002

YEARS LATER….

Scarlett's POV:

"Daddy, please!"

I woke up screaming, my father's name still burning on my lips. The nightmare clung to me like a second skin, the cold stone floor, the silver chains, the moment Damon's rejection tore my soul in half. I pressed a hand to my chest and forced air into my lungs, counting each breath until the panic loosened its grip on my throat.

"Just a memory," I whispered to the dark room. "Just a memory."

I swung my legs over the side of the bed and glanced at the clock. Three in the morning. Four hours until my shift at The Rusty Cage. I will not sleep again tonight. I never did after the nightmare.

I dressed in worn jeans and a faded black shirt, pulled my hair into a messy ponytail, and grabbed my leather jacket. The walk to the bar was short, and the cold air helped clear the last remnants of the dream from my mind.

Frank was already behind the counter when I walked in, wiping down glasses with a rag that had seen better days.

"You look like hell," he said.

"Thanks. You always know how to make a girl feel special."

He grunted and slid a bottle of whiskey toward me. "There's a woman in the back corner. Been asking about you."

I froze, my hand hovering over the bottle. "What woman?"

"Old. Elegant. Looks like she belongs in a palace, not a dump like this."

My heart rate kicked up a notch. In ten years, no one had ever come looking for me. I had made sure of that. I kept my head down, my mouth shut, and my past buried so deep that even I sometimes forgot it existed.

So who the hell was asking about me?

I turned and scanned the room. It did not take long to find her. She was sitting alone in the darkest corner, a woman who looked to be in her sixties with silver hair pulled into an elegant bun and sharp eyes that missed nothing. She was dressed in a black tailored suit that probably cost more than my entire apartment, and she held a glass of red wine like a queen holding a scepter and she was watching me.

A cold dread settled in my stomach. This woman looked like she could buy me without blinking. She looked like she could buy the entire bar and everyone in it and she was here for me? I did not like that.

But I had spent ten years learning how to mask fear behind a wall of steel. I grabbed a bottle of beer and made my way across the room, my steps steady, my expression flat.

When I reached her table, I did not sit. I stood, my arms crossed, my eyes hard. "You've been asking about me."

The woman smiled, and it was not a warm smile. It was the smile of someone who had seen empires rise and fall and was not impressed by either.

"Scarlett Hayes," she said, her voice smooth as silk. "Please, sit."

"I'll stand."

"Suit yourself." She took a sip of her wine and studied me with those sharp eyes. "My name is Vivienne, though most people know me as The Matron."

The name meant nothing to me, but the way she said it, like it should mean something, made my skin prickle.

"I don't know who you are," I said. "And I don't know why you're asking about me. But I'm not interested."

"You have not even heard what I have to say."

"I don't need to. People like you don't come to places like this for good reasons."

The Matron's smile did not waver. "People like me come to places like this because people like you have something I need."

"I have nothing."

"Everyone has something." She set her wine glass down and folded her hands on the table. "I run a service for powerful individuals who need discreet arrangements. Surrogacy, companionship, contract work. My clients are wealthy, influential, and extremely private."

"I'm not a prostitute."

"I did not say you were. I said I provide arrangements. What you choose to do with those arrangements is your business."

I shook my head and turned to leave. "Find someone else."

"I know about your father."

I froze, my heart stopped beating as my blood turned to ice.

"What did you say?"

"Marcus Hayes. Former Beta of the Silvermoon Pack. Currently living in a small town called Crestwood under the name Michael Hart. Remarried. One son, age eight."

I turned back slowly, my hands trembling at my sides. "How do you know that?"

"I know many things, Scarlett. I know what he did to you. I know about the rejection. I know you have spent ten years dreaming of making him pay."

My throat tightened. Hearing someone else say it out loud made something inside me crack.

"What do you want?"

"I want to offer you a way to get that revenge." She reached into her bag and pulled out a white envelope, placing it on the table. "Tomorrow night, there will be an auction. A powerful Alpha is looking for a surrogate. A woman strong enough to carry his heir."

"You want me to sell my body."

"I want you to consider an opportunity. Five million dollars. Half upfront, half when the child is born."

Five million dollars. What? The number hit me like a physical blow. Five million dollars was enough to buy a new identity, to disappear, to hunt down my father, to make him pay for every tear I had shed. Five million dollars was literally freedom. But it felt good to be true.

"Why me?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Because you are not like the others. You have survived things that would have broken most people. You have nothing left to lose."

I stared at the envelope, my mind racing. This was not desperation. This was a calculation. Nine months of my life in exchange for the capital I needed to finally get my revenge. I could survive nine months. I had survived worse. My wolf was dormant, buried so deep inside me that she had not stirred in years. That made me perfect for this. No wolf meant no fated mate bond would form with the Alpha, no messy emotions, and no complications. Just business.

"I'll think about it," I said, tucking the envelope into my jacket.

The Matron smiled and stood, smoothing down her suit. "Of course. Take all the time you need."

I watched her walk out of the bar. The moment the door closed behind her, I let out a breath I did not know I had been holding.

"Did you see her?" a rough voice whispered from a nearby table. "That was The Matron."

"The Matron? Here? What did she want with the bartender?"

"Probably recruiting for one of her auctions. You know the kind. Rich Alphas looking for surrogates. I heard the last one went for eight million."

"Eight million? For a womb?"

"For an heir. There's a difference. These Alphas, Rogues and criminals, they can't just breed with anyone. They need someone strong. Someone who won't break."

"Shit. Eight million. I'd carry a demon's spawn for that kind of money."

"Keep your voice down. If The Matron hears you volunteering, she might actually take you up on it."

The two men laughed, low and rough, and went back to their drinks.

I stood frozen at the table, my heart pounding.

Eight million but the Matron had offered me five.

I did not know if that meant she thought I was worth less, or if the Alpha had negotiated a lower price for a woman with no pack, no connections, no wolf to complicate things, or she simply wanted to keep more profits to herself. I had no idea. But does it really matter?

Five million was enough.

I walked back to the counter and slipped behind it, tying my apron around my waist while Frank was watching me with curious eyes.

"What did she want?" he asked.

"Just girl talk," I said, grabbing a glass and wiping it clean. "You know how it is."

"You're lying."

"Always."

He grunted and went back to his work. I did the same.