Chapter 7 Secret Between Two Alphas

KATNISS

“In love?”

I let out a sharp, bitter bark of laughter, the sound echoing off the high ceiling of the study.

I scoffed, crossing my arms tightly as I glared up at the massive wall of muscle standing in front of me.

“Are you out of your goddamn mind, Blackthorn? Why the fuck would I want to be in love with you? Better yet, who the hell is going to buy that load of horseshit?”

Hassan didn't even blink.

He adjusted the silver cufflink on his left sleeve with a maddening, ice-cold precision. “They’ll buy it because the alternative makes you look like a desperate, trembling little target, Katniss.”

“A target?” I spat, my silver-gray eyes flashing with immediate defiance. “I am the future Luna of the Ashbourne Pack. I just ripped up a treaty with the golden boy of the North to save my people. I am a lot of fucking things right now, but I am not a target.”

“You’re a fool if you think a piece of paper protects you from gossip,” Hassan countered, his deep baritone dropping into a dangerously calm register. He took a slow step forward, his immense shadow completely blocking out the sunlight from the window. “A contract marriage is easy to write. Convincing an entire world that it was real is the difficult part.”

“I don't give a shit about the world's opinion,” I growled, refusing to step back, even though the intoxicating scent of cedarwood and dark ozone vibrating from his skin was trying to hijack my senses. “They can think whatever they want as long as your enforcers are standing on my borders.”

“Then you don't understand the very society you’re trying to navigate,” Hassan said, his dark gray eyes drilling into mine with a chillingly sharp intellect. “Werewolf society does not accept powerful Alpha marriages without emotional connection. It’s a foundational weakness, Katniss. If the Council believes you ran to my bed solely for protection, they won't see a strategic alliance. They will see a broken, terrified woman hiding behind a bigger monster.”

The words struck a raw, agonizing nerve deep in my chest.

Weakness. The phantom sensation of Selene’s silver blade twisting between my ribs flared up, cold and suffocating.

In my first life, I had been weak. I had been a naive, trusting puppet who let a man manipulate her into an early grave. I would rather choke on my own blood than let this world perceive me as vulnerable ever again.

“They won't see me as weak,” I whispered fiercely, my knuckles turning white as I clenched my fists. “I’ll tear the throat out of anyone who tries.”

“Enemies will attack any weakness they see, real or imagined,” Hassan stated, his tone completely void of empathy, presenting the harsh reality like a seasoned general. “If Damien Ravenscar thinks this is just a cold business deal, he won't back down. He’ll look for the cracks in our foundation. He’ll try to buy you out, or worse, he’ll realize your wolf is completely silent and use it to invalidate the contract entirely.”

I froze, a jolt of pure panic shooting straight down my spine. He noticed. Hassan knew my inner wolf was completely dormant, locked away behind the heavy trauma of my rebirth. He didn't know why, thank the gods, but his sharp observation was terrifying.

“Fine,” I spat, swallowing the bitter taste of anxiety rising in my throat. “So we lie. We put on a goddamn show. But I dislike the idea of pretending, Hassan. I fucking hate it.”

“It’s a necessary facade,” he replied smoothly.

“You don't get it,” I muttered, my voice cracking slightly with a sudden wave of raw, unyielding resentment.

The memory of Damien’s beautiful, lying face flashed behind my eyes—the way he used to hold my hand, the way he used to whisper promises of a grand future right before he watched me drown in my own blood.

“I spent a year pretending everything was perfect with Damien. I know exactly how easily pretending can destroy your entire fucking life. Turning my life into another scripted performance makes me sick.”

Hassan stared at me, his intense gaze shifting slightly as he tracked the sudden, volatile emotion bleeding through my defenses. For a long, suffocating moment, he didn't say a word. He didn't push. He didn't use his dominant Alpha aura to force compliance. He just stood there, observing the fractured pieces of my composure with a strange, heavy quietness.

“This isn't Damien’s script, Katniss,” Hassan said quietly, his deep voice carrying a strange, grounded weight that momentarily silenced the chaotic screaming in my head. “It’s ours. And unlike your ex, I don't write lies that lead to a slaughter. We build a story that makes them back the fuck off.”

I took a deep, stabilizing breath, forcing the ghosts of my past life back into the dark corner of my mind. “Alright. Alright, dammit. What is our first attempt at creating a believable story? How do we explain the fact that the Ashbourne heiress suddenly dumped her fiancé for the Shadow King?”

“We keep it simple,” Hassan said, leaning back against the edge of the mahogany desk, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “The best lies are built on a framework of truth. What is our public explanation?”

“We unexpectedly met,” I offered, my mind quickly pivoting into a cold, tactical space. “We met at the cross-border summit last month. We discovered we were highly compatible, and we chose each other despite the political differences. A sudden, consuming mutual respect that neither of us could ignore.”

“Compatible,” Hassan repeated, the word rolling off his tongue with a low, dangerous vibration that made my skin prickle. “A bit clinical, don't you think? If we want Damien to burn with enough rage to lose his tactical edge, it needs to look like a sudden, uncontrollable fixation. A mutual choice that makes the Ravenscar treaty look like a redundant piece of trash.”

“You want me to act like a lovesick idiot?” I scoffed, rolling my eyes. “I am not simping over you in public, Blackthorn.”

“I don't expect you to simp, Katniss,” he said, a dry, ruthless humor sparking in his dark eyes. “I expect you to stand by my side like a queen who found her match, not a victim who found a bodyguard. Whenever we enter the banquet hall, you look at me like I am the only individual in the room worth your time. I will do the same.”

“Can the feared Alpha of the North even look at someone without wanting to execute them?” I taunted, a sharp, sarcastic smile cutting through my features.

“Try me,” Hassan murmured, his gaze dropping to my lips for a fraction of a second, sending an erratic, fiery tremor straight through my core.

I shook my head, clearing the strange, suffocating tension that was suddenly saturating the room. “We have a plan then. Orion will formalize the papers. I will deal with the fallout of my father’s screaming, and then we face the vipers at the dinner table.”

“Good,” Hassan said, straightening his suit jacket and preparing to exit the study through the side terrace doors to avoid the scouts. He paused, his large hand resting on the brass handle as he turned his head to look back at me one last time. His expression had returned to that impenetrable, chilling mask.

“Before leaving, there is one more thing you need to prepare for,” Hassan said, his dark gray eyes locking onto mine with an unyielding intensity.

“What?” I asked, my hand gripping the signed parchment tightly against my thigh.

“Tomorrow, you will meet my people,” Hassan said flatly.

I froze. The breath completely caught in my throat, my silver-gray eyes widening as a cold wave of apprehension washed over me.

Tomorrow. The Blackthorn estate. The inner circle.

Hassan didn't wait for my response; he simply stepped through the doors and vanished into the shadows of the corridor, leaving the scent of cedar and ozone lingering in the quiet room.

I stood entirely alone, my heart hammering a frantic, terrifying rhythm against my ribs. I knew exactly what that meeting meant.

Tomorrow, I wasn't just entering a new territory.

I was walking straight into the lion’s den, preparing to face the high enforcers, the ruthless advisors, and the elite military commanders who knew exactly what kind of blood-soaked monster Hassan Blackthorn truly was.

And if they saw through my facade for even a single second, the shield I had just traded my freedom for would shatter into a million fucking pieces.