Chapter 5
Christine's POV
I looked at the man before me. My shoulders tensed involuntarily, my back pressing flat against the sofa cushions—as if my body had reached its verdict before my brain could catch up: this man is dangerous.
I recognized him. Not because I'd ever seen him up close. This face appeared on the front page of every internal Pack bulletin, projected larger than life at every territory assembly, and glowing on the lock screens of every young she-wolf in Shadow Pack.
And then—the suite on the night of the Pack gala. Those broad shoulders. The heavy weight of his body pressing down on mine. Ragged breathing so close to my ear, carrying a deep, glacial scent that belonged unmistakably to an Alpha.
That face—always blank in my memory—finally had a shape. My stomach clenched.
Cedric Lancaster. The Lycan King. Supreme ruler of the Silver Moon Kingdom. Seventeenth-generation Alpha King of the Lancaster bloodline. Dominic's uncle.
The father of the child in my womb.
He had just asked me: "Do you know why I invited you here?"
I raised my head, my throat so dry it felt packed with sand. "I figured it out the moment I saw you."
His expression didn't change. Those amber eyes swept across my face.
The pale winter light from the waiting room's floor-to-ceiling windows poured in behind him, tracing a thin silver edge along the shoulder line of his dark suit. CEO of Lancaster Industries—a commercial empire spanning real estate, finance, and luxury goods.
But beneath the polished veneer of the human world, he was the Lycan King of the most powerful werewolf kingdom in North America—an Alpha with absolute authority, ruling over twelve subordinate Packs and tens of thousands of lycanthropes.
And what was I? A wolfless Omega. No family, no income, wearing a borrowed coat, nearly frozen to death in last night's blizzard. One phone call from him, and I could vanish from this world like a speck of dust. Between the very top and the very bottom of the Pack Hierarchy, the gap wasn't merely one of rank—it was a chasm between different orders of existence.
But beneath the fear, another thought surfaced—clear and cold.
I held a card Dominic would never expect. The father of this child wasn't some "rotting-toothed old wolf with a barrel for a belly"—it was Cedric Lancaster. The Lycan King.
If I played this card right, Oliver and I would never have to grovel before anyone again.
The thought made me sick. Because that was exactly how Dominic had used me—exploiting my mother's reputation in the Pack, leveraging the Hayes family's voting rights, weaponizing my unconditional trust in him.
Was I about to become the same kind of person? Trading the child in my belly for leverage?
No. I wasn't Dominic.
"You and Dominic are fated mates." He spoke.
That spot on my neck began to ache again—the place where, for two years, every emotional upheaval involving Dominic had produced a searing burn.
"Yes," I said.
I watched his face. His expression had already betrayed him—in his mind, I was probably no different from those women who schemed their way into the Lycan King's bed in exchange for power.
A wolfless Omega, pregnant out of wedlock, delivered to the Alpha King's doorstep—no matter how you looked at it, the story reeked of something cheap.
I drew in a breath. The air in my chest was cold and dry, stinging my lungs with its sharpness.
"What happened that night—" My voice hitched for a fraction of a second. "I don't remember how it happened."
He seemed equally reluctant to revisit the memory. His gaze drifted from my face, traveling slowly downward until it settled on my lower abdomen.
He stared for a long time. Long enough for me to feel my stomach contracting inch by inch.
What was he looking for? A Lycan King's perception far exceeded that of an ordinary wolf—could he scent the fetus? Could he sense that faint life signature carrying his Alpha bloodline?
"Terminate the pregnancy. I'll arrange the best medical team." He finally spoke. "Afterward, I'll have you and Dominic complete the marking ceremony. Your scandal will be buried—no one will dare speak of it. You can return to your old life."
My stomach lurched. Not because he'd said terminate—but because he'd said Dominic's name.
I thought of yesterday, in Dominic's office, the composed ease on his face when he said "Be my mistress."
I thought of Vanessa on the couch, sweeping her hair aside to reveal her collarbone—a row of red hickeys trailing from the side of her neck to behind her ear, like an Alpha's temporary territorial claim stamped onto another woman's skin.
And now Dominic's own uncle actually believed I could go back to my old life?
"No." I said. My eyes burned terribly, my vision beginning to blur. I narrowed my eyes, trying to force the tears back. "I don't love Dominic anymore."
My voice was trembling, but I didn't care.
I had no mate. No home. Only the child inside me. A child its father refused to acknowledge.
"I can guarantee this child will have nothing to do with you," I said, looking him straight in the eye. "I won't terminate my baby."
The room went silent. Three seconds.
I could hear my own heartbeat—too fast. And I could hear something else: near the door, the tall man—Beta Marcus, the one who'd retrieved me from the blizzard last night—drew a small, sharp breath.
But Cedric's expression didn't change. Not even his breathing shifted.
He simply watched me, those amber eyes holding no anger, no sympathy, not even surprise.
"Miss Hayes." His voice dropped half a register, the magnetic Alpha resonance in it thickening. "I appreciate your courage. But you don't seem to understand your current position."
My fingers clenched tighter inside the coat sleeves. I understood my position perfectly. My position couldn't possibly get any worse.
"Terminate the pregnancy." He said it again. A beat of silence. "Name your terms."
I looked at him. He sat in that chair with the entire Midtown Manhattan skyline spread behind him—gray-white clouds, the glare off glass curtain walls, the distant silhouette of Central Park's tree canopy.
He looked like he belonged to that world, while I was a wolfless Omega fished out of a blizzard, half-frozen and barely alive.
"Are you sure about that?" I asked.
He held my gaze. Said nothing. Something flickered in those amber eyes.
I heard my own voice—steadier than I expected: "Then I want to become your mate."
