Bought by Lycan Kings

The Frozen Boundary

I leaned over the cold porcelain basin, my hands trembling as I splashed freezing water onto my flushed cheeks. My chest heaved, my breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps. *I can't let them smell it. I can't let them know.* I grabbed a plush towel, wiping my mouth, then frantically rubbed the expensive, vanilla-scented soap over my wrists and neck to drown out the metallic tang of morning sickness. But my natural scent—wild honey, cold mountain rain, and sweet, creamy vanilla—seemed to only grow stronger, pulsing with my racing, terrified heartbeat.

Through the thin wood of the bathroom door, their deep voices carried easily, vibrating through the floorboards.

"She smells different, Ragnar," Thorion's voice rumbled, the heavy heat of his raw dominance practically seeping under the door. "It is not just the scent of that coward Frostwood. There is something else. Something sweet. Too sweet."

"She is hiding something," Zephyr replied, his tone a silent, predatory chill. "Her pulse is running at double the normal rate. If she is trying to play us, I will personally ensure she regrets it. I do not care how soft her curves are."

"Enough," Ragnar rumbled, his voice dropping to a dark, authoritative rasp that cut through the others like a blade. "She is our collateral. We will find out what she is hiding soon enough. Bring the contract."

I squeezed my eyes shut, my hand instinctively dropping to my flat stomach. *They can never find out. If they realize I am carrying Eamon's child, they will destroy me. They will see it as a ultimate insult to the Vane Syndicate.*

I forced myself to open the door, stepping back into the massive penthouse office. The scent of ancient sandalwood, raw leather, and dark, heavy musk hit me instantly, thick enough to make my head spin. Ragnar stood by his desk, a thick stack of papers resting under his heavy gold signet ring.

"Are you finished?" Zephyr asked, adjusting his leather gloves. His slate-gray eyes were cold, calculating, and completely devoid of mercy.

"I'm fine," I whispered, my voice trembling. I avoided his gaze, staring at the charcoal carpet. "Just... the stress of the journey."

"The stress of being sold," Thorion grunted, walking over from the glass wall. He squared his massive shoulders, towering over me. The scent of fresh cut cedarwood and smoky pine rolled off him. "Or the stress of what your family left behind?"

Ragnar tapped his ring against the desk, the sharp metallic sound echoing in the quiet room. "Look at this, Morana."

I took a hesitant step forward. On the dark mahogany lay a document. The bold letters at the top read: COLLATERAL TRANSFER AND LIQUIDATION AGREEMENT.

"Your father signed it," Ragnar said, his amber-gold eyes flashing in the dim light. "You are officially the property of the Vane Syndicate. Every curve of your body, every breath you take, belongs to us until your sister's debt is paid in full. One hundred million credits."

*Property. Just like a shield for Isolde. Again. They don't see me as a person. I am just a financial transaction to them.*

"I am not an object," I whispered, my knuckles turning white as I clenched my fists. "I had nothing to do with the silver formula. Isolde is the one who stole it. Why am I the one paying for her crimes?"

"Because you are the one who is here, Morana," Zephyr replied coldly, narrowing his eyes. "Your sister Isolde made sure of that. She personally signed the transfer papers. She told our emissaries that you were eager to take her place."

"She lied!" I choked out, a hot tear slipping down my cheek. "She wanted to get rid of me! They both did! Eamon and Isolde... they wanted me gone!"

"It doesn't matter," Ragnar said, his towering six-foot-six frame completely eclipsing the warmth of the room. He stepped closer, his presence radiating a heavy, primitive heat. "You are ours now. Your pack sold you. You have no one else to run to."

"We will keep you safe," Thorion added, his hazel eyes shifting to bright yellow as his beast rose. He stepped closer, his massive chest nearly touching my shoulder. "But you will obey. If you walk freely through these offices, the rival packs will catch your scent. You stay where we can see you."

