WICKED PROVIDENCE

"You want to break the blood-bond?"

Hudson’s laughter was a serrated blade. He didn't even look at the parchment Avery had laid on the obsidian desk. He swiped it aside, the paper fluttering into the embers of the hearth. "You’re going to walk away from a Montgomery because of a few insults in the mud? Grow up, Avery."

Avery retrieved the document, her fingers trembling but her eyes hard. She slammed it back down, her palm flat against the mahogany.

"You’re serious." Hudson’s face darkened, the air in the room thickening with the heavy, suffocating pressure of an Alpha’s intent. "Fine. Leave. But you leave with nothing. Every scrap of silver, every garment, every ounce of meat you’ve eaten in this territory—pay it back. Then you can go be a rogue for all I care."

He expected her to crumble. Instead, Avery reached into her tunic and pulled out a single, leather-bound pouch. She emptied it. The heavy gold coins and the black credit-talisman he’d given her clattered onto the desk. She signed with sharp, violent motions. I haven’t touched a single piece of your gold. It’s all there.

Hudson’s jaw creaked. The muscles in his neck corded like iron cables. "Twenty million," he hissed, leaning over the desk until his nose was inches from hers. "The penalty for breaking a High-Blood Mate-Contract is twenty million credits in territorial tax. You don't have it. You’ll never have it. You’re trapped until I decide you’re done."

Avery’s breath hitched. Twenty million. It was a death sentence. She could spend a thousand years in the archives and never see that much wealth.

Hudson let out a low, mocking snort. "Go back to your room. Don't bring this trash to me again."

He turned to leave, but Avery lunged, blocking the heavy oak door. Her hands blurred in a desperate, frantic rhythm. Take the money from Sarah. She wants you. Marry her. She has the rank. Let me go.

Hudson slammed his fist into the door frame, right next to her head. The wood splintered. "You think I’m trading you for that? Twenty million, Avery. Not a credit less. Until then, you stay in my house and you stay in my bed."

He ripped the contract into a dozen pieces, the scraps falling like snow. The door groaned as he stormed out, leaving Avery shaking in the dark.

At one in the morning, the silence of the estate was shattered by the shrill scream of her phone.

"Is this the Ghost?"

Avery fumbled for the device. The voice on the other end was panicked, drowning in the thumping bass of a tavern.

"Hudson’s losing it at 'The Howl.' He’s half-shifted and tearing the place apart. If you don't get here, the Enforcers are going to put him down."

The line went dead. Avery’s heart hammered against her ribs. She didn't think. She threw on a cloak and sprinted for the gates, hailing a passing rogue-shuttle.

The Howl was a pit of sin on the edge of the Scarlett Vale. When Avery pushed through the swinging doors, the smell of spilled ale and wet fur hit her like a physical blow.

The room was a wreck. Tables were splintered into toothpoints. In the center, Hudson lounged on a shredded leather sofa, a half-empty bottle of moonshine in his hand. He looked lucid, but dangerous—his eyes glowing a steady, lethal amber.

Madison sat beside him, weeping into her silk sleeves.

Across from them, a standoff. Harper Bennett was backed into a corner, clutching a broken bottle like a dagger. Her brother, Grant Lawson, stood in front of her, his hands raised in a useless plea.

"Avery, thank the Moon," Harper gasped, her face bruised. "Tell this Alpha bastard to back off. I only told his mistress what she is."

"What she is," Hudson rumbled, his voice a low-frequency vibration that made the glass on the tables shatter, "is someone under my protection. And your friend here decided to test the sharpness of her claws."

Avery rushed forward, grabbing Harper’s arm, her eyes wide with fear.

"Oh, look," Madison sobbed, her voice dripping with fake agony. "The mute is here to save her little pet. Hudson, my face is ruined. She hit me so hard..."

"She deserved it!" Harper yelled, trying to lung past Avery.

"Grant," Hudson said, ignoring the women. "Your sister is a menace. If you want her to keep her tongue, she apologizes. Now."

"Hudson, man, she’s just drunk," Grant pleaded, eyeing the lethal set of Hudson’s shoulders.

Avery stepped between them. She looked at Madison, then at the fury in Hudson’s eyes. She knew how this ended. If blood spilled here, Harper would be exiled.

Avery knelt.

The tavern went silent. The only sound was the crackle of the hearth. Avery bowed her head until it nearly touched the grimy floorboards. She lifted her hands, signing a slow, agonizingly humble apology to Madison.

"I don't understand that hand-trash," Madison spat, her eyes gleaming with triumph. "If you want to say sorry, use the voice the Goddess gave you. Or better yet... show us how a Ghost begs."

"Sarah, that’s enough," Grant whispered, but a growl from Hudson silenced him.

Avery didn't hesitate. She raised her hand and slapped herself. The crack of palm against skin echoed in the vault-like room. She did it again. Harder. Her cheek turned a violent, stinging red.

