CHAPTER 6

“Where the hell did this come from?”

Hudson’s voice was a low-frequency vibration that rattled the crystal decanters on the sideboard. He didn't look at the wooden box Avery had set on the stone counter; he looked at her, his amber eyes tracking the frantic pulse in her throat. His scent—heavy with the metallic tang of an Alpha's suspicion—filled the kitchen.

Avery’s fingers blurred in the dim light, the motion jagged. I went to the archives to finish my resignation. I'm done.

“And who brought you back to the territory? Who’d you share a kill with for lunch?” He moved closer, the heat radiating off his massive frame pressing against her.

Avery’s hands froze. The lie tasted like copper in her mouth. It was the first time she’d ever deceived her Alpha, and the sweat slicking her palms felt like a confession. Harper. She drove me. We ate at the border tavern. She bit her lip, her heart hammering a frantic rhythm against her ribs. She raised her hands again, a small, daring spark in her eyes. Why are you here, Hudson? It’s mid-day. Did Madison kick you out of her bed?

The air in the room snapped. Hudson’s jaw creaked as he ground his teeth. He surged forward, his hand clamping around her wrist like a shackle.

“You brought back scraps? From a border tavern?” He kicked the wooden box. It skidded across the floor, the lid popping to reveal half-eaten smoked venison. “You’re a Montgomery. You don’t eat garbage from rogues.”

Avery shook her head vehemently. She couldn’t tell him her stomach had turned at the smell of the pack's heavy stews. She couldn't tell him the rogue's dried meat was the only thing she could keep down.

“Why did Harper call my Enforcer?” Hudson roared, his grip tightening until Avery’s bones groaned.

Panic. It was a cold drenching. She hadn't expected Harper to actually go through with the call. She looked up at him, her eyes brimming with unshed tears and a sudden, sharp accusation. Her lips, still swollen and stung from the previous night’s marking, trembled.

Hudson’s gaze dropped to her mouth. The fury in his scent shifted, darkening into something thick and predatory. He didn't ask again. He scooped her up, his shoulder digging into her stomach as he hauled her toward the stairs.

He slammed the bedroom door with a force that cracked the frame. Avery hit the massive furs of their bed, the air leaving her lungs in a silent wheeze. She scrambled back, her palms flat against his chest, but it was like trying to stop an avalanche.

“Be a good little wolf,” Hudson growled, his voice a gravelly purr against her ear.

He didn't wait for her consent. He didn't need it. He was the Alpha, and she was the silent mate who had dared to lie. He pinned her wrists above her head, his weight a crushing, 3D reality that grounded her to the mattress.

He didn't kiss her. He bit. His teeth grazed the sensitive junction of her neck and shoulder, drawing a sharp, silent gasp from her throat.

Stop, she signed with one free hand, her fingers brushing his cheek. I feel sick.

Hudson pulled back, his eyes glowing a lethal gold. “Sick? Sick of the archives? Or sick of me?”

He rolled off her, standing by the bed like a monument of frustrated muscle. “You went to the border. You ate with a Beta. And now you’re too ‘sick’ for your mate?”

Avery curled into a ball, the shadows of the room closing in. Ever since she’d mentioned the divorce, he had been a constant, suffocating presence—not out of love, but out of a territorial obsession.

Hudson didn't leave. He turned and grabbed her leather satchel from the chair.

“Is this what you’re hiding?” He dumped the contents. Journals, ink pots, and a crumpled piece of parchment fell out.

He smoothed the paper. His face went white, then a violent, mottled red. “The hospital? You were at the Silver Ridge infirmary this morning? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Avery retreated to the headboard, her hands moving in a small, weary arc. I didn't want to bother the Great Alpha.

“You’re my mate! You collapse in the dirt and you think it’s a bother?” He stalked back to the bed, looming over her. The connection clicked in his head—Harper’s call, the exhaustion, the hospital.

Avery’s eyes leaked silent tears. She signed fast, the motions blurry. I fainted. It was nothing. I recovered. I didn't want you to think I was more broken than I already am.

Hudson’s expression fractured. The rage ebbed, replaced by a jagged, uncomfortable guilt. “From now on,” he muttered, his thumb brushing a tear from her cheek, “you tell me. Everything.”

Avery nodded, but the weight in her chest didn't lighten.

The chime of a phone shattered the moment.

“Hudson? Where are you? We were supposed to feast at the Scarlett Vale.” Madison’s voice was a high-pitched needle through the speaker.

Avery tried to scramble off the bed, but Hudson’s arm was a bar of iron across her lap. He stared at her, his eyes fixed on her wet lashes.

“I’m at a Council meeting near the border,” Hudson said, his voice steady, his eyes never leaving Avery’s. “I’ll be back late.”

Avery froze. He was lying. To Madison. For her?

The door clicked shut behind him a moment later.

“Will you be hunting for yourself tonight, Luna?”

Preston Hale, the butler, stood at the base of the stairs as Avery descended. He held out a glass of spring water, his eyes Kind.

Avery usually let the Omegas cook, or she didn't eat at all. But today, the lie Hudson told Madison had lit a small, dangerous coal of hope in her belly.

She nodded to Preston, a small smile ghosting her lips.

She spent hours in the kitchen. She prepped the raw heart of a stag, seasoning it with mountain herbs and wild garlic. She orchestrated the roasting pits, the blood-sauces, and the root vegetables until the scent of a true High-Blood feast filled the villa.

She was plating the final dish when her phone buzzed. Working late. Bring the feast to the High-Hall.

The High-Hall. The seat of the Montgomery Pack. Avery had been kept from its stone corridors for years, hidden away like a shameful secret.

She packed the food into heavy stone crocks and wrapped them in furs to keep the heat. She didn't taste a bite. She called a runner-shuttle and raced toward the heart of the territory.

The High-Hall was a fortress of jagged granite, glowing with torchlight against the purple twilight. Wolves in grey cloaks bustled through the iron gates.

Avery stepped into the vaulted lobby and was immediately blocked by a female Enforcer. “Identify yourself. Do you have a summons?”

Avery typed onto her phone, her hands shaking. I am here to see Alpha Hudson.

“What for? The Alpha is in session.” The Enforcer’s eyes raked over Avery’s simple tunic and the heavy food basket. Her lip curled. “Look, little girl, do you know how many omegas try to sneak in here with 'tribute' just to get a look at him? If you’re a delivery girl, go to the servant’s entrance. Why the act? Can’t you speak?”

Avery bit her lip until it bled. She reached for her phone to type her rank, but the Enforcer shoved her back. “Get out before I put you in a cage for trespassing. We don’t have time for mutes today.”

Avery stumbled back. She messaged Hudson. I am at the gates. They won't let me through.

No reply.

She paced the cold stone perimeter, the weight of the feast dragging at her arms. The heat was fading from the crocks. She tried one more time, showing the Enforcer a single sentence: Please, just tell him I’m here.

The Enforcer rolled her eyes and poured a bowl of water, sliding it across the floor like she was feeding a stray dog. “You want to wait? Fine. Wait in the corner. But the Alpha takes the underground tunnels to the private dens. He won't even see you. Let’s see how long you last in the cold.”