C5

“You think this is a game, Okoye?” Seth rumbled, his jaw tense as he slid his communication device onto the sheets right in front of my face. “Press play. Witness how your submissive act completely uninstalls the moment your eyes close.”

My fingers trembled slightly as I grabbed the device, tapping the glowing digital interface.

The screen flickered to life, showing night-vision footage from the tactical hidden camera in the ceiling. It was the dead of winter, the middle of the night, and there I was rising from the leather couch like a ghost guided by the twin moons. I walked straight toward the massive master bed with zero hesitation.

On the audio recording, Seth’s deep voice sounded rough and laced with rare exhaustion as he shifted on the pillows. “What are you doing?”

“Quiet!” my recorded voice hissed. I had pressed a single finger against my lips, my eyes blank as I leaned over the elite mafia alpha. The video only got worse. In one fluid, terrifying movement, my hands gripped his tactical shirt, ripping the fabric aside before I wrapped my arms around his waist like a desperate cub clinging to a mother wolf. My palm flattened against his scarred chest, and I let out a soft, satisfied sigh. “Sleep well, my sweet protector.”

The blood rushed straight to my face, my cheeks burning with fierce heat as the video cut to black. I wanted to crawl into a trench. Yesterday afternoon at the border banquet, I had foolishly accepted a single silver chalice of fermented berry wine, mostly to stop one of the aggressive lower-ranking cousins from sniffing around my scent profile.

I knew my system couldn't process high-potency alcohol. My lineage carried a rare trait drinking always unlocked a severe state of feral sleepwalking. I had assumed a tiny sip would be harmless under the pressure of the alliance, but my inner wolf had clearly taken the wheel the moment the lights went out. Trying to explain to the absolute kingpin of Valoria Ridge that ‘sweet protector’ was just the name of a hunting hound I raised in secret wouldn't save me. He would just use it as ammunition to humiliate me further. He would never believe I thought I was cuddling a giant wolfhound in my sleep.

I glared at Seth, refusing to let my voice shake as I handed the device back. “It was a physiological glitch. I was sleepwalking. If your alpha reflexes are so superior, why didn't you just throw me onto the floorboards?”

Seth let out a low, vibrant chuckle that rumbled in his chest, his golden eyes glittering with pure malice as his finger swiped the glass screen. “You didn't stop there, mate. Watch the second intercept.”

My stomach twisted into a hard knot. My thumb shook as I tapped the next file.

In this clip, my body was practically woven into his, my legs locked around his heavy thighs like an aggressive constrictor. Seth’s recorded voice sounded deep, vibrating with dark amusement through the small speaker. “Omega, your boundaries are becoming a security liability.”

And then came the absolute disaste my hand swung down, delivering a loud, resounding smack straight to his thigh before my voice barked, “One more rumble from your throat and I will pin you to the stone until you submit!”

The screen went dark again. I sat completely frozen, my skin blazing with intense embarrassment. If the ground had opened up right then to swallow me down to the underworld, I would have leaped in gladly.

Seth leaned down over my frame, his heavy chest nearly brushing my shoulders as his lethal scent surrounded me. “You possess a very bold mouth when you are dreaming, Rapha. Threats of submission against an Alpha Leader… how was I supposed to resist that kind of challenge?”

I couldn't take another second of his mocking tone. With a fierce snarl, I yanked the heavy fur blankets off my legs and vaulted out of the master bed, sprinting across the stone room like the floorboards were engulfed in silver-fire.

Seth’s booming laughter echoed off the high walls, his massive shoulders shaking with every breathless roar. He had spent the last hours of the night faking sleep beneath the sheets, waiting for the exact moment my consciousness returned so he could witness my pride shatter. I had given him the perfect weapon.

I threw myself inside the Hidden Chamber, slamming the heavy iron bolt into place. I grabbed my silver-pale hair, pulling at the roots as if I could wrench the humiliating memory straight out of my skull. I cursed my own stupidity in five different dialects. Alcohol was a death sentence for my discipline. I was still trying to steady my breathing when a sudden, heavy knock made the iron door rattle against its frame. Seth’s voice vibrated through the wood, light and dripping with authority. “Move your paws, mate. The high council elders are already taking their seats in the Alpha Hall. We cannot keep the pack waiting.”

The elite Adebayo Dominion had survived for centuries by enforcing ruthless, unbreakable blood customs. The most critical tradition occurred the sun-rise after a binding, when the newly matched pair had to present themselves to the council elders to verify the union a serious ceremony designed to ensure blood loyalty and seal the pack's official approval.