Are you satisfied? she signed, her eyes vacant.

"Not even close," Madison laughed. "Get on your knees. Properly. Like a dog."

Avery sank lower. Her knees hit the floor, right on top of a pile of shattered glass. Sharp shards sliced through her leggings, biting into the flesh. She didn't flinch. She stayed there, a silent sacrifice to Hudson’s pride.

Hudson watched her. His expression didn't change, but the bottle in his hand began to crack under the pressure of his grip.

"That’s more like it," Madison sneered. "Now, bark for me, Ghost. Let’s hear that pretty—"

"Enough!"

Hudson was on his feet in a blur of motion. He didn't look at Madison. He didn't look at the crowd. He reached down and caught Avery by the waist, hauling her upward.

"Landon! You’re just going to let her—"

Hudson didn't answer. He kicked a heavy table out of his path and carried Avery toward the door.

"See that?" Harper shouted as the door swung open. "He still knows who his Luna is! Suck on that, Madison!"

Back at the villa, the air was thick with the scent of ozone. Hudson set Avery down in the foyer. She immediately pulled away, her hands moving in a dismissive wave. She didn't need his pity. She gestured toward his coat, asking if he needed the healer for the alcohol in his system.

Hudson just stared at her. His eyes moved down to her knees. The fabric was soaked in dark, heavy blood.

"You’re a fool," he muttered, the anger in his voice replaced by something jagged and raw.

Avery signed back, her movements slow and weary. Let Harper go. That’s all I want.

"She’s fine. I’m not hunting her," Hudson said, his gaze following her as she turned to limp toward the stairs.

Avery stopped. She turned back and signed one last thing. Why did you bring me back? You hate the silence. Why not just let me stay in the mud?

Hudson’s jaw tightened. He didn't answer. He watched her climb the stairs, his hands curled into fists at his sides.

Upstairs, Avery stripped off her ruined clothes. The glass had done its work. Her knees were a mess of raw skin and crystalline slivers. She sat on the edge of the tub, the cold water stinging the wounds, but the physical pain was a distraction from the ache in her chest.

The door creaked.

Hudson stood in the doorway. He’d shed his shirt, his broad chest covered in the scars of a dozen pack wars. He walked toward her, the weight of his body making the floorboards groan.

He didn't ask. He picked her up and sat her on the vanity, forcing her legs apart so he could see the damage.

"I told you to stay home," he whispered, his breath warm against her thigh.

He reached for a silk cloth, soaking it in warm water. He began to dab at the blood, his movements surprisingly tender. Avery’s breath hitched. She tried to push him away, but he gripped her hip, pinning her in place.

"Don't," he growled.

He leaned in, his lips brushing the sensitive skin of her inner knee. Avery’s head fell back, a silent gasp escaping her. The shift in the air was instantaneous. The medicinal scent of the room was drowned out by the musk of a dominant male.

Hudson looked up at her, his eyes dark with a hunger that had nothing to do with the moon.

"You want to leave me, Avery?"

He stood up, pressing himself between her knees. His hands slid up her waist, his thumbs hooking into the waistband of her thin undergarments. He leaned in, his mouth crushing hers in a kiss that tasted of iron and salt.

Avery’s fingers tangled in his hair, her body betrayed by the primal heat he radiated. He lifted her, her legs wrapping around his waist as he carried her toward the bed.

He threw her down, the weight of his body following immediately. It wasn't gentle. It was a reclamation. He pinned her wrists above her head, his chest heaving against hers.

"Try to leave," he hissed against her ear, his teeth grazing the lobe. "Try to find twenty million credits. But until you do, you’re mine. Every inch."

He moved lower, his tongue tracing the line of her throat where the scars were thickest. Avery’s back arched, her toes curling into the silk sheets. She couldn't speak, but her body was screaming.

He entered her with a single, devastating thrust that made the world go white. Avery’s eyes flew open, her hands clawing at his shoulders as he began a punishing, relentless rhythm. He was marking her from the inside out, his scent embedding itself in her skin, her hair, her soul.

When he finally collapsed against her, his heart thudding like a war drum, Avery lay in the wreckage of the bed, her skin stinging, her limbs leaden.

Hudson rolled off her, the warmth of his body replaced by the cold draft of the room. He didn't hold her. He stood up, adjusted his trousers, and walked toward the door.

"I’m leaving for the Northern Border at dawn," he said, not looking back. "Don't be here when I get back if you’ve found the money. But we both know you won't."

The door clicked shut.

Avery curled into a ball, the lingering warmth of him feeling like a brand. She reached under the pillow and felt the crumpled remains of the document she’d hidden there earlier.

A note from Dr. Ryan Mercer.

Avery, the blood work is back. It wasn't a fever that took your wolf. It was a poison. And the person who gave it to you is still in the house.