The Alpha’s Contract Wife

Chapter 5

Aria POV

Twenty guns.

Pointed at us.

The Council leader smiled. "Last chance, Blackthorne. Hand her over."

Damien didn’t move, He stood in front of me. Broad shoulders blocking everything.

"No," he said. "She’s mine."

"She’s Council property," the man said. "Silver blood belongs to us."

"She belongs to no one," Damien said. "Except me."

My heart was pounding so loud I could hear it,

Damien’s men shifted. Hands on guns.

One wrong move and this room would be a bloodbath.

"Stand down," Damien told his men quietly. "Don’t fire unless I do."

"Smart," the Council leader said. "You’re outnumbered."

"Numbers don’t matter," Damien said. "I do."

The man laughed. "Arrogant to the end. Take her."

Two Council men stepped forward.

Damien moved. Fast.

The first punch dropped a man. The second broke a wrist.

Gunfire.

I screamed and ducked behind the couch.

"Get down!" Damien yelled.

Chaos.

Shouting, Breaking glass.

I crawled. Found a door. Basement.

I ran down, Dark.

Footsteps behind me.

"Looking for you, Aria," Lucas called. "Always running."

I turned. He was there. Gun in his hand.

"Put it down," I said. My voice shook.

"Or what?" He smiled. "You gonna slap me again?"

He raised the gun.

The door behind him opened,

Damien.

He didn’t say anything. He just shot.

Lucas dropped.

The gun clattered.

I ran to Damien. He pulled me into him.

"You’re okay," he said. It wasn’t a question. "You’re okay."

"I’m okay," I whispered.

Upstairs, the shooting stopped.

Silence.

Damien kept his arm around me as we walked up.

Council men were on the floor. Handcuffed. His men standing over them.

The Council leader was alive. Bleeding from the leg.

"You can’t win this," he spat. "The Council will come for her."

"Let them," Damien said. He looked at me. "She’s under my protection now. By marriage. By law. By blood."

"Blood?" the man laughed. "What blood?"

Damien turned to me. His eyes were dark.

"Show them," he said quietly.

"What?"

"Your wrist," he said. "Cut it."

I stared at him. "What?"

"Trust me," he said.

I picked up a shard of glass from the floor, My hand shook.

I dragged it across my palm.

Red.

Then it shimmered.

Silver.

The whole room went quiet.

The Council leader’s face went pale.

"Impossible," he whispered. "Silver blood doesn’t manifest like that. Not without—"

"Without what?" Damien asked.

"Without the mate bond," the man said. "She’s bonded to you."

Damien looked at me. Really looked.

"Mate," he said. Like he was testing the word.

"I don’t understand," I said.

"It means the contract wasn’t a lie," Damien said. "It means you’re mine. In every way."

My knees gave out.

He caught me.

"Get them out of my house," he told his men. "Now."

The Council was dragged out.

Lucas was carried out too. Still breathing.

The house was quiet again.

Damien carried me to my room. Set me on the bed.

He took my hand. The cut was already closing. Silver light under the skin.

"Does it hurt?" he asked.

"No," I said. "Why did you know?"

"I’ve been waiting for someone like you my whole life," he said. "The Council killed the last one. I wasn’t going to let them kill you too."

"So this was never about the money?"

"It was about you," he said. "From the moment I smelled you."

He leaned down. His forehead touched mine.

"I’m not good at this," he said. "But you’re mine, Aria. Say it."

"Yours," I whispered.

His mouth came down on mine,

It wasn’t soft. It was desperate. Possessive.

Like he’d been holding back for days.

I kissed him back.

When he pulled away, he was breathing hard.

"Say it again," he said.

"Mine," I said.

Something in him broke.

He pulled me onto his lap. His arms locked around me.

"Nobody touches you," he growled. "Nobody hurts you. Nobody gets close to you but me. Do you understand?"

"Yes," I said.

"Good." He buried his face in my neck. "Because I don’t share."

The window rattled.

Both of us looked up.

On the glass, written in red.

_If she’s yours, then come and get her._

_The Council has Maya._

My blood went cold.

"Maya," I whispered.

Damien was already on his feet, Phone to his ear.

"Get the cars," he said. "We’re going to war."

He looked at me.

"Get dressed," he said. "You’re coming with me."

"But—"

"You’re mine," he said. "And I don’t leave what’s mine behind."

He pulled me up.

Outside, engines started.

And my phone buzzed.

A photo.

Maya. Hospital bed. IV in her arm.

A Council hand on her throat.

The text underneath.

_24 hours. Bring the girl. Or she dies._

_- The Council_