Chapter 1.

Rain blurred the windshield as my cat rolled toward the private gates of Blackthorne Estate.

My phone buzzed again through the cup holders.

Lucien Calling...

I declined it.

A second later, another call.

Vivienne Calling...

I laughed.

Not because anything was funny.

Because it had taken them six hours to realize I was gone.

The drive to Blackthorne territory had taken the better part of the day.

"State your name."

The security guard's voice came through the speaker beside the gate.

I lowered my window.

"Cora Vale."

Silence.

Then:

"...Please wait."

The guard's expression changed immediately.

He stepped away, speaking quietly into the microphone clipped to his lapel.

You can feel the tension already.

I'd expected to be stopped.

Questioned.

Maybe even arrested.

Black SUVs escorted me from the gate to the main house. Men in black suits, each wearing a discreet earpiece, watched me with professional caution. They were trained security.

They didn't point their guns at me.

They didn't sneer at the Silver Crescent creston on my Identity card.

One of them simply inclined his head.

"You requested an audience with Alpha Blackthorne?"

"I did."

"He is expecting you."

That surprised me.

I had sent my request only that morning, never believing it would be accepted.

The security gestured toward the winding road ahead.

"Follow us."

I tightened my grip on the wheel and did exactly that.

Growing up, I'd heard countless stories about the Blackthorne Pack.

Children were warned that if they wandered too close to the border, the Blackthornes would capture them.

Warriors claimed the pack trained killers instead of protectors.

The elders spoke of Alpha Rowan Blackthorne as though he were less man than legend—a ruthless Alpha who never smiled, never forgave, and never lost.

Yet nothing I saw resembled the monsters I'd imagined.

The estate stood proudly against the mountains, its stone walls weathered by time rather than war. Lanterns glowed warmly beneath wide archways, chasing away the gathering dusk.

People trained in the courtyard with remarkable discipline, their movements precise and controlled.

Near the stables, two young wolves laughed as they struggled to coax an enormous horse into its stall.

No one looked afraid.

No one looked oppressed.

They looked...

Normal.

The realization unsettled me more than fear ever could.

How many lies had I accepted simply because they'd been repeated often enough?

The thought was dangerous.

I buried it before it could grow roots.

One of the guards led me through towering oak doors into the manor.

The air inside smelled faintly of cedarwood and burning pine.

There was no excessive display of wealth. No gold-covered statues or extravagant chandeliers.

Everything was elegant without demanding attention.

Practical.

Orderly.

A servant approached, offering a drink.

"It's orange juice, miss."

I hesitated.

Hospitality from an enemy felt... wrong.

When I didn't move, the older woman smiled kindly.

"The Alpha dislikes guests feeling unwelcome."

Guests.

Not prisoners.

Not enemies.

Guests.

I accepted the drink with a quiet, "Thank you."

She nodded before disappearing down another hallway.

Moments later, another guard stopped outside a pair of heavy wooden doors.

"The Alpha is inside."

My pulse stumbled.

This was it.

There would be no turning back after this conversation.

No returning to Silver Crescent pretending everything was fine.

No wedding.

No future I'd spent years building.

I drew a slow breath, squared my shoulders, and lifted my hand.

Before I could knock, a calm voice carried through the door.

"You may come in."

For a heartbeat, I wondered if he'd heard my breathing.

I pushed the door open.

Rowan Blackthorne looked up from his laptop as I entered. His charcoal suit jacket hung neatly over the back of his chair, the top button of his white shirt undone, his sleeves rolled to his forearms. He looked less like the ruthless Alpha I'd heard about and more like the kind of billionaire whose calendar was booked six months in advance.

The room was larger than I expected, lined with towering bookshelves.

Alpha Rowan Blackthorne.

He didn't rise in surprise.

He looked as though he'd been expecting me all along.

His silver eyes settled on mine with unnerving composure.

"Miss Vale."

Hearing my name from his lips sent a chill down my spine.

"Yes."

"I make it a habit to know who requests a private audience."

His voice was deep, controlled, and impossible to read.

He gestured toward the chair opposite his desk.

"Please. Sit."

"I'd rather stand."

One corner of his mouth twitched—not quite a smile, but close enough to suggest I'd amused him.

"As you wish."

His gaze dropped briefly to my outfit.

"It seems it's urgent?"

"Yes."

"That was either remarkably brave..."

His eyes lifted to meet mine again.

"...or remarkably foolish."

"Perhaps."

A beat of silence passed.

"Which do you think it was?" he asked.

"I think," I replied, meeting his gaze without wavering, "that depends on how this conversation ends."

Something changed in his expression.

Interest.

For the first time since entering the manor, I felt as though I truly had his attention.

I straightened my shoulders.

There was no room left for hesitation.

"Marry me."

The words left my mouth before doubt could drag them back.

Silence.

Not the comfortable kind.

The kind that stretched so long it made me question my own sanity.

Nothing in the room felt welcoming.

Least of all the man standing before me.

Rowan was taller than the stories claimed, broad-shouldered and dressed in a fitted black shirt with the sleeves rolled to his forearms. A silver signet ring bearing the Blackthorne crest glinted as he rested one hand against the desk.

He hadn't blinked since I'd spoken.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I believe you heard me."

His gaze narrowed.

"I heard you."

Another pause.

"You've crossed the border into enemy territory."

"Yes."

"You requested a private audience."

"I did."

"And your purpose..."

He tilted his head almost lazily.

"...was to propose marriage."

"Correct."

His expression remained unreadable.

Either he possessed extraordinary self-control...

Or he was deciding the most efficient way to throw me out.

"I was informed," he said evenly, "that the future Luna of Silver Crescent wished to discuss a matter concerning the trade routes between our territories."

"I lied."

"I can see that."

I folded my trembling hands behind my back before he could see them shake.

I hadn't slept in two nights.

Every time I closed my eyes, I heard Lucien's voice.

She'll never see it coming.

I forced the memory away.

Not now.

Not here.

Rowan walked around the desk with slow, measured steps until only a few feet separated us.

He wasn't smiling.

He wasn't angry.

He was studying me.

"You don't appear frightened."

"I am."

"Then why are you here?"

Because I have nowhere else to go.

Because the people who promised to protect me are planning to destroy my life.

Because if I don't move first, they'll erase me before anyone learns the truth.

Instead, I answered with the only truth that mattered.

"Because I need a husband."

One dark eyebrow rose.

"I find that difficult to believe."

"Well believe it."

His eyes searched mine, as though waiting for the moment I'd laugh and admit this was all some elaborate joke.

I didn't.

"I have no interest," he said at last, "in becoming a pawn in another pack's political games."

"Neither do I."

"Then we're in agreement."

He turned toward the desk.

"Our meeting is over."

"No."

The word came out sharper than I'd intended.

He stopped.

Without looking back, he asked, "Have you mistaken persistence for persuasion?"

I reached into my purse.

"I think you've mistaken this visit for desperation."

He glanced down.

I handed the proposal.

"The things I have? they were meant for me," I said quietly.

For the first time since I entered his study...

The room no longer belonged entirely to him.