"No," I whispered, backing away from them. The sheer intensity of their possessive gazes was suffocating. They didn't see a human; they saw a toy, a breeding animal to be locked away in a gilded cage. My hand instinctively fluttered to my stomach again. *I have to run. If they keep me here, they will find the baby. I have to protect my child.*

"Sit down, Morana," Thorion ordered, growling low in his throat. "You aren't going anywhere."

But panic took over. I didn't think. I didn't plan.

I turned and bolted.

"Morana!" Ragnar's roar echoed behind me, a sound of pure, unhinged fury that made the glass windows rattle.

I didn't use the elevator. I knew they would intercept me. Instead, I threw myself down the concrete emergency stairwell, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. My boots slammed against the steps as I flew down the flights, my voluptuous curves feeling heavy and awkward as I threw myself through the ground floor service exit and into the freezing night.

The heavy metal door slammed shut behind me, the lock clicking. I was outside, but I was far from safe.

The freezing wind of the Dead Zone hit me like a physical blow. The Dead Zone was the lawless, frozen wilderness bordering the city—a place of eternal winter, savage rogue wolves, and sub-zero blizzards. I had no coat. No gloves. Just my wet, oversized wool sweater and my damp pants.

*I have to hide. I have to save my baby.*

I plunged directly into the knee-deep snow, the icy powder immediately soaking through my boots.

"Ah!" I gasped, the freezing air burning my lungs like liquid fire.

The wind howled, a deafening shriek that whipped my thick auburn-red hair across my face. I wrapped my arms tightly around my belly, pressing my hands flat against my lower stomach, trying to offer whatever warmth my body had left to the tiny life inside me.

*Hold on, little one,* I thought, my tears freezing instantly on my flushed cheeks. *I won't let them take you. I won't let them treat you like a debt.*

The snow was relentless, blinding me. Every step was an agony of cold. My thighs burned, my wet pants freezing stiff against my skin. I could barely see two feet in front of me as the blizzard raged on.

"Where are you going, little rabbit?" a cruel, mocking voice sneered in my memory.

*Eamon.*

The scent of rotten pine needles and bitter charcoal ash seemed to linger in the freezing wind, a sickening reminder of his betrayal.

*"You're nothing without me, Morana,"* he had whispered when I begged him to help me escape my family. *"Who would want a soft, useless thing like you? You're just a backup plan. Isolde is the one who matters."*

"I am not a backup plan!" I screamed into the howling storm, my voice swallowed by the wind. "I am going to survive!"

The snow grew deeper, reaching my thighs. My breath came in ragged, desperate gasps, leaving white plumes of steam in the freezing air. My fingers were completely numb, locked in a protective claw over my abdomen. The cold was sinking deep into my bones, slowing my heart, making my head spin.

*I'm so cold. So cold. Please, just a little further.*

Behind me, through the roaring blizzard, a sound broke the night.

A deep, resonant howl.

It wasn't a rogue. It was too powerful, too dominant. It was the sound of a king reclaiming what was his.

*Ragnar.*

They were tracking me. My scent—wild honey and vanilla—was probably cutting through the freezing air like a beacon to their hyper-sensitive Lycan noses.

"No, please," I sobbed, stumbling forward, my legs shaking violently.

I reached the edge of a steep, rocky ridge. Below lay a dark, heavily forested ravine, the pine trees looking like sharp black teeth in the snow. I tried to find a path down, my boots slipping on the slick, hidden ice beneath the powder.

Suddenly, another howl ripped through the trees, much closer this time. It was joined by a second, deeper roar—Thorion. They were closing in.

"Morana!" Zephyr's voice carried over the wind, cold and commanding. "Stop running! You will freeze to death!"

"Never!" I cried out, the wind snatching the word from my lips.

I took a hasty step along the ledge, searching desperately for a way down into the trees.

But the snow beneath my feet gave way.

My foot slipped on the icy ledge.

"Ah!"

The ground vanished. I lost my footing, my hands flying out from my belly for a split second before I instinctively curled my body to protect my womb. I went sliding down, tumbling into the dark, frozen ravine, the sharp branches clawing at my clothes as a massive wolf's howl echoed through the trees.