SOLD TO THE ALPHA KING

The door looked like the entrance to a crypt.

I stared at the intricate carvings of wolves tearing apart a stag, my breath hitching in my 

throat, so dry it felt like sandpaper. Inside that room sat the man who now owned the deed to my life.

"Don't embarrass me, Bailey," my stepfather, Lancaster, muttered from beside me. He didn't look at me. He was too busy checking the heavy gold watch on his wrist, likely calculating how quickly he could get to the casino once he handed me over. "Just nod, agree to whatever he says, and spread your legs when told. It’s not rocket science."

I didn't turn to look at him. If I did, I might claw his eyes out, and I needed my hands intact for whatever hell awaited me.

"You got your money, Lancaster," I whispered, my voice devoid of emotion. I had cried all my tears three days ago when the deal was struck. Now, I was just hollow. "Leave."

"Ungrateful bitch," he spat, then shoved me toward the doors. "He’s waiting."

I stumbled forward, catching my balance just as the handle turned. The doors swung open, not by a servant, but by an unseen force, or perhaps just the sheer gravity of the man inside.

I stepped into the lion’s den. Or rather, the Wolf King’s lair.

The office was massive, dimly lit by a roaring fireplace that did little to warm the chill in the air. The scent of old books, expensive scotch, and something metallic—like blood—hung heavy. 

But then, underneath it all, another scent hit me.

It was faint at first. Sharp. Intoxicating. Like a thunderstorm breaking over a pine forest.

My wolf stirred for the first time in years, scratching at the back of my mind.

My heart stopped.

No. I froze in the center of the Persian rug. The leather chair behind the massive ebony desk swiveled slowly.

Rider Thorne. The Alpha King.

He looked like the kind of man people didn’t say no to . That was the first tragedy. He had a jawline, sharp enough to cut glass, hair the color of midnight that fell messily over his forehead, and eyes...

His eyes were gray. Not a soft, cloudy gray, but the color of steel before it strikes.

"You're late," he said.

His voice was a low rumble, a vibration that traveled through the floorboards and straight up my legs.

My wolf howled, pushing forward desperately confusing me.

I dug my fingernails into my palms until the skin broke. Shut up, I commanded her. He bought us. He didn't choose us.

Rider didn’t sniff the air. He didn’t widen his eyes. He didn’t stiffen. He just looked at me with an expression of utter boredom, as if I were a piece of furniture he had ordered and was now inspecting for scratches.

"My... my stepfather had trouble with the car," I lied, my voice shaking despite my best efforts.

Rider stood up. He was massive, easily six-foot-four, with shoulders that strained against his black dress shirt. He walked around the desk, his movements predatory and silent. He stopped three feet away from me.

"I don't care about your stepfather," Rider said, his tone flat. "And I don't care about your excuses."

He circled me. I felt like a prize cow at an auction. He didn't touch me, but his gaze felt like a physical weight dragging down my skin.

"You know why you are here, Bailey," he stated. It wasn't a question.

"Yes."

"Say it."

I swallowed hard, fighting the urge to vomit. "To provide... to provide heirs."

Rider stopped in front of me. He reached out, his hand hovering near my chin. My breath hitched. For a second, a foolish, naive second, I thought he might feel the spark. I thought he might touch my skin and realize that I wasn't just a transaction.

He gripped my chin roughly, tilting my head up and to the side, inspecting my neck. His fingers were cold. No sparks. Just pressure.

"Clean," he muttered to himself, dropping his hand as if I were contaminated. He walked back to his desk and leaned against the edge, crossing his arms over his chest. "Let's be clear about the rules of this arrangement. I have acquired you for a singular purpose. My Beta, Ritchie, tells me your bloodline is fertile. That is your only value to me."

The words were like knives, precise and aimed at my vital organs. Your only value. His words echoed in my mind.

"I understand," I managed to say.

"Good. Because I have no patience for romance, or clingy behavior, or emotions," Rider said, his gray eyes boring into mine. "You will live in the East Wing. You will not enter my office unless summoned. You will not speak to my pack members unless necessary. And when I visit your room, you will be compliant."

"And the baby?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper. "Once... once the baby is born?"

Rider picked up a glass of amber liquid from his desk and took a sip, his eyes never leaving mine. "Once you produce a viable son, your debt is cleared. You will be given a sum of money, and you will leave. The child stays."

