The Desperate Bargain

​[Anya’s POV]

​The scent of antiseptic and fear was stuck in my throat. I couldn’t leave Devon. Not now. Not when my father’s threat felt colder than the air coming off the life-support machines.

​"The wedding is at noon," I whispered to my twin, stroking his hand. "I promise I’ll be back. I’ll make this money work, Devon. I’ll make them pay for putting you here."

​Putting you here. The words brought back the flash of headlights and the sickening crunch of metal from three months ago.

​"Look out, Anya!" Devon had screamed, throwing himself in front of me just as the speeding car swerved off the road. I remembered the shattered glass and the smell of oil and blood. I remembered looking up to see Seraphina and Caleb, the two of them, pale and scared, running away from the scene without calling for help. They had caused the accident, and they left us to die.

​They escaped punishment because my father covered it up, calling it a rogue wolf attack. But I knew the truth. And now, Caleb was marrying Seraphina, the girl he drove that night.

​My throat burned. Revenge had to wait. Survival came first.

​I rushed out, finding the house silent and guarded. My father had already placed guards at the main entrance, sealing the manor. I needed to act fast.

​I pulled out the old iron key to the pack’s emergency records office. I had always been good with numbers; maybe I could find a hidden bank account, or a piece of land that was legally mine, something I could sell quickly.

​The office was empty. I scrambled to the pack's emergency phone line and tried to dial the King’s official envoy, the only person powerful enough to override my father.

​A dial tone. Then, a click.

​"The Alpha Vesper has disabled all outside lines, Miss Anya," a guard said smoothly, leaning against the door frame. "He said you might be feeling... distressed. All communication is cut until after the ceremony."

​I slammed the phone down. Blocked.

​Next, I ran to my small, private safe hidden beneath a floorboard in my room. Inside, I kept the deeds to a little wooded lot my mother had left me—land I was sure my father didn't know about. It was small, but maybe enough for a few weeks of Devon’s care.

​I had to find a buyer fast. But the guards were everywhere. There was no way out of the manor without being stopped.

​I leaned against the wall, sliding down to the floor. Tears stung my eyes, but I forced them back. Crying wouldn't save Devon. Only cunning would.

​Okay. The marriage is happening. I can’t stop it. But I can control the outcome.

​My goal shifted from running away to bargaining. I had to walk into the ceremony knowing exactly what Ronan Thorne was getting. I just had to survive the next few hours.

​A harsh, low noise rumbled outside, shaking the old manor windows. It was deep, like thunder, but it didn't stop.

​The guards looked at each other with wide eyes.

​"What is that?" one whispered.

​I pushed myself up and ran to a second-floor window overlooking the main drive.

​It wasn't a sound of arrival; it was a sound of war.

​The noise grew into the heavy, deep engine roar of multiple military-grade vehicles. Suddenly, a massive, silent black convoy rolled onto the grounds. They weren't cars; they were long, heavily armored, matte black transports. Each one was fortified, built for conflict, not for a wedding.

​The convoy didn't stop at the front door. They drove straight toward the main drawing room entrance, stopping perfectly side-by-side like a row of black, metal monsters.

​This wasn't a wedding party. This was an invasion. Alpha Ronan Thorne hadn't sent his representatives; he had sent his army.

​The main door of the first vehicle hissed open, revealing a shadow inside.

​Then, a man stepped out from the second vehicle. He was massive, built like a brick wall, with dark, stoic eyes and a scar that ran from his temple to his jaw. He wore a uniform that looked expensive and intimidating. This had to be the Beta.

​He didn't appear to be a nervous wedding official. He looked like an executioner.

​He strode purposefully toward the main entrance, pulling a small microphone from his pocket and addressing the guards who were scrambling to attention.

​"My name is Alaric," the Beta announced, his voice carrying like a whip crack. "I am Beta of the Crescent Pack."

​He paused, letting the silence settle like a blanket of ice.

​"Alpha Ronan Thorne is here. His patience is thin."

​Alaric looked up at the manor, his hard gaze sweeping over the windows, settling for a terrifying second right where I was hiding.

​"Bring Anya Vesper to the main drawing room now," he demanded, his voice dropping to a dangerous growl. "The Alpha doesn't wait for anyone, especially his sacrificial bride."