Rules of the game

Anya's POV

The air inside Azkarion’s private office, located on the upper level of The Iron Den, was so thick it could almost be tasted. The scent of leather furniture, old wood, and the persistent aroma of pine and winter storms that clung to the Alpha filled my lungs. Although my pulse had slowed slightly after the initial shock of his proximity, my body remained on high alert. Every human instinct I possessed urged me to step back, but the image of my younger brother lying in that cold hospital bed kept my feet firmly planted on the floor.

Azkarion walked slowly toward his heavy mahogany desk. He sat down, folded his hands over the polished surface, and watched me with those golden eyes that gradually shifted back to their original storm-gray tone. His face returned to that unreadable, distant, and cold mask that defined him so well.

“Sit down, Anya,” he ordered. It was not a request; it was a command that my body, out of sheer fear, wanted to obey immediately.

I sat in the leather chair opposite him, crossed my legs, and held my chin high. I could not let him see even a single crack in my armor.

“Your boldness is impressive, I’ll give you that,” he began, pulling a document from a locked drawer. “But boldness will not save your life when you are surrounded by five hundred bloodthirsty wolves who can smell fear from miles away. If we are going to do this, you must understand that you are not my wife. You are a state secret. A loose end that, if it comes undone, I will be forced to cut myself.”

He slid the paper toward me. It was the contract. The black printed words looked like a death sentence, yet they were also the only ticket to salvation for my family.

“Read it,” he said. “Out loud. I want to make sure every word is burned into your human mind.”

I took the document. My fingers brushed the paper, and I felt his gaze fixed on my hands, searching for the slightest tremor. I took a deep breath and began to read in a steady voice:

“Temporary Marriage Alliance Contract. First: This agreement shall last exactly three hundred and sixty-five days from the date of signing. Once the Alpha’s position is secured before the Ancestral Council, a divorce on grounds of irreconcilable differences shall be processed.”

“That ensures you won’t be trapped in my world forever,” Azkarion interrupted, his tone dangerously soft. “After one year, you take your money and leave. Continue.”

“Second: The First Lady, or Luna, shall reside in the main mansion of the Hunters pack. She shall share the Alpha’s quarters due to the constant surveillance of the staff and the pack’s Betas. Any intimate physical contact outside of public appearances is strictly prohibited, unless it is absolutely necessary to maintain the pretense before third parties.”

A lump formed in my throat as I read that part. Sleeping in the same room as an Alpha predator every night was going to be psychological torture. I looked up at Azkarion over the paper. His expression remained unchanged, as if we were discussing the price of a piece of land.

“Any objection to sharing my space, little human?” he asked, tilting his head slightly. “My employees are not fools. They can smell the air in rooms. If we do not share a bed, they will know something is wrong before the first sunrise.”

“I can handle it,” I lied, swallowing hard before continuing. “Third: Absolute institutional loyalty is required. Any suspicious interaction, hidden alliance, or behavior that compromises the Alpha’s authority or exposes the true nature of the First Lady shall be considered high treason, resulting in the forfeiture of all financial payment and granting the Alpha the legal right to dispose of the offender’s life.”

“In simple terms,” he added, leaning forward. “If you betray me, or if your actions lead to our discovery, you are dead. My wolves will hunt you for sport, and I will not lift a finger to stop them. Do you understand clearly?”

“Perfectly,” I replied, holding his icy gaze. I set the contract down on the table. “And what about my payment? I do not see the figures for the transfer to my brother’s hospital.”

Azkarion picked up a golden fountain pen, wrote a figure in elegant script at the bottom of the document, and held it out to me. My eyes widened. It was three times the amount I needed. Not only would it pay off my brother’s debts, but it would also ensure we lived comfortably anywhere in the world we chose to hide after this year.

“Half will be transferred to the pack’s hospital the moment you sign,” he said. “The other half will be released on the three hundred and sixty-fifth day. Do we have a deal?”

I took the pen. The weight of the metal felt heavy in my hand. I knew that by signing, I was selling my soul to the devil, but watching my brother die was not an option. With a quick and decisive stroke, I signed the document.

Azkarion gave a half-smile, one that did not reach his dark eyes. He took the paper, signed it right next to my name, and returned it to the drawer.

“Welcome to hell, Anya Blackwood. Because from tomorrow on, that will be your name to the world,” he said, standing up abruptly. His large frame once again cast a shadow over the office light. “The Council meets in three days. Tomorrow itself, I will present you to my inner circle at the mansion. You need new clothes, you need to learn our customs, and above all, you need to triple the dosage of that scent blocker of yours. It smells like artificial desperation.”

Before I could respond, the heavy wooden door of the office swung open with a crash, slamming against the wall with such force that I jumped in my chair.

A tall man with light brown hair and bright, wild yellow eyes entered without asking permission. His mere presence exuded an unyielding hostility that turned the air instantly cold. He was the pack’s Beta, the second-in-command, and the main suspect in the plot to overthrow Azkarion.

The man fixed his gaze directly on me, sniffing the air roughly. His nostrils flared, and a look of deep disdain and suspicion crossed his face. The scent blocker was doing its job, but the instinct of a high-ranking wolf was almost impossible to fool completely.

“So this is the supposed Luna you’ve brought from the southern territories, Azkarion,” the Beta growled, taking a threatening step toward me, completely ignoring the warning the Alpha had begun to issue. “She smells strange. Too clean. Too… quiet. I can’t catch any trace of her wolf side anywhere.”

I stood up slowly, forcing my legs not to tremble as the wolf approached too closely, invading my personal space. My heart began to beat so hard that I feared the sound would give me away. His gaze settled on my throat, exactly where my human pulse betrayed my terror.

The Beta extended a hand toward my face, his claws half out.

“Let me see what kind of bitch you’ve brought us, Alpha.”