His Captive Bride is His Cure

Scarlett POV The storm had passed, leaving behind a silence so heavy it felt like a physical weight pressing against my chest. When the heavy oak door to my room finally clicked open, I didn't flinch. I was sitting on the edge of the velvet chaise, my back straight, clutching two sheets of Blackwood stationery as if they were a shield and a sword. "The Alpha requests your presence for dinner," a guard grunted from the doorway. He wouldn't meet my eyes. Perhaps word of what I did in Genevieve's room had already spread. I stood up, smoothing the wrinkles from the ruined wedding dress I was still forced to wear. "Lead the way." The walk through Blackwood Manor was a tour of intimidation. Stone walls hung with ancient tapestries, floors of cold marble that echoed with every step, and shadows that seemed to stretch and claw at my ankles. We finally arrived at a set of double doors that looked heavy enough to withstand a siege. The guard pushed them open and stepped aside. The Alpha's private dining room was cavernous. A fire crackled in a hearth large enough to roast a whole stag, casting long, dancing shadows against the dark wood paneling. At the center of the room stood a polished mahogany table set for twenty, but only two places were laid. Kaelen stood by the fireplace, his back to me. He had changed into a fresh black shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms corded with muscle. Even from across the room, his scent—rain, ozone, and raw power—hit me like a physical blow. My inner wolf stirred, lifting her head with traitorous interest, but I shoved her down. Focus, Scarlett. Do this for Burke. "Sit," Kaelen commanded, his voice low and rough, like gravel grinding together. He didn't turn around. I walked to the table but didn't sit. I placed my two handwritten papers on the polished wood, right next to his untouched wine glass. "I'm not hungry," I said, my voice steady despite the way my heart hammered against my ribs. "I'm here to negotiate." Kaelen turned slowly. The firelight caught the sharp angles of his face, illuminating eyes that were no longer the pitch-black of a feral beast, but a swirling, stormy gray. He looked at me—really looked at me—with an intensity that made my skin prickle. It wasn't hatred anymore. It was something heavier, something calculating. He walked toward the table, his movements predatory and fluid. "Negotiate?" He arched a dark eyebrow. "You are in no position to make demands, wife." "I am in the exact position to make demands," I countered, sliding the first paper toward him. "You kidnapped me. You assaulted me. And then, I saved your grandmother's life when your own doctors had given up. That service has a price." Kaelen looked down at the paper. I had written it in my neatest script, itemizing every grievance. 1. Physical Assault (Choking, bruising): $5,000. 2. Unlawful Imprisonment & Emotional Trauma: $100,000. 3. Specialized Healer Services (Life-saving intervention for Luna Genevieve Blackwell): $10,000,000. He read the list in silence. The only sound in the room was the popping of the firewood. I held my breath, waiting for him to explode, to tear the paper to shreds and throw me in the dungeon. Ten million dollars was an exorbitant sum, even for a Pack as wealthy as Blackwood. It was enough to disappear. Enough to start a new life with Burke anywhere in the world. Kaelen's finger traced the final figure. Then, he looked up. His expression was unreadable. "You value your skills highly," he murmured. "I value my life," I replied sharply. "And hers. Without me, you would be planning a funeral right now. Is the life of a Luna not worth ten million?" The air grew thick with tension. Kaelen stared at me for a heartbeat longer, then reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a checkbook and a fountain pen. "Fair enough," he said simply. My jaw nearly dropped. He didn't argue. He didn't bargain. He simply uncapped the pen and wrote. The scratch of the nib against the paper was deafening in the quiet room. He tore the check out and slid it across the mahogany surface. I looked at it. Pay to the order of Scarlett Monroe. The amount: $10,105,000. He knew my name. A chill went down my spine, but I ignored it. I snatched the check, folding it quickly and tucking it into my bodice. I had the money. Now I needed the freedom. "There is one more thing," I said, my confidence bolstered by the victory. I pushed the second paper toward him. "The money is for the past. This is for the future." Kaelen looked down at the document. It was titled Annulment Agreement. "I want this marriage dissolved immediately," I stated, trying to keep the desperation out of my voice. "On the grounds of coercion and fraud. And, in accordance with human law, since we are legally married, I am entitled to a dissolution of assets." I pointed to the clause I had underlined three times. Division of Community Property. "I want what is mine, Kaelen. I want the marriage over, and I want my share of the community property acquired during this... union." I expected anger. I expected him to roar and flip the table. Instead, Kaelen went perfectly still. He stared at the words Community Property, and slowly, a smile spread across his face. It wasn't a kind smile. It was cold, sharp, and terrifyingly amused. It was the smile of a wolf who had just watched a rabbit run straight into a snare. "Community property," he repeated, the words rolling off his tongue like a dark promise. He looked up at me, his gray eyes gleaming with a dangerous light. "Are you sure that is a door you want to open, Scarlett?" "I just want to leave," I whispered, suddenly feeling very small. "Oh, no," Kaelen said softly, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. He didn't reach for the pen this time. "You wanted a negotiation. Let's negotiate."