Emma's wolf stirred before she heard the footsteps.
Something was coming down the corridor—something powerful, something that made the air tighten in her lungs. The scent hit her first. Cold. Dominant. Familiar. Her heart began to pound before she even knew why.
Then the voices came.
One hour later, Emma heard voices in the corridor. She sat upright and adjusted herself.
Brandon's guards, all imposing werewolves with glowing amber eyes and taut, sinewy muscles beneath their suits, surrounded the lounge, but he was not with them. However, with their presence, she knew he was around. She fixed her eyes on theVision Hearth as they waited for him, sensing the faint, primal scent of their predator instincts in the air.
One of the guards glanced at her.
"She smells different," he murmured under his breath.
Another guard stiffened.
"Careful. The Alpha hears everything."
Emma swallowed and kept her gaze on the screen, pretending not to notice.
Brandon walked into the lounge after some minutes. He sat on a sofa in front of her and crossed his long legs as usual, the subtle twitch of his jaw and the glint in his rare golden eyes hinting at the power coiled beneath his calm exterior. He was on the phone, so she stayed for another twenty- four minutes, silently counting every second.
When he got off the phone, her patience wore thin.
"What do you want from me?" she asked in a tremulous whisper.
"What I have always wanted," Brandon responded, fixing his rare golden eyes on her. "I have shed some weight," he added, a faint smirk brushing his lips as he relaxed his shoulders.
Emma looked at him and lowered her gaze.
"You never told me what you wanted from me," she whimpered, and he kept staring at her with an unsmiling, predatory face.
"Are you sure?" he asked, his tone soft yet laced with a low, almost growling undertone that hinted at the beast beneath.
She racked her brain but couldn't remember him telling her.
"I can't remember," she admitted.
Another long silence filled the lounge. Brandon's rare golden eyes seemed to pierce straight through her, drawing out her thoughts and laying them bare.
One of the guards shifted slightly, uneasy with the tension between them.
"Alpha…" he began softly.
Brandon didn't even look at him.
"Leave."
The guards instantly stepped back, retreating to the corridor.
"Claim me as your mate," Brandon said, voice calm yet brimming with raw, wolfish energy that made her wolf-heart pound.
She swallowed hard. "You have purchased me already; haven't you?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Legally," he replied, the weight behind the word echoing through the room.
She was short of words. She couldn't believe the enemy she had avoided for the past three years—the powerful, dangerous Alpha—had finally cornered her. She felt weak and defeated.
Brandon waved at one of the worriors in suits, all half-transformed werewolves, claws neatly retracting into gloves. He opened his briefcase and gave her some documents to sign.
She looked up at the he-wolf.
"Don't worry, everything is there. Your passport and—"
"Where did you get my passport?" she interrupted, eyes wide in awe.
The Alpha's Advocate glanced at Brandon, who was on another call, before continuing.
"With money, you can get everything," he said, returning to his call.
Emma's anger flared, but she signed the papers without reading them. She was ready to face whatever life threw at her.
As the pen left the paper, Brandon's rare golden eyes flicked toward her hand. A faint, almost invisible pulse of energy stirred in the air—so subtle Emma didn't notice.
But Brandon did. His fingers curled slowly against his knee.
The Alpha's Advocate put the papers back in his briefcase and stood to leave. Brandon called him back and whispered something into his ear.
Emma stood up, expecting him to call her too, but he did not. She loved the small house and already felt like it was hers.
The distance between the house and the main building was vast. Thoughts raced through her mind as she walked back to the small, gorgeous house.
Will he spend time with me, or will we live as strangers? she wondered.
She longed to know him more, but saw no way forward.
She threw herself on the bed when she entered her chamber and slept off the tension.
Brandon sat on his bed, examining the signed papers. His full name and true werewolf lineage were clearly stated. He was pleased Emma hadn't read the details—she wouldn't have agreed to marry him otherwise.
"There was no other way," he murmured to himself.
A hidden vault in the wall of his chamber, controlled by claw print and scent recognition, opened slowly as he placed his claw on the spot. He hid the papers inside and stared at the portraits on his wall, whispering, "I really missed you, The dark moon park missed you too … I'm sorry I couldn't keep one of the promises."
Dinner time came. Brandon waited, but his mate was not present. Probably still upset over their earlier encounter. He pressed the intercom. Bernard, his trusted half-blood wolf servant, appeared.
"Sir," Bernard prostrated.
Brandon wiped his lips with a napkin and said, "Find out what is wrong with her and get back to me."
Two of his guards accompanied him to the strategy chamber.
"Alright, sir."
Emma was woken by Mr. Richard's rattletrap outside. She laughed, quickly got down from the bed, and met him.
"You missed dinner," he said immediately. Bernard walked beside him.
"There is no cookhouse here," she said weakly, sitting on the sofa.
"None of the houses have cookhouse. There is a general cookhouse and a banquet hall. The alpha feeds everyone," Bernard explained.
"Where is the banquet hall?"
"In the main building," Bernard replied.
"You don't expect me to walk there every day, do you?" she asked, raising her voice slightly.
"My alpha kept you here because you weren't legally claimed. Now, with the papers signed, he can finally be with his mate," Bernard said with a sly grin.
"What's your name?" she asked.
"Bernard."
"I want to have a chat. Would you mind?"
He shook his head, waving Mr. Richard away. She waited until he left.
"I heard your Alpha is a nasty warlord and he is already claimed. Is it true?"
"What difference would truth make? You are his mate now. Had you asked me before agreeing to claim him, I would've told you what you wanted to hear," Bernard said, voice slightly resentful.
"Is he a killer?"
"No."
She exhaled, relieved.
"Can you describe him in one sentence?"
"A man who gives enough grace but no second chance," Bernard said, unsmiling.
"The she-wolf hovering around him, who is she?"
"I don't meddle in his private affairs. I mind my business."
"How long have you been working for him?"
"Fifteen years."
"What,how old were you then??"
"Since I was nine. His father made me his assistant. We went to the same pack academy and did everything together."
"Why so young?"
"I was homeless. His father gave me a home," Bernard said, grinning.
She smiled faintly, determined to uncover what they were hiding.
Bernard stopped at the door.
"There's something you should know…" he hesitated, then shook his head.
"Never mind. You'll find out soon enough."
The lights flickered.
A low, distant growl rolled through the stronghold walls—deep, ancient, and not entirely human.
Emma's wolf stirred violently inside her.
And somewhere in the main building, something had just awakened… because she had signed those papers.
The papers are signed… but something has awakened.
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