My knees nearly buckled. He was going to take my baby.

"I... I get to leave?"

"You get to disappear," he corrected. "I don't want my heir to have a mother with a price tag on her head. You will sever all ties."

He was a monster. A beautiful monster.

"What if it's a girl?" I asked, testing the waters.

Rider’s expression darkened. The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees. "Then we keep trying until you get it right."

He set the glass down with a heavy clink.

"Liam," he barked.

The side door opened instantly, and a tall, wiry man with glasses stepped in. He looked exhausted. This must be the assistant.

"Yes, Alpha?"

"Take her to the medical wing. Natalie needs to run the final tests. I want to make sure the merchandise is not damaged," Rider said, turning his back on me to look out the window at the dark forest beyond.

Property.

Tears pricked my eyes, hot and stinging, but I refused to let them fall. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction. "This way, Miss," Liam said gently, gesturing to the door.

I looked at Rider’s broad back one last time. "Do you even know my last name?" I asked. I don't know why I said that. Maybe I wanted to see if he was capable of human conversation.

Rider didn’t turn around. "Does it matter?"

I turned and walked out, my heart shattering in my chest.

The medical wing was sterile and smelled of antiseptic. Natalie, the pack doctor, was kind but efficient. She poked, prodded, drew blood, and checked my hips. She didn't ask if I was okay. Everyone here seemed terrified of the man upstairs.

"You're healthy," Natalie said, snapping off her gloves. "Ideally suited for carrying high-ranking pups. Though..." She hesitated, looking at my chart. "You're young."

"I'm twenty-two," I said, pulling my shirt back down. "Old enough to be sold."

Natalie winced. "Rider... the King... he has a lot of pressure on him. The council is demanding an heir. His line is the strongest, but there are threats. He needs to secure the succession."

"So he buys a woman?"

"He doesn't trust anyone enough to court them," Natalie sighed. "He thinks love makes you weak. He watched his parents die because of it. To him, this is safer. Business."

"It's slavery," I corrected.

Natalie didn't argue. She just pointed me toward the door where Liam was waiting to escort me to my room.

My room was luxurious, I’d give him that. A king-sized bed, silk sheets, a balcony overlooking the gardens. But it was still a cage. I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the locked door.

I waited.

Hours ticked by. The moon rose high, casting silvery light across the floor. I should have been planning my escape. I should have been hating him. But my stupid wolf was pacing, whining, waiting for him.

He’s coming, she whispered.

The handle turned.

I stood up, my pulse hammering in my throat.

Rider walked in. He had shed the suit jacket. His tie was undone, hanging loosely around his neck, and the top buttons of his shirt were popped open, revealing a glimpse of tanned skin and dark ink. He looked tired. And dangerous.

He didn't say a word. He locked the door behind him with a decisive click.

He walked toward me, and the air in the room grew heavy with his dominance. I backed up until my legs hit the mattress.

"Strip," he said.

No hello. No preamble.

I swallowed. "Rider..."

"King Rider," he corrected, his voice a low growl. He stopped inches away from me. I could smell the whiskey on his breath, mixed with that addictive pine scent. It was making me dizzy. "And I didn't come here to talk."

"Can't we... can't we at least pretend like this is normal?" I pleaded, my voice trembling. "I'm a person."

Rider looked down at me, his eyes hooded. For a second, I saw a flicker of something in his gaze. Exhaustion? Pain? But it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by that steel wall.

He reached out and traced the line of my jaw with his thumb. A strange heat passed through me when he touched me. He frowned, looking at his own hand as if he felt a static shock, but he shook it off.

"You aren't a person tonight, Bailey," he whispered, his voice rough, leaning down until his lips brushed against the shell of my ear. "Tonight, you are a solution to a problem."

He pulled back, his eyes cold and empty.

"Now," he commanded, his voice dropping to an Alpha command that forced my knees to buckle. "Get on the bed."

I gasped, my body reacting to the command against my will. As I scrambled backward onto the silk sheets, terrified and aroused and heartbroken all at once, I realized the truth.

I could wait for him to love me. I could hope the bond would snap into place.

But looking at the dead look in his eyes as he unbuckled his belt, I knew one thing for certain.

He wasn't going to break my heart. He was going to obliterate it.