CHAPTER 5: The Trap is Set

I don't let her go.

I can feel the frantic beat of her heart against my chest, a wild, trapped rhythm that matches the chaos I know is raging inside her. I can smell the intoxicating mix of her fear, her exhaustion, and the sweet, wild scent of her wolf. But beneath all of that, I feel the hum of the bond. It is a live wire connecting my soul to hers, a current that thrums with a dark, possessive satisfaction.

She whispered, "Yes, I understand."

The words echo in my mind, a victory I have been waiting years to claim. But I cannot let her see how much this means to me. I cannot let her see the wolf inside me clawing at my skin, demanding I claim her here and now.

I release her.

The moment my hands leave her waist, she stumbles back a half-step. Her hand flies to her chest, pressing against her sternum. I watch her closely. The pain is returning. I can see it in the way her breath hitches, in the slight tremor of her fingers. She is trying to hide it, but she is failing.

I turn away from her, walking to my desk. I pour myself a glass of whiskey, the amber liquid burning a pleasant path down my throat. I don't offer her one. This is not a social call.

"The rules," I say, my voice cold and detached.

She clasps her hands behind her back, a military stance. "I'm listening."

"You will move into my estate tonight. The east wing. You will be my Head Strategist. You will have access to all financial records."

She nods once, her expression carefully blank.

"You will not speak to Julian or Celeste without my explicit permission. You are under my protection now. No one will touch you."

"And if they try?" she asks, a hint of defiance in her voice.

"Then they will answer to me," I say, my voice dropping to a low growl. "And they will not survive the conversation."

She doesn't flinch, but I notice her hand trembling slightly before she clasps it tighter behind her back.

"You will be at my side for all pack functions. The pack will see you with me. They will know you are mine."

"And my work?" she asks, her voice sharper now. "I'm not going to sit in your estate and be decorative. If I'm your strategist, I want to actually work."

I turn to face her, my glass in hand. "You will work. You will have full access to the pack's financial systems. You will report directly to me. But you will not make any decisions without my approval."

She narrows her eyes. "That's not a partnership. That's a dictatorship."

"It's a hierarchy," I correct her. "I am the Alpha. You are my strategist. The sooner you accept that, the easier this will be."

She holds my gaze for a long moment. I can see her jaw working, her mind racing. She is trying to find a loophole, a weakness she can exploit. She won't find one.

"Fine," she says, her voice tight. "Is there anything else?"

"Yes," I say.

I open the drawer of my desk and retrieve a thick document, bound in dark leather. I place it on the desk and slide a silver pen toward her.

She frowns. "A contract?"

"I don't make verbal deals, Kaia," I say. "This outlines your salary, your living arrangements, and your obligations to me."

She picks up the document, her fingers tracing the embossed lettering on the cover. She flips it open, scanning the pages. I watch her eyes move rapidly across the text, her analytical mind processing the clauses, the conditions, the fine print.

"You're offering me a salary," she says, her voice flat.

"I'm offering you a position. A legitimate one. With benefits, housing, and a severance package that will make you very comfortable if you decide to leave."

She looks up at me, her eyes sharp. "Why go through all this formality? You could have just demanded my compliance. You're the Alpha. My word means nothing against yours."

"Because I am not my son," I say, my voice low and steady. "And because I don't throw away what is valuable."

She stares at me, her breath catching. For a moment, the mask slips. I see the vulnerability beneath her armor, the deep, festering wound that Julian left behind. She is not just angry. She is hurt. She is broken. And she is terrified that I will break her again.

She picks up the pen.

She pauses. Her eyes drop to the contract, then to the pen in her hand. I can see the war in her eyes—the desperate need for revenge, warring with the fear of what she is signing away. Her analytical mind is screaming at her to read the fine print. I can almost hear the calculations running behind her eyes. But the pain is a wild animal inside her, and she just wants it to stop. She takes a breath. Then she flips to the last page and scrawls her signature across the line. The moment the ink dries, the trap is set. She has just signed away her freedom, and she doesn't even realize it.

She sets the pen down. "Is there anything else, Alpha?"

"Yes," I say.

I step into her space one last time. I place my hand on her waist, pulling her gently but firmly against me. She stiffens, but she doesn't pull away. I lean down, my lips brushing the shell of her ear. I can feel the shiver that runs through her body. It is a delicious, involuntary reaction that makes my wolf purr in satisfaction.

"You wanted to make my son kneel, Kaia," I murmur, my voice dark with promise. "If you stay with me, I promise you, he will beg for mercy."

I pull back, my eyes locking onto hers. They are wide, dark, and filled with a dangerous thrill.

"Welcome to the game, little wolf."