I didn't need him to lecture me on pack law. I yanked the door open, my jaw set as I ignored the dangerous humor dancing in his gold eyes. My skin was still flushed as I asked, “What is my designated uniform for this circus?”

“Your gear is already sorted.” He tossed a heavy leather tactical bag into my chest.

I snatched it out of his grip, slammed the door in his face, and went to work. Cold water wash. Quick change into the dark garments. Then, I grabbed the heavy brushes to apply a fresh, thick layer of the ash paste across my face to recreate my sickly disguise.

But my thoughts kept drifting back to the floorboards last night. Seth had pinned me down with effortless power. My current disguise clearly wasn't repulsive enough to keep his wolf at bay. I grabbed the brush, dragging the dark mud across my skin with raw frustration, darkening the fake scars until I looked like a diseased outcast again.

Once the leather straps of my vest were secured, I cracked the iron door. Seeing Seth leaning against the stone pillar waiting for me, I held out an open palm. “Where is my hairpiece?”

Seth took one look at my freshly ruined face and his alpha composure nearly cracked. A subtle twitch developed at the corner of his mouth, his eyes tracking the hideous mud mask. Without a single word, he reached into his vest and handed over the tangled, dark hairpiece. There was no point in trying to hide my true form from him anymore; he had already touched the bare skin beneath. I grabbed the rough wig and jammed it onto my skull right in front of his eyes.

Seth’s eye twitched slightly at the sheer defiance of my gesture. “Try not to cause my grandfather a cardiac arrest. Ease up on the walking-corpse aesthetic before we cross the threshold.”

Before I could fire a retort back, his large hand locked around my wrist, pulling me out of the quarters and down the massive stone corridor.

The Alpha Hall downstairs was an arena of absolute power, every silver banner polished and every guard standing at lethal attention.

At the elevated head of the long stone table, Elder Jabari occupied the central iron throne, while Jarrett Adebayo Seth’s biological father and the former warlord sat rigid and stiff to his right side. The remaining elite warriors of the clan had taken their respective positions, forming a cold, intimidating wall of muscle and scars.

Low rumbles of conversation and harsh laughter had been echoing through the vault, but the second Seth and I stepped through the iron archway our hands locked together to show a united front—the entire room went dead silent.

Thanks to the guard who had been eavesdropping outside our chambers last night, Elder Jabari already knew our binding night had been anything but peaceful. Most of the mafia bloodlines didn't believe for a second that a dominant alpha like Seth would willingly claim a weak, broken outcast from a lower clan. The rumors circulating through the fortress leaned toward blood and broken bones rather than mating. They were fully expecting me to drag myself into the hall, covered in claw marks and pack shame. Instead, they were staring at a picture of perfect, chilly cooperation. Seth was completely calm, walking with an easy, lethal grace.

A silent wave of shifting weight passed through the council as glances darted across the long table. Had the alpha actually claimed the rogue? The pressure in the air grew heavy. No one had anticipated this outcome the crown prince of the most powerful mafia dominion in Valoria Ridge, apparently accepting an omega who looked like dirt.

Completely uncaring of their judgment, Seth guided me forward with a firm grip, initiating the traditional blood greetings. Elder Jabari’s lineage split into four distinct, powerful branches, consisting of three lethal sons and one fiercely alpha daughter, all of whom controlled different borders of the underworld territory.

Jarrett, the firstborn and previous supreme commander, had stepped down from active combat duties when a rival's silver blade damaged his internal core years ago.

Bertram Adebayo was the second brother, followed by Emmanuel Adebayo, and finally their ruthless sister, Eva Adebayo.

The ancient laws dictated that a new mate must start the greeting ritual with the highest patriarch. Elder Jabari received our first nod of respect, followed immediately by Jarrett. Neither alpha looked pleased to have their bloodline joined to an Okoye survivor, but neither dared to break protocol in front of the council. They gave stiff, formal nods and allowed the ritual to conclude.

Once the blood greetings were certified, the entire assembly moved toward the massive banquet table for the pack breakfast.

Every iron chair around the oversized table was occupied by a high-ranking lieutenant. As I scanned the faces, the stares felt like silver blades some filled with basic curiosity, others thick with pure disgust or mocking amusement. There wasn't a single drop of pack warmth in the entire vault. It didn't affect my heart rate. I sat perfectly straight, my expression empty beneath my ugly makeup.

Just then, Bertram’s mate, Irene Adebayo, tilted her chin up with a smug, superior look, her voice cutting through the clatter of bone plates like a whip. “Tell me, Rapha, does your weak little wolf understand that every rival faction in Valoria Ridge is currently taking bets on how many days it takes for Seth to make himself a widower?”