C3

Elowen Hartwell grips her old, faded brown coat tightly around her shoulders, the icy winter wind of the Sterling Metropolitan District biting through the thin fabric as the pack transport cab drives away. The heavy iron gates of the Hartwell Estate loom ahead, forged with the massive crest of the Hartwell Family. She steps onto the cobblestone path, her breath blooming in thick white clouds, her body trembling from the freezing air and the sharp, lingering ache between her thighs from Calloway Sterling’s relentless alpha claim just two hours prior. She forces her feet forward, passing the frozen central fountain where a massive carved stone wolf stands mid-snarl, completely dusted in white snow.

Elowen lifts her hand, her knuckles bruised and pale, and knocks heavily against the massive double oak doors of the main pack house. No one answers. She presses the brass bell button repeatedly, the sharp chime echoing through the quiet interior until heavy footsteps approach from the other side. A middle-aged pack servant pulls the door open, a polite smile plastered on her face that instantly vanishes the second her eyes land on Elowen’s face.

"Miss Marlowe, you returned early—" The servant stops dead, staring closely at Elowen's eyes. Elowen had ripped out the uncomfortable brown contact lenses inside the cab, revealing her natural, luminous amber eyes—the undeniable mark of her hidden Omega heritage. The servant’s gaze drops to Elowen's worn coat and muddy boots. "Wait. Who are you?"

"I am here to see Benedict Hartwell," Elowen says, her teeth chattering so hard her jaw hurts. "Tell him Elowen is here for the promised pack medical credits."

The servant curls her lip in disgust, clicking her tongue loudly. "The High Alpha is still resting in his quarters. You will wait outside until he decides to rise."

Before Elowen can utter another word, the heavy wooden door slams shut in her face with a deafening bang. Elowen flinches, taking a step back as the cold wind whips her fake blonde wig across her face. She turns back toward the frozen wolf statue, wrapping her arms around her chest and sinking onto the icy stone ledge of the fountain. She shivers uncontrollably, her fingers going completely numb as the minutes drag into a agonizing hour. Every beat of her heart echoes with panic over her mother, Evelina Hartwell, lying defenseless in the medical ward while Benedict plays his cruel power games.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity in the freezing hell of the estate grounds, the front door clicks open again. The servant stands in the doorway, her face cold and unreadable.

"He will see you now," the servant snaps. "Wipe your boots."

Elowen rushes inside, the sudden blast of heated air hitting her skin like needles. She steps into the grand sitting room, where thick leather armchairs surround a roaring stone fireplace. Sitting on the central sofa is Benedict Hartwell, holding a stack of Lagos Holdings territorial reports in his broad hands. Sitting beside him in a silk robe is Beatrix Hartwell, her sharp, polished face glowing with arrogant satisfaction.

Benedict lowers the leather-bound papers slowly, his cold, calculating gaze sweeping over Elowen's trembling form. He does not offer her a seat. He does not even offer her a glass of warm water.

Beatrix leans forward instantly, her manicured claws digging into the armrest. "Is it done? Did Calloway Sterling accept the mating heat without realizing the switch?"

"Yes," Elowen answers directly, her raw, strained voice echoing in the quiet room. "The claim was completed. He believes he was with Marlowe."

"Did he see through the contact disguise or notice the missing pack scent?" Beatrix demands, her eyes narrowing as she searches Elowen's tired face for any sign of failure.

"No," Elowen says, forcing herself to stand tall despite the deep, agonizing exhaustion settling into her bones. "He was fast asleep when the night ended. Marlowe took over the suite before four in the morning, exactly as you ordered."

Beatrix lets out a high, triumphant squeal, clapping her hands together in dark delight. "Goddess above! It actually worked! Calloway Sterling is bound by territorial honor now. He cannot back out of the formal mate alliance after taking her maiden blood!"

Benedict sets his papers onto the mahogany table, a slow, ruthless smile spreading across his bearded face. "The Sterling Family controls eighty percent of the Sterling City pack trade and the entirety of the Lagos Holdings infrastructure. With Marlowe tied directly to Calloway’s bloodline, the Hartwell Family will finally take our rightful place at the absolute top of the Metropolitan hierarchy."

"We will be untouchable!" Beatrix laughs, pouring two crystal glasses of high-grade pack liquor and handing one to Benedict. "The other council elders won't dare challenge your authority once the Sterling alliance is formalized next week!"

Elowen watches her father and stepmother toast to their stolen victory, her blood running ice-cold in her veins. They are celebrating a brilliant political trap built entirely on her violation, using her body as a nameless tool while elevating Marlowe to ultimate glory.

Elowen steps closer to the glass table, her hands clenched into tight fists inside her coat pockets. "I did what you asked, Benedict. I took Marlowe's place. I sustained the alpha's knot, and I kept your lie alive. Give me the medical transfer authorization for Evelina right now."

Benedict slowly downs his drink, setting the heavy crystal glass down with a sharp clink. He looks up at Elowen as if she were nothing more than a stray dog that wandered into his dining hall.

"What medical credits?" Benedict asks smoothly, his tone dripping with fake confusion.

Elowen's heart drops straight into her stomach. "The credits for the Sterling Crown Medical Center! You swore on your honor as a pack leader that if I handled Calloway tonight, you would clear Mom's debt with Doctor Wallace Pembroke and keep her life support active!"

Beatrix lets out a sharp, mocking laugh, taking a delicate sip from her glass. "Listen to the little Omega make demands. You really are as foolish as your pathetic mother."

"You lied to me," Elowen whispers, the shock hitting her so hard she staggers back a step. "You used me to secure Calloway Sterling, and you never intended to pay for her care!"

