CHAPTER 4: The Proposition

I push open the heavy oak door to the Alpha’s study.

The room smells like old books, expensive leather, and a dark, intoxicating cologne that makes my stomach flip. The lighting is dim, casting long shadows across the mahogany desk.

I force my spine to straighten, ignoring the violent tremor in my legs. The bond-sickness is tearing at my insides, a relentless, throbbing agony that makes me want to curl into a ball and scream. But I don't. I am wearing the red dress. I am wearing my war paint. I will not look like a victim tonight.

Alistair is sitting behind his desk, a crystal tumbler of whiskey in his hand. He doesn't stand when I enter. He doesn't look surprised. He just watches me with those piercing grey eyes, his expression completely unreadable.

He is dressed in a dark suit, his tie loosened slightly. The silver at his temples catches the light. He looks like a predator who has just been waiting for his prey to walk into the trap.

I stop in the middle of the room, a few feet from his desk. I can feel the heat of his gaze as it sweeps over me, taking in the plunging neckline of my dress, the slit in the thigh.

"I assume you heard all of that," I say. My voice is surprisingly steady.

"I did," Alistair replies, his voice a low, deep rumble. "You have a sharp tongue, Kaia. And a flair for the dramatic. The red dress is a nice touch."

I ignore the flush of heat that rises to my cheeks. I am here to make a deal, not to be charmed.

"I'm not here to play games, Alpha," I say, stepping closer. I lean against the edge of his desk, crossing my arms beneath my chest. The position is calculated, designed to emphasize my figure. "I'm here to offer you a proposition."

Alistair takes a slow sip of his whiskey. "I'm listening."

"Julian is a fool," I say, my voice dropping to a low, conspiratorial whisper. "He thinks he can run this pack. He thinks Celeste can manage the finances. He is going to run your legacy into the ground. I know his weaknesses. I know the pack's numbers better than anyone. I can be your Head Strategist."

"I already have a Head Strategist," Alistair says mildly.

"She's incompetent," I counter. "I am the best. You know I am."

He sets his glass down. "And what do you want in return?"

I hold his gaze. "I want Julian destroyed. I want him to lose everything. His title, his money, his reputation. I want him to crawl. And I want you to help me do it."

Alistair leans back in his chair. He studies me for a long, uncomfortable moment. The silence stretches, filling the room like smoke.

"You called him a fake Alpha," he says softly. "In front of the entire pack. You told him you preferred real Alphas."

I hold his gaze. "I meant it."

A slow, dangerous smile curves his lips. "I know you did. You think you're the first person to offer me a deal, Kaia?" he says softly. "You think you can walk into my study in that dress, offer me your mind and your body, and I'll just fall in line?"

My breath catches. He sees right through me.

"I'm not offering my body," I lie smoothly. "I'm offering a partnership."

"Liar," he says. The word is a soft, lethal caress.

He stands up. He is taller than I expected, his presence filling the room. He walks around the desk, moving with the fluid grace of a predator. He stops right in front of me. He is so close I can smell the whiskey on his breath, the clean linen of his shirt.

"You think I don't know how to play this game, little wolf?" he murmurs. "I've been playing it for twenty years. I know exactly what you are doing.

I swallow hard. "And yet, you're still listening."

"Because I hate my son," Alistair says, his eyes flashing with a cold, dark amusement. "And because I find your audacity... refreshing."

He steps even closer, forcing me to tilt my head back to look at him. The physical proximity is overwhelming. The bond-sickness is pounding in my skull, but there is something else now. A strange, electric heat pooling in my stomach.

"If we do this," Alistair says, his voice dropping to a low, possessive growl, "you play by my rules. You move into my estate. Tonight. Right now. You will be at my side at all times. You will obey my commands.” I blink, trying to process his words. Move in? Tonight?

"I need time to pack," I say, my voice wavering slightly.

"You don't need anything," he says. "You have your dress. You have your mind. That's all you need."

I should say no. I should walk out of this room and find another way. But the physical pain is too much. I am so tired. I am so broken. And I am so desperate for revenge.

"Fine," I say, my voice barely a whisper. "I accept your terms."

The moment the words leave my lips, a wave of agonizing pain crashes over me. It is the bond-sickness, surging back with a vengeance. My vision whites out. My knees buckle.

I am falling.

But I don't hit the floor.

Alistair catches me. His hands close around my waist, strong and sure. He pulls me against his chest, holding me upright.

The moment his skin touches mine, the pain vanishes.

It doesn't just fade. It disappears. Completely.

I gasp, my eyes flying open. I stare up at him, my chest heaving. The relief is so profound, so overwhelming, that tears spring to my eyes. The agonizing fire in my veins is replaced by a shocking, electric heat. My wolf, Lyra, who has been screaming in agony for hours, goes completely silent. She rolls over in my mind and shows her belly in total submission.

Alistair feels it too. I can see it in the way his pupils dilate, in the way his grip on my waist tightens. His eyes, which were cold and calculating a moment ago, are now dark with a fierce, possessive hunger.

He knows. He knows this isn't normal.

I try to pull away, terrified by the intensity of the reaction. I am here to use him. I cannot afford to be weak. But he doesn't let me go. He grabs my chin, his fingers firm and commanding, forcing me to look directly into his eyes.

"I don't share, Kaia," he says, his voice a low, rough rumble. "If you want my help to destroy my son, you don't just belong to me in the boardroom. You belong to me in my bed. Do you understand?"

A cold trickle of fear runs down my spine, mixed with a heat I refuse to acknowledge. I am trading one monster for another. But as long as his hands are on me, the pain is gone. I can survive this. I can use this.

I lift my chin, meeting his gaze with as much defiance as I can muster.

"Yes," I whisper.