Bound to the Bastard Alpha

Sloane; ​The marble floors of the Thorne Estate were so shiny I could see the reflection of my own failure. ​"Step back, sweetheart. This isn't a soup kitchen," the guard growled. He was built like a brick wall and smelled like cheap cigars. He blocked the entrance to the Grand Ballroom with a sneer. ​I didn't step back. Instead, I gripped the strap of my heavy, grease-stained canvas tool bag. It was the only thing I had left from the workshop. "I’m not here for a meal. I’m here to collect a debt." ​"The only thing you're collecting is a trip to the curb," he reached for my arm. ​I dodged him, my wolf humming under my skin, begging me to let her out. "Tell Caleb Reed his lead mechanic is here. Tell him if he doesn't talk to me, I’ll tell his new bride exactly how he 'acquired' the blueprints for the Vanguard engine." ​The guard’s face went pale. Everyone knew the Thorne family didn't like scandals—or thieves. He stepped aside, muttering into his radio. ​I didn't wait. I pushed through the heavy oak doors. ​The air inside was thick with the scent of lilies and arrogance. Women in silk dresses turned their noses up as I walked by. I looked like a grease fire in a flower shop. My boots left dusty prints on their white carpet. My hair was a wild nest of dark curls, and my heart was a drum of pure, hot rage. ​I didn't go to the chapel. I went straight for the "Gold Room" where the men drank whiskey before the slaughter. I kicked the door open. ​Caleb stood there. He looked disgusting in a white tuxedo. He looked like he had never worked a day in his life—which was true, because I had done all the work for him. ​"Sloane?" He choked on his drink. "What the hell is this? Look at you. You’re covered in dirt." ​"This 'dirt' is from the shop you locked me out of this morning," I said, my voice low and dangerous. I dropped my tool bag on his expensive table with a loud thud. "You stole my passwords. You emptied the business account. My grandmother’s hospital called me an hour ago, Caleb. The check bounced." ​Caleb set his glass down. He looked at me with pity, which was worse than anger. "Sloane, we talked about this. You’re a great mechanic, but you don't have the 'image' for the Thorne merger. Seraphina wanted a clean slate. I had to let you go." ​"Let me go?" I laughed, but there was no humor in it. "You erased me. You took four years of my life and put your name on my designs. I lived in that garage for you. I bled for you." ​He walked over to a mirror, fixing his tie as if I wasn't even there. "The world doesn't pay for 'effort,' Sloane. It pays for names. And my name is about to be Thorne." ​"You’re a parasite," I whispered. ​He turned, his eyes turning cold. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a thick roll of cash. He peeled off a few bills and tossed them at my feet. They fluttered through the air like dying birds. ​"There. That’s for your 'effort.' Now get out before I have security treat you like the stray dog you are." ​I looked at the money on the floor. My hands shook. My grandmother was gasping for air in a hospital bed because of this man. ​"Is that all I’m worth to you?" I asked. ​Caleb stepped closer. He leaned in, smelling like expensive bourbon. "You want more? Fine. The wedding is in twenty minutes. I’m feeling a bit tense. Come to the dressing room, get on your knees, and remind me why I kept you around for four years. If you’re good, I’ll pay for the hospital bill myself." ​My hand moved before I could think. SMACK. ​The sound of my palm hitting his face echoed like a gunshot. His head snapped back. ​"Keep your money," I spat, my voice trembling with a mix of hate and heartbreak. "I’d rather rot in the street than touch you again." ​I grabbed my bag and turned, blinded by tears I refused to let fall. I burst out of the room, running through the hallway, needing to escape the suffocating smell of his betrayal. ​I rounded a corner too fast and slammed into a wall. ​Except the wall was warm. It was solid. It was made of leather and muscle. ​I stumbled back, looking up. ​A man stood there. He was massive, his shadow swallowing me whole. He wore a black leather biker jacket over a dark suit. His arms were covered in ink, and his eyes... they weren't human. They were a piercing, icy blue that seemed to look right through my skin and into my soul. ​Killian Thorne. ​The room went silent. The air felt heavy, like a storm was about to break. ​"You're bleeding," he said. His voice was a deep, low rumble that made my wolf go completely still.