Benedict rises from the couch, his broad, muscular frame towering over her as his alpha aura flares just enough to make her knees buckle under the sheer weight of his pressure. "Watch your mouth in my house, girl. You exist because I allow you to draw breath in this territory. You gave up your useless maidenhood to save this family's financial standing. Be grateful I don't throw you into the rogue pens for daring to speak to me like an equal."

"She is dying, Benedict!" Elowen screams, tears finally bursting past her eyelids, burning hot against her freezing cheeks. "She was your true mate before you threw her away for Beatrix! She has hours left if those machines are shut down!"

"She ceased being my concern the moment her wolf collapsed ten years ago," Benedict says coldly, stepping around the table and picking up his coat. "And as of three o'clock this morning, her account at the Sterling Crown Medical Center has been completely liquidated to pay for Marlowe's upcoming mating ceremony attire."

"No..." Elowen gasps, her hand flying to her mouth as a horrific, suffocating despair crushes her chest. "No, you couldn't..."

"Doctor Pembroke has already been instructed to execute the discharge order," Beatrix adds with a cruel, beautiful smirk. "If you want your mother to die on a clean bed, I suggest you run to the terminal ward at Briarwood Memorial Grounds before they dump her body on the street."

Elowen stares at her father, searching his stone-cold face for even a single flicker of human decency, but she finds nothing except pure, unadulterated malice. The truth cuts through her like a serrated blade. They had planned this betrayal from the very beginning. They used her desperate love for her mother to force her into Calloway Sterling's bed, knowing she would never refuse if Evelina's life was on the line.

Without another word, Elowen turns on her heel and sprints toward the front doors, shoving past the surprised servant and bursting back out into the blinding snowstorm.

"Elowen!" Beatrix's screeching voice follows her into the courtyard. "If you breathe a single word of tonight's switch to Calloway or anyone in the Sterling Family, I will have your mother's body tossed to the rogue wolves at the border!"

Elowen doesn't stop. She runs through the deep snow, her boots slipping on the slick ice of the driveway, her chest burning as she breathes in the freezing air. She forces her trembling legs to move faster, scrambling through the electronic iron gates and out onto the main road of Harborwick Island.

She pulls her phone from her pocket with completely frozen hands, her vision blurred by hysterical tears as she redials Doctor Wallace Pembroke’s direct line at the medical facility.

"Doctor Pembroke!" Elowen sobs into the speaker, her voice breaking against the howling wind. "Please, I am running to the transport station now! Do not let them move her! I will find the money! I will sell my own pack rights, I will sell everything I own, just please keep the machines running!"

On the other end of the line, heavy static crackles before Doctor Pembroke's tired, somber voice comes through.

"Elowen... stop running," Pembroke says softly, his words striking her like a physical blow. "It is too late."

Elowen freezes in the middle of the empty, snow-covered street, the phone pressed hard against her ear. "What do you mean? What are you saying?"

"Benedict Hartwell's enforcement team arrived at the facility twenty minutes ago with an official pack liquidation order," Pembroke explains, his tone heavy with helplessness. "They revoked her Omega protection status and signed the immediate termination papers. The life-support systems were disconnected at exactly four-fifteen AM."

A choked, silent gasp leaves Elowen's mouth. The world around her seems to stop spinning, the sound of the wind fading into a terrifying, hollow silence.

"She passed away five minutes later, Elowen," Pembroke continues quietly. "I am so sorry. Her remains are currently being transferred to the morgue at Briarwood Memorial Grounds as requested by the family's legal representative, Sterling Whitmore."

The phone slips from Elowen's numb fingers, crashing into the snow below. She drops to her knees right in the middle of the frozen road, her dark hands clutching at her chest as an agonizing, blood-curdling scream rips from her throat.

She sacrificed her body. She let Calloway Sterling claim her, tear through her, and treat her like a piece of meat under the illusion that she was saving her mother's life. And while she was lying beneath the alpha, bleeding and crying in silence, her father was signing her mother's death warrant with the very same pen.

Elowen buries her face in her hands, her body shaking hysterically as the cruel reality washes over her. She has nothing left. No mother. No pack status. No honor. She is just an Omega trash tossed aside after being thoroughly used.

Suddenly, the blinding glare of high-beam headlights cuts through the falling snow, illuminating Elowen's kneeling form in the street.

A massive, armored black SUV roars through the storm, screeching to a sudden halt mere feet in front of her. The sleek vehicle bears the golden crest of the Sterling Family.

The heavy driver's door opens, and Harrison Beckett, Calloway Sterling’s chief pack enforcer, steps out into the snow, holding a black leather briefcase. Behind him, the rear door slides open, and Calloway Sterling himself steps down onto the icy road.

Calloway is dressed in a tailored charcoal coat, his massive, imposing alpha presence cutting through the storm like a shadow. He wears his clear-lens glasses on his face, staring down at Elowen's kneeling, shivering form with dark, unreadable intensity.

Elowen's breath hitches in her throat as her amber eyes lock onto his sharp jawline. Panic spikes through her core. Does he know? Did he figure out the switch?

Calloway strides forward, his heavy boots crunching against the snow until he stands directly in front of her. He reaches into his coat pocket, pulls out a velvet-lined box, and opens it, revealing a heavy, ancient silver signet ring engraved with the Sterling Alpha crest—the official mating proposal token of the Sterling Family.

"Get up, Marlowe," Calloway commands, his deep, authoritative voice vibrating through the freezing air as he offers her his gloved hand. "I spoke with your father an hour ago. We are announcing our formal mating contract to the entire Metropolitan District tonight at six PM."