Chapter 6

The room beyond was not what Mira expected.

The walls were paneled in dark wood, interrupted by floor-to-ceiling bookshelves crammed with leather-bound volumes and scrolls in languages she didn't recognize. A massive fireplace dominated one wall, the flames casting dancing shadows across a Persian rug worn soft with age. Scattered across the room were artifacts from a dozen different eras—an ancient sword mounted above the mantel, a sleek modern desk cluttered with documents and a holographic display, a gramophone in the corner playing something classical and mournful.

Restless luxury. The kind of space belonging to someone who had lived too long to care about matching furniture, and instead surrounded himself with things that interested him.

Evren lowered himself onto a leather sofa near the fire, crossing one leg over the other with the easy grace of a man who had never needed to prove his power. He gestured to the chair across from him.

"Sit."

Mira sat.

Her spine remained straight. Her hands folded in her lap. She kept her gaze lowered—respectful, but not submissive.

Then she raised her eyes to his.

"Your Majesty," she said carefully, "I want to break a blood vow. I want to be free."

Evren studied her.

The silence stretched. One second. Five. Ten. Long enough for doubt to creep back into her chest. Long enough to wonder if she had made a terrible mistake.

Then he leaned back, swirling the liquid in his glass.

"And why should I help you?"

Mira's heart clenched. She had prepared for this. Expected this. No king granted favors without payment.

"Because I am a Sterling," she said.

Evren's eyebrow arched. "Your father's company is nearly under Adrian Vale's complete control. Your bloodline, while respectable, is not unique. And your personal assets—" He took a slow sip. "—are currently tied up in a marriage contract that benefits your husband, not you."

Each word landed like a blade.

Mira's hands tightened in her lap. Her nails bit into her palms.

But she did not flinch.

"With respect, Your Majesty, you are missing the full picture."

Evren's eyes glinted. "Am I?"

"Adrian Vale holds the title of CEO," Mira said, her voice steady despite the fire burning in her chest. "But I am the one who has kept Sterling Industries—Vale Industries—running for the past three years. The patents filed since our marriage? Mine. The research breakthroughs? Mine. The relationships with key investors? I built those, not him."

She leaned forward slightly, letting her conviction bleed into her words.

"Adrian may control the board for now. But I control the work. If I walk away and take my expertise with me, the company doesn't lose a figurehead. It loses its engine."

Evren set down his glass.

For a long moment, he simply looked at her—assessing, weighing, dissecting. Mira held his gaze and prayed he couldn't hear the frantic pounding of her heart.

Then he spoke.

"Clever," he said. "But clever words are not leverage."

Mira's stomach dropped.

"You speak of patents and research and investor relationships. All of that may be true. But those are future promises, Mira Sterling. Potential." He leaned forward, and the weight of his presence pressed down on her like a physical force. "I deal in certainty. I need to know what you can give me now—not what you might achieve tomorrow."

The fire crackled between them.

Mira's mind raced.

"I—" she started.

Evren's eyes narrowed. "Careful. Your next words will determine whether this conversation continues."

The room felt smaller. Hotter. The shadows from the fire seemed to stretch toward her like grasping fingers. Mira could feel the blood vow pulsing in her chest—a constant reminder of the cage she was trying to escape.

Think. Think. What does a king want that no one else can give?

She drew a breath and met his gaze.

"My complete loyalty," she said. "Yours, and no other's. Once I am free, I will serve your interests above any pack, any Alpha, any husband."

Evren stared at her for a beat.

Then he threw his head back and laughed.

"My dear girl," he said, still smiling, "I am already king of every wolf in this world. What use do I have for your loyalty?"

Mira's cheeks burned.

He leaned forward.

The firelight caught the sharp angles of his face—the high cheekbones, the strong line of his jaw, the silver-white hair that fell across his brow like moonlight on snow. His eyes, gold and silver intertwined, held hers with an intensity that made her wolf shiver.

He reached out.

His fingers curled beneath her chin, tilting her face up. His touch was warm—impossibly warm—and Mira felt something strange flare in her chest. Not fear. Not panic.

Excitement.

Her wolf rolled over in her chest, whining softly, pressing against her ribs like it wanted out. Like it wanted closer.

Mira's breath caught.

She had never felt this. Not once. Not with Adrian, her mate, the man bound to her by blood and vow and three years of marriage. His touch had always been careful, measured, tolerated. But this—

This was hunger.

Evren's thumb brushed her jaw, slow and deliberate. His voice dropped to something low and dark, the kind of voice that had probably ruined empires.

"You could offer me yourself," he murmured. "Here. Now. On your knees, in my bed, anywhere I wanted."

Mira's heart slammed against her ribs.

Her body wanted to say yes. Every instinct she possessed was screaming at her to lean into that touch, to close the distance, to surrender to something she didn't fully understand.

But her mind—

Her mind was still hers.

She looked past the fire in his eyes and saw the truth beneath. There was no hunger there. No desire. Only curiosity. Only calculation.

This was a test.

And if she threw herself at him like a desperate thing begging for rescue, she would fail it.

She pulled her chin gently from his grasp—not flinching, not running, but refusing.

"With respect, Your Majesty," she said, her voice quiet but steady, "you could have any woman in the world. My body is not a bargaining chip worth your time."

Evren's smile didn't fade. If anything, it deepened.

'Good girl,' his eyes seemed to say. 'You passed.'

"Then what are you offering?" he asked, settling back into his seat. "Because pretty words and future promises will not open my doors a second time."

Mira straightened her spine.

"Give me one month," she said. "One month to finalize my divorce. One month to reclaim my parents' assets from Adrian Vale's control. One month to prove that I am not a victim asking for rescue—but an ally worth having."

She held his gaze.

"At the end of that month, I will return to you with my freedom, my inheritance, and my reputation restored. And then we will discuss what a Sterling can offer a king—as an equal, not a supplicant."

The fire crackled between them.

Evren was silent for a long, stretched moment. His gold-silver eyes searched her face, looking for weakness, looking for lies.

Mira did not blink.

Then he smiled.

It was not the sharp, testing smile from before. It was something warmer. Something almost like approval.

"William Sterling raised you well," he said quietly. Then he leaned back, spreading his arms along the back of the sofa, and the weight of his dominance eased—just slightly. "Very well, Mira Sterling. You have one month."

Mira's heart soared—but she kept her face still.

"If you succeed, I will sever your blood vow myself. You will be free."

"And if I fail?"

Evren's smile turned cold.

"Then you will never set foot in my kingdom again. No audience. No appeal. No second chances." He picked up his glass and took a slow sip, his eyes never leaving hers. "Don't disappoint me, Mira. I so rarely find myself interested these days."

He waved his hand.

The doors behind her swung open.

Mira rose on legs that barely felt like her own. She inclined her head—low enough for respect, high enough for dignity—and walked toward the exit.

At the threshold, she paused.

"Your Majesty," she said without turning around. "I am a Sterling. We don't fail."

She stepped through the doors.

They closed behind her with a soft, final thud.

And somewhere behind her, in the firelight, King Evren smiled into his glass.

'No,' he thought. 'I don't believe you will.'