Draven’s POV:

I watched the oak doors click shut behind Aria. The room felt vacant, despite the sweet scent of her wolf lingering in the air. My skin prickled where I touched her jaw. The mate bond clawed at my skull like a beast. I shoved it down, straightening my coat, and turned to Ragnar. My Beta leaned against a pillar, looking ready to punch my face in.

“Are you seriously doing this, Draven?” Ragnar barked. His voice echoed as he pushed off the wall and paced the floor. “Screwing with the Elders is a death trap. If they find out your 'Luna' is a cheap slave faking a pregnancy, they won’t just strip your title. They will execute us both for treason.”

I walked to the sideboard and poured a drink. “The Elders only care about an heir, Ragnar. As long as they see a knocked-up Luna and a healthy pup, they will stay in their chambers and let me run my pack.”

“But you told the girl you were using a breeder!” Ragnar threw his hands up. “You said she’s just a shield while another female carries the pup. How do you keep that quiet? A breeder, a nurse, the guards? That is too many loose ends. Someone will talk, or the Elders will send a doctor to check her pulse.”

I took a sip, enjoying the harsh burn in my throat. “There is no breeder, Ragnar,” I stated. His eyes bulged. “I only fed her that lie to get her signature. She’s a physician. She knows being an Alpha's surrogate is a life sentence. I gave her a fake out so she thinks she controls her fate.”

Ragnar stopped dead. His jaw hit the floor. “Wait. You plan to knock her up? The slave you just bought? The girl who literally swore she would never carry your pup?”

“Exactly,” I smirked, slamming my glass down. “I will make her fall for me. She is young and vulnerable. Her deadbeat dad starved her of affection. I will play the perfect Alpha. She will crawl into my bed willingly, and by the time she realizes the breeder is fake, my seed will already be growing in her belly. Afterward, I’ll pay her off, or just keep her as a broodmare. Even if I don't love her, she will pop out my heir and never see a slave camp again.”

“That is the sickest trick you’ve ever pulled,” Ragnar muttered, rubbing his face. “You think a girl with that much fire will just open her legs because you play nice for a few months? What if she hates you? What if she finds out you lied before you knock her up?”

“She won't find out,” I waved him off, heading to my study. “What are the odds she resists when I give her everything she dreams of? Relax, Ragnar. I’ve played the Council before. I can definitely tame one stubborn she-wolf.”

I stepped into my office. The room smelled of dried ink. Sitting at my desk, I pulled a fresh parchment from the drawer and dipped my quill. The scratching nib broke the dead silence as I drafted our fake marriage. I wrote her name, Aria, in bold letters beside mine, leaving space for our bloody thumbprints. It felt like a dirty transaction. That was exactly what I needed, because the less I thought about the fiery defiance in her eyes, the better.

The next weeks were a blur of political theater. I presented the contract to Aria. She signed it with a trembling hand, pressing her thumb to the paper and sealing her fate. Then came the Elders. I stood in the hall, my hand gripping her lower back. I felt her stiffen as I announced the Goddess had blessed me with a second-chance mate. The geezers looked skeptical, eyeing her cheap dress, but I had already paid off the other slaves. There were no loose ends.

The wedding was a hollow joke. The pack traditions felt like a sick mockery of my vows to Helen, but I played the devoted Alpha flawlessly. As weeks passed, the packhouse dynamic shifted. While I handled border wars, Aria spent every waking hour with Ella, my daughter. I usually avoided the pup—looking at her felt like staring at Helen’s ghost. But one afternoon, Aria barged into my study. Her face burned with pure rage.

“Your daughter is miserable, Draven,” she snapped, slamming her hands on my desk. “The maids treat her like garbage. They whisper she is cursed just because she stays quiet. The poor pup thinks you hate her, so she just takes their abuse.”

Cold fury spiked in my chest. Servants disrespecting my blood? I shot out of my chair and followed Aria to the nursery. The lead maid was yanking Ella’s hair, bitching that the kid was a lifeless doll. I didn't ask questions. I fired the entire floor, my Alpha roar rattling the windows as I ordered them out of my territory before sunset.

“I’ll hire better nannies from the city,” I grunted, eyeing Ella. The pup hid behind Aria’s legs.

“Don’t bother,” Aria snapped, her tone softening as she stroked Ella’s hair. “I will raise her. I don't trust your staff, and I know how to nurse a traumatized pup. My maid can help when I have Luna duties, but Ella stays with me.”

I stared at them. The slave I planned to use, and the daughter I couldn't stomach. For a split second, an alien warmth tugged at my chest. I killed the feeling instantly. A dark realization hit me: this played right into my hands. The more she bonded with my pup, the more she’d feel like family. It would be dangerously easy to lure her into my trap.

“Fine,” I said, turning away to hide the wicked smirk on my face. “She’s your problem now, Luna.”