Chapter 2: The Contract
1138 Words
The east wing was too quiet.
My room had a bed bigger than my old cage, hot water that didn’t smell like rust, and windows that didn’t open.
Kade Corp didn’t do fresh air for assets.
I tested the door. Locked.
I tested the window. Reinforced glass.
I tested my temper. Still intact.
I was drying my hair when the door opened without a key.
Darian stood there, hair damp from the rain, setting a tray of real food on the table. Meat, bread, fruit. Not the slop from the holding cells.
“Eat,” he said.
“I’m not hungry.”
“Liar.” He pulled out a chair and sat like he had all night. “You can hate me, Aria. You should. But you’ll eat. I don’t want a dead omega. Rourke gets those.”
I hated that he was right. I hated that I was hungry.
I ate.
“Tomorrow you meet the pack,” he said. “Be ready.”
“The pack doesn’t want me.”
“No. But they’ll accept you. Because I said so.”
He started to leave, then stopped.
“Don’t make me lock you in,” he said quietly. “I don’t want to do that to you.”
“And I don’t want to be here,” I said back.
His mouth twitched. Not quite a smile. “We’re even then.”
The door shut. Locked.
Midnight came and went.
I wasn’t asleep. Every time I closed my eyes I saw Kael’s face, bloodied in that alley.
So when my old burner comm buzzed under the mattress, I almost cried.
I’d hidden it in my boot before the auction. They hadn’t found it.
One message.
“It’s me. Are you alive?”
Kael.
I typed back with shaking hands. Yes. Where are you?”
“Safe. For now. They’re watching me. You?”
"Kade estate. He made a deal.”
The reply took too long.
“Don’t trust him, Ari. He’s Kade. They don’t make deals. They take.”
I didn’t get to answer.
The door burst open.
Darian filled the frame, scent sharp with anger. Behind him, two guards with guns.
“Who were you talking to?” he asked.
I closed the comm. Too late. The screen was still lit.
“Give it to me,” he said.
“No.”
He moved fast. One second he was by the door, the next his hand was around my wrist.
“Give. It. To. Me.”
I twisted, bit down on his forearm. Tasted iron and alpha.
He didn’t flinch. He wrenched the comm free and crushed it in his fist. Plastic and glass fell to the floor.
“Did he tell you where he is?” he asked.
“No.”
“Liar.”
“Let me go!”
He let go. Abruptly. I stumbled back.
Darian stood over me, breathing hard, eyes wild.
“If Rourke finds out you’re contacting him, he’ll use it. He’ll use you,” he said.
“So you’ll control everything?” I shot back. “Is that how this works?”
“Yes,” he said. No hesitation. “Because if I don’t, you’ll get yourself killed.”
For a second, something cracked in his face. Not anger. Something older. Tired.
“I’m not trying to be cruel,” he said quietly. “I’m trying to keep you alive.”
“By owning me?”
“By keeping you mine.”
He left. The door locked.
I sat on the floor and shook.
Dawn came gray and wet.
No breakfast. No guards. Just silence. Punishment by absence.
Fine. I could play that game.
I spent the day mapping the east wing. Memorized guard rotations. Found a loose panel in the bathroom wall. Not an exit, but something.
At dusk, Darian returned. He looked worse. Dark circles under his eyes, blood on his knuckles.
“Father’s worse,” he said. “Poison’s moving faster.”
“So I’m more valuable now.”
“So you’re in more danger now,” he corrected. He tossed a file on the bed.
“Learn it. Pack hierarchy. Bloodlines. Who’s loyal, who’s not. If you’re going to be my omega, you need to know who wants you dead.”
“Why bother? If I’m just here for a year.”
His jaw clenched.
“Because the Blood Moon is in three weeks,” he said. “And if I fail, Rourke takes the pack. And he’ll start with you.”
Three weeks. Not one year.
Three weeks to produce an heir or lose everything.
He left again.
I picked up the file. On top was a photo of Rourke Kade.
He was smiling.
Night fell fast.
I couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t stop thinking about three weeks. About Clause 12. About Kael.
Heat hit me at 2 AM.
It didn’t knock politely. It kicked the door down.
One second I was fine. The next I was burning, my skin too tight, my thoughts reduced to a single, screaming need.
I locked the bathroom door and slid to the floor, clawing at my own arms until I bled.
“Open up,” Darian’s voice came through the door. Low. Rough. Barely human.
“Go to hell.”
“Can’t. You’re in it.”
The lock gave way on the second hit.
He stood in the frame, breathing hard, pupils blown wide. He smelled like rain and blood and control barely held.
“I won’t force you,” he said. His voice shook. “But if you say yes, there’s no going back.”
“If I say no, my brother dies,” I whispered.
“So choose me,” he said. “Not the contract. Me.”
His eyes held mine. No lies there. No games.
Just need.
And something else I didn’t want to name.
I chose him.
I reached for him.
He caught me before I fell.
Morning came too fast.
I woke up in his bed, his scent all over me, my skin marked with teeth and bruises that would fade in a day.
He was awake, propped on one elbow, watching me like I was a problem he couldn’t solve.
“Regret it?” he asked.
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.
He traced a finger over the bite mark on my shoulder. New. Fresh. His.
“Mine,” he said.
I closed my eyes. “Don’t get used to it.”
He didn’t laugh. He just pulled me closer.
Downstairs, I could hear the pack waking. Whispers already starting.
The wild one. The auction omega. The one he claimed in one night
I didn’t care what they said.
Not yet.
Because downstairs, Rourke was listening too.
And he’d just said:
“She’s not leaving this house alive.”
[End of Chapter 2]
- Writer
