The velvet night bled into the sharp lights of New York's skyline as the limousine coasted up the private road. Then the limousine slid silently through the gates of the Vale estate, a fortress perched on Manhattan's highest ridge, where the city's heartbeat was just a distant thrum. Emma Grey's breath caught as the driver opened the door, the cold night air biting at her bare legs beneath the stolen cocktail dress. She hesitated on the marble steps, every instinct screaming to turn and vanish into the dark.The tires barely made a sound on the pristine driveway of the Vale estate—an architectural marvel of steel, glass, and shadows perched like a crown.
She tugged the hem of her dress lower over her thighs, heart hammering in her chest as the gates shut behind her. She wasn't supposed to be here.
And yet… here she was. But this night wasn't about running anymore.
Not when the debt was crushing her like a weight she couldn't escape. Not when the pack she fled still hunted her with relentless hunger.
She was a rogue. Marked. Broken. Desperate. Hunted. And tonight, she was going to face the storm.
Every instinct in her blood screamed at her to run. But instincts didn't pay debt. And they sure as hell didn't protect her from the bounty placed on her head by the pack she fled.
So she did what she swore she never would again.
She knocked on the devil's door.
And it opened.
The heavy oak doors parted silently, revealing a butler who said nothing, didn't ask questions. But saw everything. His eyes flicked over her—bruises hidden beneath delicate skin, or the cheap heels that dug into her soles. He Didn't flinch at the scent of wolf trailing off her skin. The faint scent of wolf and desperation trailing like a ghost—and simply nodded.
"Mr. Vale is expecting you," he said, voice as cold as the winter night.
Lies. Sebastian never expected her. No one ever expected her. Especially not him.
Sebastian Vale—the name alone sent ripples through the underworld. Billionaire CEO of Vale Industries. Alpha of the Manhattan pack. A man forged in ice and fire, whose gaze could make kingdoms crumble. He is cold. Unreachable. Dangerous. The man who could end her with a word... or protect her with one.
Five years had passed since she'd vanished from his world, vanished from the only life she'd ever known. Since she'd walked away from the mating ceremony—the promise, the future, him.
And now, she was back. Emma swallowed the lump in her throat and stepped inside.
The scent hit her first. Sebastian's scent hit her like a damn punch. Pine and musk, with a sharp undercurrent of smoke. Pure alpha. It curled around her like chains, familiar and terrifying, igniting things deep inside her she'd buried long ago.
He stood framed by the towering windows, the city's lights a muted backdrop to the storm brewing inside his eyes. His jaw was set, his posture perfect—a predator waiting to pounce or retreat. Neither seemed to matter tonight.
Broad-shouldered. Sharp suit. Whiskey in hand.
Unbothered by her presence… but aware of it. That subtle shift in the air between predators. His gaze didn't move from the skyline.
"Close the door," he said without turning.
The voice was the same—low, smooth, lethal.
Emma's hands trembled ever so slightly as she obeyed.
"You're either insane or desperate," he said, eyes finally cutting to her.
Emma walked in, her spine iron, her face unreadable. "Can't it be both?" then she added, " No, maybe I'm both," she breathed, stepping closer.
Now he looked.
And fuck—it was worse than she remembered.
His eyes, ice-grey and lined with something cruel, His gaze was ice, slicing through layers she'd built. No warmth. No welcome. No softness. No memory of what they once were. Only a wall she couldn't climb.
"You shouldn't have come here," he said.
"I didn't have a choice."
Sebastian's glass lifted, the amber liquid catching the light. "There's always a choice. You just chose wrong. Again."
She felt the weight of those words settle in her chest, but she refused to flinch.
He walked toward her slowly, then started circling her slowly, like a predator testing prey, each movement deliberate, his eyes roaming over the bruise she'd tried to hide. Every inch of her felt exposed.
"You smell like death," he murmured. "Like blood and regret."
Emma's smirk was sharp but hollow. It didn't reach her eyes. "And you smell like power and arrogance. Some things never change."
They stood inches apart now.
The air crackled. No touches, just heat radiating from two wounded souls locked in a silent battle.
"You left me," he said quietly.
"I was never yours to keep."
Sebastian's voice dropped to a growl. "You were mine the moment you took your first breath as wolfbane. I marked you."
"And I rejected you."
Sebastian's jaw clenched, a storm behind his eyes. "A rejection doesn't erase the bond, Emma."
Silence stretched thickly between them. She could feel his anger like static sparking against her skin. But under it… want.
Beneath the bitter words, a fire still burned—wild, dangerous, impossible to ignore.
Emma's voice was steady but fierce. "I need protection." she finally said, lifting her chin.
His laugh was bitter, slow. Mocking. "Now that's a rich joke."
Emma held his gaze. "I'll sign a contract. Anything."
"Anything?" His brow lifted, amused.
"I'll marry you. Tonight. Publicly. Be the Luna you want."
He didn't answer right away. He stepped closer, the heat between them igniting.
"You're offering your body to save your life."
"I'm offering the truth," she shot back.
His fingers brushed her cheek—soft but with a cruelty that cut deep. "And here I thought you had pride."
"Did you lose all pride?"
Emma shoved his hand away. "I lost it the day you betrayed me and I found out you were sleeping with my sister."
His expression darkened, but he said nothing.
Because he was the devil she once loved.
And she had nothing left to lose.
The world erupted the next day.
"SEBASTIAN VALE MARRIES LONG-LOST FIANCÉE IN MIDNIGHT CEREMONY."
The photo was everywhere. Her in white. Him in black. Her eyes hollow. His cold.
The headline screamed lies and secrets, but the wolves smelled the truth—the storm beneath the surface.
Their wedding night was no fairy tale.
No soft touches or whispered promises. It was no fairy tale neither it was a union of love.
It was war.
Sebastian pinned her against the wall of their penthouse bedroom, hand tangled in her hair, voice rough.
"You signed the contract. Now play your role."
Emma snarled, eyes burning with defiance. "I didn't agree to be your prisoner nor did I agree to be your whore."
"No," he whispered close to her ear. "You agreed to be my wife."
His kiss was a battlefield—brutal, demanding, tearing down every wall she'd built.
She kissed back, wild and desperate.
Their bodies clashed like fire and steel—clothes torn, skin marked, breaths ragged.
This wasn't mating.
This was claiming.
When the storm passed, they lay tangled in silk and sweat.
Emma stared at the ceiling, heart pounding.
Sebastian's silence was louder than any words.
Finally, she whispered, voice raw, "Why did you agree to this?"
His eyes caught hers—icy, merciless.
"To make you pay."