ICE- The Alpha's Unwanted OMEGA

The silver in Ethan’s eyes wasn't just magnetic; it was the predatory glint of an Alpha who had scented blood. It was a gaze that froze the marrow in your bones.

Mason’s face drained of all color, his cocky posture collapsing as he scrambled toward the door.

"Collins... I mean, Uncle Collins... it's late. I'll leave you and Uncle Ethan to your... rest!"

He didn't just walk out; he fled, the scent of his fear lingering in the air like burnt rubber. My chest tightened as I watched him bolt. My own wolf was whimpering, trembling at the sheer intensity radiating from the bed.

Was Ethan truly coming back from the brink? Was the King of the Silvercrest Rink not ready for the Great Hunt in the sky?

I wanted to demand answers, but my throat felt like it was filled with dry ice. I wanted to move closer, to see if he was really there, but my feet were fused to the floor. Panic finally broke my paralysis, and I stumbled out into the hallway, shouting for help.

"Patricia! Ethan’s eyes! He opened them!"

Patricia Bennett, the head of the household staff, came charging up the stairs, her expression more weary than surprised.

"Master Ethan opens his eyes every sun-cycle, Collins. It doesn't mean his soul has returned to his body. Look at him—he isn't tracking your movement or responding to our scents." She let out a long, heavy sigh. "Dr. Harris says the odds of a wolf waking once the mental bond is shattered are nearly zero."

The unease didn't leave me. "Can we keep the fireplace roaring tonight? I’m... the dark feels heavy."

"Of course," Patricia nodded. "Rest now. You have to visit the High Pack Manor tomorrow to see Margaret. I’ll wake you at dawn."

I changed into my silk sleepwear and climbed into the massive bed, feeling like a small bird nesting next to a dormant volcano. I sat stiffly, studying his rugged, motionless features. I waved a hand tentatively in front of his face.

"What are you hunting in your dreams, Ethan?" I whispered. No answer.

A sudden wave of grief crashed over me. My own betrayal by Mason and Denise felt small compared to this—a titan of the ice reduced to a statue.

"I hope you fight your way back, Ethan. If that parasite Mason gets his claws on the Silvercrest Holdings, you won't be able to howl in peace."

The moment the words left my lips, Ethan’s heavy lids slid shut.

My heart thundered against my ribs. I stared at him, paralyzed. Wolves are sensitive to intent; even in a coma, could he hear me? I lay down beside him, my mind spinning. I was officially a Carter now. For the moment, I was protected by his name.

But what happens when his heart finally stops?

My jaw tightened. I had to use this window of time. While I was the consort of the Silvercrest Alpha, I would reclaim everything Denise and Savannah stole from me. Everyone who treated me like a pawn was about to find out I could play the game, too.

At eight the next morning, Patricia escorted me to the High Pack Manor to see Margaret Carter. The entire Carter lineage was gathered in the grand hall. I moved through the room, pouring ritual tea for the elders, playing the part of the dutiful mate.

Margaret watched me with sharp, calculating eyes. She seemed pleased with my restraint; an obedient omega was easier to keep on a leash.

"How was your first night in the fortress, Collins?" she asked.

"Quiet, thank you," I replied, my voice steady despite the flush on my cheeks.

"And Ethan? He wasn't a burden?"

I thought of his handsome, frozen mask and felt a strange pang of loyalty. "He was still. He didn't disturb me."

I didn't mention that in the middle of the night, I’d subconsciously sought his warmth, waking up draped across his chest like he was a heated pillow. The realization of what I'd done had kept me awake for hours.

"I have a welcoming gift for you," Margaret said, sliding a heavy silver box across the table. Inside was a cuff forged from lunar steel. "It matches your spirit. Do you like it?"

I knew better than to refuse the Matriarch. "It’s beautiful. Thank you."

"I know the burden you carry, Collins. Ethan isn't himself. But there is a way for this union to serve the pack legacy." She leaned in, her voice dropping to a low growl. "Ethan’s time is short. He spent his life on the ice and in the boardroom, never taking a mate or siring an heir. He has no cub to carry the Silvercrest torch."

I went cold. An heir? She wanted me to carry a child for a man who couldn't even speak?

"I want you to provide Ethan with a successor," Margaret declared.

The room went silent. The shock on the faces of the extended family mirrored my own.

"Mother, Ethan has been under heavy sedation and healing spells for months," Mason’s father, Mason's uncle, interjected. "He’s likely sterile."

Everyone already had their sights set on Ethan’s territory. They didn't want a new Alpha in the cradle.

Margaret smirked. "I’ve consulted with Dr. Harris. We have... methods. Silvercrest needs a blood-heir. Even a daughter would suffice to hold the seat."

All eyes turned to me, heavy with judgment and greed.

"You're still in the academy, aren't you, Collins?" Mason’s aunt chirped. "A pregnancy would ruin your chances of finishing your hockey stats."

"Exactly," her husband added. "Collins is far too young to be tethered to a nursery."

Margaret ignored them, looking directly at me. "Are you willing, Collins? You should realize that you and the cub would inherit the entirety of the Silvercrest estate. It’s a fortune that would make you the most powerful wolf in Valeria."

"I’ll do it," I said, my voice cutting through the room.

I saw the flicker of rage in Mason’s eyes and felt a surge of triumph. I would do anything to ensure he never touched a single credit of Ethan’s legacy. Besides, if I refused, this family would simply find a way to force me.

Margaret beamed. "Excellent. I knew you had more iron in your blood than those other vapid socialites."

After the gathering, I walked out into the crisp morning air, only to be intercepted by Mason. The sun was bright, the mountain birds were calling, and I felt like vomiting at the sight of him.

"Take the carriage ahead, Patricia," I said. She nodded and gave Mason a warning look before retreating.

Mason waited until we were alone under the pines. "You’re killing me, Collins! You wouldn't even let me scent your neck while we were together, and now you’re jumping into bed to breed for a dying man?"

"An heir means the estate is mine," I sneered, enjoying the way his face twisted. "Why wouldn't I take the crown?"

"It’s a clever play," Mason hissed, stepping into my space. "But why use him? We can have our own cub and tell the Matriarch it’s Ethan’s. It would still be a Carter. My grandmother would never know the difference."

My disgust turned into a cold, sharp blade.

"You’ve got plenty of greed, Mason, but you're lacking the brains to back it up," I warned. "Ethan’s inner circle—Brandon Hayes and the rest—are monsters. They are loyal to Ethan alone. If they find out I’m carrying your brat, they won't just exile you. They’ll hunt you for sport."

Mason flinched as if I’d struck him. He knew I was right. Ethan’s "minions" were the most feared enforcers in the Kingdom.

"I’m just joking!" Mason stammered, trying to reclaim his ego. "Whoever the father is, the kid is a Carter. When Ethan kicks the bucket, I’ll treat the cub like my own."

I sighed, looking at him with pure pity. "Mason, your uncle’s child would be your cousin. Try to keep your family tree straight."

He looked like he’d just bitten into a lemon.

"I’m leaving," I said. "Your grandmother has already sent Dr. Harris to the estate to begin the process."

Back at the mansion, I was immediately taken to the medical wing. Two specialized healers were waiting. The process was clinical and cold—if I was in my cycle, they would harvest; if not, they would trigger it.

"Don't be anxious, Collins," a female doctor said as she prepped the equipment. "This is a small price to pay for the security of the Carter name."

I lay back on the cold table, my pulse racing. "How long until we know if it worked?"