The Treaty

Alpha Marcus Sterling stood frozen, his arm pinned to his chair. His grey eyes burned with humiliation and hatred.

Behind us, the board members were silent. The royal frequency in my voice had settled over the room like a physical weight.

"Guards," Gideon said softly. "Take Marcus to the lower executive holding cell. Strip him of his comms, his clearance, and his sidearms."

The guards moved swiftly. They ripped the dagger from the chair and clicked heavy silver-lined cuffs around Marcus's wrists.

"You think you've won, boy?" Marcus spat, a cruel smile twisting his lips as he was led away. He stopped beside Gideon, leaning in.

"You have no idea what you've walked into. You think Silas wants border land? He doesn't care about minerals."

I narrowed my eyes. "What is he talking about?"

"Silas knows what you are, little rogue," Marcus sneered. "He's been searching for the last royal for twenty years to open the Blood Vault beneath High Ridge Lodge. The moment you step onto neutral ground, he will drain you dry, take the ancestral seal, and reduce both our packs to dust. Enjoy your victory while it lasts, son."

The double doors slammed shut.

Gideon didn't let the board members recover. He turned to the granite table, amber eyes flashing.

"The emergency session is over," Gideon announced. "The Ironclaw pack is now under my direct command. Secure the perimeter and prepare my transport for High Ridge Lodge."

He wrapped his hand around my waist and guided me out.

Twenty minutes later, the penthouse doors clicked shut. The tension of the boardroom dissolved into a suffocating stillness.

I kicked off my silver heels, stepping bare-soled onto the cool marble.

"The Blood Vault?" I demanded, crossing my arms. "What was your father talking about? What ancestral seal?"

Gideon had stripped off his jacket and unbuttoned his shirt. He poured two fingers of whiskey and tossed it back in one swallow.

"It's an old legend," Gideon said, setting the glass down with a *clink*. "Supposedly, the First Royal Alpha sealed the core magic of the valley inside a vault. Whoever holds the blood key commands the will of every wolf in Blackwood."

"And my uncle thinks I'm that key," I breathed. "That's why he hunted my family. Not hatred... greed."

"He won't touch you," Gideon said softly.

He stepped toward me. The air grew thick, charged with the scent of cedarwood and territorial magic. The mate bond flared, sending a rush of heat through my veins.

I stepped back, my heels brushing the panoramic window.

Gideon closed the distance, his radiated heat pouring off his chest. He slammed his palm against the glass beside my head, trapping me.

"Gideon," I warned, my voice trembling.

"You called yourself my future Alpha female back there," Gideon murmured, his voice a velvet rasp. His hand caught the side of my neck, his thumb resting on my thumping pulse.

"It was a tactical move," I spat, my hands pressing against his chest. I could feel the hard muscle and the rapid thud of his heart matching mine. "We made a deal. We're faking this."

"We are," Gideon whispered, leaning down until his lips hovered a fraction of an inch from my ear. "But my wolf doesn't care about tactical moves, Lyra. My wolf heard you claim me in front of thirty elders."

"I claimed the power, Sterling. Not you," I lied, my fingers digging into his shirt.

Gideon let out a low, vibrating growl—*"Grrr..."*—a sound that rattled my ribs. He tilted my face up, forcing my golden eyes to lock with his amber ones.

"Lie to yourself all you want, little wolf," Gideon growled softly. "I felt your magic jump when I touched you. I felt your heart hammer. You can run to the end of the earth, but you belong right here."

"I don't belong to anyone," I rasped. "I am royal blood. I am not a prize to be won."

For a long second, the air was electric, a wire stretched to the snapping point. Gideon’s gaze burned with a possessive hunger.

Then, a wicked smirk touched his lips.

"I'm not going to cage you, Lyra," he whispered, his thumb tracing my lower lip. "I'm going to watch you tear our enemies apart."

Before the tension could explode, a red light flashed on the desk. A high-pitched emergency chime shattered the quiet.

Gideon's jaw clenched. He stepped back, the sudden loss of heat feeling like ice water. He hit a button on the console, and a projection of his tactical officer appeared.

"Report," Gideon ordered, his voice returning to the ruthless commander.

"Commander Sterling, we have an emergency in the neutral zone," the officer reported, his face pale. "Alpha Silas and two hundred warriors have crossed the Silver River. They've surrounded High Ridge Lodge two days ahead of schedule."

I stepped beside him, my eyes widening. "What about the peacekeepers?"

"Silas took the entire neutral council hostage, ma'am," the officer replied, looking at me with newfound urgency. "He just broadcasted an open transmission across all pack frequencies."

Gideon leaned over the desk. "What did Silas say?"

The officer swallowed hard. "He said if Commander Sterling doesn't deliver the white wolf to the steps of High Ridge Lodge by midnight tonight... he will slaughter every hostage and burn the mountain to ash." 

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