the room. Being uploaded right now, probably, to God knows how many accounts.
"He found her," somebody whispers, and it spreads through the crowd like a match dropped in dry grass. He found her, he found her.
Except I haven't. I'm standing in the middle of my own engagement party, everyone staring, Adrien's face gone the color of ash, and I can't even tell where the pull's actually taking me. It's not the terrace. It's not the girls in silk waiting for their moment. It's past all of them. Further back, toward the kitchen hallway, where the catering staff lines the wall in plain black to watch a ceremony they're not allowed to be part of.
That's not possible. It's not allowed to be possible. No Ashborn Alpha in three generations has had the bond mark somebody outside the ranked families.
I look anyway.
For half a second, before the crowd shifts and blocks her, I see a girl frozen by the kitchen hallway. Gray hoodie instead of catering black, like she wandered in from somewhere she wasn't supposed to be. Wide eyes. Silver-gray, almost glowing, locked right on mine like she already knows she's been caught.
Then she's gone. Vanished through the service door before I can even be sure I really saw her. My wolf goes dead silent. The burn under my ribs settles into something worse than pain.
Certainty.
Adrien's voice cuts through the ringing in my ears, low and furious, meant just for me. "Alpha Ashborn. I believe you owe me an explanation. And I believe several hundred phones just recorded whatever that was."
I don't move. I don't look away from the door she disappeared through.
Three hundred people just watched their Alpha's eyes turn silver for a girl in a kitchen hoodie. By morning, everyone else will have watched it too.
And I don't even know her name.
WrenI don't remember the walk back to staff housing. One second we're outside the pack house with the party still glowing behind us, and the next I'm sitting on the edge of my own bed with my shoes still on, staring at a wall I've stared at a thousand times before and somehow don't recognize right now.Briar hasn't stopped talking since we got in the door.“…and I mean it, Wren, I've never seen anything like it. You didn't even flinch. Adrien freaking Conrad, standing right there, and you just looked him dead in the eye and torched the whole thing down. I would've thrown up. I think I actually might throw up right now just from watching it happen. I'm serious, my hands are still shaking…”“Briar." I let out. “…and Serena's face, oh my god, did you see her face? She looked like somebody slapped her; I don't even think she knows what to do with herself right now, and Bron just standing there like…”"Briar."She stops. Finally looks at me properly instead of pacing a track into my floo
BronRejection doesn't feel like heartbreak. I want to be clear about that, because every story I ever heard growing up made it sound like heartbreak, like something soft and sad you cry about in private. It's not that. It's like getting gutted.The second the words leave her mouth, something inside my chest just rips. Not metaphorically. I actually feel it tear, deep under my ribs, right where the bond's been burning since the second I saw her across that ballroom, and my knees nearly buckle right there in front of Adrien Conrad and his security and my own fiancée standing three feet away watching it happen.I don't fall. I refuse to give him that. But I can't speak either. I just stand there while she turns and walks out the door, and every step she takes away from me feels like something's being pulled out of my chest by the root."Well." Adrien's voice cuts through the ringing in my ears, satisfied in a way that makes me want to put my fist through the wall behind him. "That resol
WrenAdrien Conrad fills the doorway as if he owns it, and behind him, I count three more. Two security types in dark suits. And Serena, standing just behind her father with her arms crossed and her face like carved stone, staring at me like she's trying to figure out what kind of insect I am.I step back on instinct. Bron's hand catches mine before I get more than a few inches, pulling me half behind him like his body's a wall he's already decided to put between me and everyone in that doorway."Get out of my study," Bron says. His voice has gone flat and cold, nothing like it sounded five minutes ago."Your study." Adrien laughs, short and humorless. "You mean the study where I just watched my daughter's fiancé put his hands on a member of the kitchen staff.""She's not staff." The lie comes out of Bron so fast and so smooth I almost believe it myself. "She's a guest.""Don't." Adrien's voice cracks like a whip. "Don't stand there and insult my intelligence on top of everything else
WrenI turn around expecting security. A guard. Somebody big, somebody scary, somebody sent to drag me back downstairs and hand me over to whoever wants to yell at me first.I do not expect a woman standing three steps down in a pale blue dress, hands folded in front of her like she's waiting for tea instead of chasing down a servant girl at midnight.She's older, maybe mid-fifties, with silver-blonde hair loose around her shoulders instead of pinned up like every other woman at that party. Her eyes are washed-out blue, and they're locked on me with an intensity that doesn't match how calm the rest of her looks, like she's been waiting her whole life for this exact moment and is somehow still not sure she believes it's happening.Briar steps in front of me anyway, arms out, because Briar doesn't care who you are, apparently, even if you're a middle-aged woman in pearls."You're not taking her anywhere," Briar says."I'm not here to take her anywhere she doesn't want to go." The woman'
WrenI feel it before I understand what it is.One second I'm standing where I'm supposed to stand, back against the wall in the kitchen hallway with the rest of the catering staff, watching some rich guy get engaged through a gap in the doorway because Briar wanted to see the dress. The next second there's a burn under my ribs so bad I almost drop the tray I'm still holding."Ow," I say out loud, stupid, because that's the best my brain can come up with."You okay?" Briar's next to me, elbow against mine. She doesn't look at me yet, still watching the ballroom, still chewing gum like nothing's wrong."Something hurts,” I say. "Something hurts," she repeats, flat, like I said something dumb. Then she actually looks at me, and her face changes fast. "Wren. You're white as a sheet."I don't answer her because I can't. The burn's spreading now, up into my chest, up into my throat, and under the pain there's this pull, this yank, like a fishhook caught right behind my sternum and somethi
BronMy father finds me in the west study eleven minutes after the music stops.Eleven minutes. That's how long it took the band to fumble back into a song, how long it took Adrien to smile at the cameras and say something smooth about "overwhelming emotion" like I'd just teared up over a toast. That's how long the security team took to clear the ballroom and get me out of three hundred pairs of eyes. Eleven minutes, and my father still walks in like he's been standing outside the whole time, arms crossed, face like a closed door."Sit down," he says. I don't sit down. "Bron.""I'm fine standing.” I let out. He looks at me the way he's looked at me my whole life, like I'm a project that keeps almost working. He's still in his tux, tie loosened, one hand braced on the back of the leather chair like he's deciding whether to throw it at me or sit in it."Do you have any idea," he says, low, "what you just did to this family?""I didn't do anything. It happened to me.” I reply. "That's







