The contract smelled like old coffee and desperation.
My desperation, specifically. His coffee.
Alpha Kael Blackwood didn't look at me when I walked into his study. He was reading something on his phone. A stock report, maybe. Or a message from someone he actually cared about.
The room was all dark wood and colder than any building had a right to be in October. Rain streaked the floor-to-ceiling windows behind his desk. A fire crackled in the hearth ten feet away, but I couldn't feel it. Couldn't feel anything except the knot in my stomach and the empty growl I'd been ignoring since yesterday.
My hands shook as I stopped in front of his desk.
Not from fear.
From hunger.
I'd given my last protein bar to Lila that morning. Told her I'd eaten already. She was eight. She believed me. That was the worst part.
"Sit." Kael didn't look up.
I sat.
The leather chair swallowed me. I was too small for it. Too small for this room. Too small for the house I'd walked through to get here — all marble floors and crystal chandeliers and silence so thick it felt like drowning.
I was an omega from a dying pack.
He was the Ice Alpha.
This was not going to end well for me.
But Lila needed warm milk before bed. And I was out of options.
"Page three," Kael said, finally setting down his phone. He slid a thick binder across the desk. It landed in front of me with a heavy thud. "Sign there. Initial here, here, and here. You have ten minutes to read it."
Ten minutes.
For a document that looked longer than my arm.
I opened the binder. The pages were warm from his hands. I tried not to think about that.
Omega Surrogacy and Residency Agreement
Between Kael Blackwood, Alpha of the Northridge Pack (hereinafter "Alpha") and Elara Vance, Omega of the Fellshadow Pack (hereinafter "Surrogate")
My eyes glazed over by page two. Legal terms. Medical waivers. Nutritional requirements. A schedule of payments broken down by trimester.
$200,000 upon live birth.
Fifty thousand more if the child carried Alpha genetic markers.
I stopped breathing for a second.
That was more money than my entire pack had seen in three years. More than my father made in his lifetime before the fever took him. More than—
"Eight minutes," Kael said.
He wasn't looking at me. He was looking at the rain. His jaw was sharp enough to cut glass. His hair was dark, almost black, falling across his forehead in a way that looked accidental but probably wasn't. Everything about him was controlled. Calculated. Cold.
They called him the Ice Alpha for a reason.
At nineteen, he'd buried his entire family. Mother. Father. Two younger brothers. A pack rebellion gone wrong. He'd survived because he was in the city that night. Came home to bodies and blood and a title he never wanted.
He hadn't smiled since.
That's what the rumors said, anyway.
I didn't care about rumors. I cared about page three.
"Room and board included," I read aloud, mostly to steady my voice. "Medical care provided. Nutritional plan attached as Exhibit B."
"Yes."
"I can't leave the property without permission."
"No."
"If I break the contract before term completion, I owe back all compensation plus a penalty of—" I did the math in my head. My stomach dropped. "That's more than the original amount."
Kael turned his head. Gray eyes. Pale as winter sky. They landed on me like a physical weight.
"Then don't break the contract."
"I have a sister," I said. The words came out rougher than I meant. "She's eight. I can't just—"
"She'll stay in the guest house. Cook. Clean. She'll be fed and safe and educated." His voice didn't change. Flat. Empty. Like he was reading a grocery list. "You'll see her every evening from six to seven. No more. No less."
I opened my mouth to argue.
"Six minutes," he said.
I shut my mouth.
My eyes scanned the pages. Page seven. Page twelve. Page twenty-three. Nothing jumped out except the numbers. The rules. The cold, clinical language that turned my body into a transaction.
Surrogate agrees to reside in Alpha's residence for duration of term.
Surrogate agrees to submit to monthly medical examinations.
Surrogate agrees to refrain from romantic or physical contact with any individual not approved in writing by Alpha.
I stopped at that one.
"Approved in writing?"
Kael's jaw tightened. Just slightly. The only crack in his armor I'd seen so far.
"You're carrying my heir. You won't be... distracted."
Distracted.
Like I was a pet who might wander into traffic.
I should have been angry. I should have stood up and walked out and found another way. But Lila's face kept flashing behind my eyes. The way she'd smiled this morning when I gave her that protein bar. The way she'd said, "You're the best sister ever," like I'd given her a diamond instead of stale chocolate and oats.
I turned to page forty-seven.
And I stopped reading.
Because my ten minutes were up.
"Time," Kael said.
He slid a pen across the desk. Silver. Heavy. His initials engraved on the side.
I looked at the signature line. Elara Vance.
I looked at the rain.
I looked at the fire I couldn't feel.
And I signed.
The pen scratched against the paper. Too loud in the silence. My hand didn't shake anymore. That was the worst part. I'd gone numb somewhere between page three and the last initial.
Kael took the binder. Didn't read what I'd signed. Just closed it and set it in a drawer and locked it.
"Bedroom's upstairs," he said. "Second door on the left. Don't touch anything in my office."
He walked away.
Didn't ask my name. Didn't tell me his.
I already knew it anyway. Every wolf did.
Kael Blackwood. The Alpha who buried his entire pack at nineteen.
The one who hadn't smiled since.
And now, the father of my unborn child.
God help me.
---
I stood in the doorway of my new bedroom for a full minute before I walked inside.
It was beautiful. Stupidly beautiful. A four-poster bed with white sheets that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe. A window seat overlooking the rain-soaked gardens. A bathroom with a clawfoot tub and towels so soft I wanted to cry.
I didn't deserve this room.
I didn't deserve any of this.
But Lila deserved warm milk. And a bed that wasn't on the floor of our collapsing cabin. And a future that didn't involve watching her big sister starve so she could eat.
So I'd take the beautiful room.
I'd take the cold Alpha.
I'd take the contract and the rules and the way his gray eyes made me feel like prey.
And in nine months, I'd take the money and walk away.
Simple.
Clean.
Impossible.
---
That night, I dreamed of wolves.
Not the peaceful kind. The hunting kind. A pack of them, gray and silent, circling something in the snow. I couldn't see what they were hunting. Could only hear the heartbeat. Fast. Terrified.
Mine.
I woke up gasping.
The room was dark. The rain had stopped. And someone was standing in my doorway.
A silhouette. Broad shoulders. Still as stone.
Kael.
He didn't speak. Didn't move. Just stood there, watching me in the dark, his face unreadable.
My heart pounded against my ribs.
"The hallway light," he said finally. His voice was lower than before. Rougher. "There's a switch by the door. Leave it on if you need it."
Then he was gone.
Footsteps fading down the hallway.
And I was alone in a stranger's house, pregnant with a stranger's child, clutching the sheets like they could save me.
I didn't turn on the light.
But I didn't fall back asleep either.
And somewhere in the darkness, I could have sworn I heard him stop outside my door. Just for a second. Just long enough to listen.
Just long enough to care.
---