Chapter 2

Celeste Benton POV:

"Look who finally dragged herself out of the penthouse," Domenica drawled, blocking the narrow service corridor with a venomous smirk.

She was my adoptive sister—my adoptive parents's biological daughter. Unlike me, Domenica had shifted into an agile Beta wolf at sixteen. She had spent her entire youth kicking down at the wolfless stray her parents had pulled off a church step.

"Move, Domenica," I breathed, my chest burning from the sprint. "I'm not in the mood."

She stepped forward, digging a razor-sharp acrylic nail hard into my collarbone.

"Did you enjoy the VIP show upstairs, little sister? Did you finally see how a real Alpha handles a female who isn't defective?"

I froze, the blood draining from my face. "You tipped them off."

Domenica let out a high, mocking laugh that bounced off the cinderblock walls. "Tipped them off? I called the media desks myself thirty minutes ago, darling. I slipped the photographer Darrien's master keycard."

"Why?" I hissed, trembling with rage. "Page Enterprises was supposed to sign the commercial transit merger tonight! That contract clears Dad's union debt! Why destroy it?!"

"Save our business?" Her eyes flashed with sudden, feral malice. She closed the distance until her breath hit my lips, sour with red wine. "You honestly thought our father was going to hand those transit corridors to an Alpha for your sake? You're a wolfless parasite! You have no beast, no claws, and no right to sit at an Alpha's high table! Why should you get an heir while I get the scraps?!"

I shoved her forearm off my chest. "If you wanted that two-faced coward so badly, Domenica, you should have just asked. He's all yours."

"He's already mine, Celeste."

The words were sickeningly sweet.

I stopped dead in my tracks.

Domenica rested her manicured palm lovingly over the flat plane of her stomach. A victorious, predatory sneer stretched across her features.

"Three weeks," she whispered, leaning into my ear. "I'm carrying Darrien's pup."

The ground vanished beneath my bare feet. A deafening roar filled my ears, louder than an artillery shell.

"You're lying," I choked out, the words tasting like ash.

"Am I?" She reached into her crystal clutch, pulled out a folded glossy document, and flicked it across my face.

The sharp edge sliced across my cheekbone, drawing a thin bead of red. The paper fluttered down between my bare, dirty feet.

It was an official document from the Cascade Medical Center, stamped with a Beta physician's seal.

Positive gestational index. Bloodline: Darrien Page.

"He was sick of waking up next to an empty shell months ago," Domenica sneered, leaning over me. "He needed a female who could actually birth a wolf, Celeste. You couldn't even give him a pup with teeth. You were just a placeholder until the commercial permits cleared."

The man who had slipped a ring onto my finger, who had sworn my lack of a beast didn't matter—he had been bedding my adoptive sister in my own home while I worked sixteen-hour tactical shifts to pay off our family's loans.

Heavy, synchronized boots pounded against the floorboards before I could speak.

Four massive men in tailored ballistic suits rounded the corner, their lapels gleaming with the silver crest of the Page Pack.

The lead enforcer blocked my path, his gaze dead and clinical.

"Miss Benton," he commanded, his voice vibrating with pack authority. "Alpha Beaulah Wilkins requires your presence in the third-floor executive boardroom immediately."

They formed an impenetrable perimeter, their massive shoulders blocking every inch of the hall.

"Get out of my way," I said, wiping the smear of blood from my cheek. "I'm leaving."

"You leave when the Alpha dismisses you," the guard barked, taking a menacing step forward.

Domenica chuckled, leaning against the wall with folded arms. "Run along, Celeste. Don't keep Darrien's mother waiting. She has a few choice words about how you broke her crystal."

Four high-tier wolves against an unarmed, barefoot human in an evening gown. If I fought them here, they would zip-tie my wrists and break my collarbone before I cleared the exit.

"Fine," I said, my voice dropping to a flatline. "Lead the way."

They escorted me like a condemned prisoner into the private lift, rising straight to the executive suites.

Inside the boardroom, the tension was thick enough to suffocate a beast.

Sitting at the head of a massive obsidian conference table was Beaulah Wilkins. Tailored emerald silk, diamonds dripping from her ears, her spine rigid as a marble column. The matriarch of the Page bloodline.

When her eyes landed on my bare, bloodied feet, her lips peeled back in open disgust.

"Close the doors," Beaulah ordered.

The heavy oak slammed shut behind me.

Beaulah set down her fine china teacup. The sharp clatter broke the silence like a gunshot.

"You utterly useless little stray," she spat, each syllable laced with venom. "You had one single task tonight: stand at Darrien's side, smile for the cameras, and keep him out of the headlines until the merger cleared."

I stood tall in the center of the Persian rug. "Your son was buried between another woman's legs, Alpha Beaulah. If you want someone to blame for the cameras, look in the mirror."

"Do not raise your tone in my house!" Beaulah snarled, her irises flashing predatory amber. "A proper female keeps her mate satisfied! If Darrien sought comfort elsewhere, it is because you are defective! An empty vessel we took pity on!"

I let out a harsh, dry bark of laughter. "Pity? You wanted my adoptive father's freight lanes. That's the only reason I was ever allowed past your gates."

The double doors banged open with violent force.

Darrien stumbled into the room, his tie ripped off, sweat glistening on his flushed neck, reeking of raw sex and spilled liquor.

He locked eyes with me, and his face instantly twisted into pure, unbridled malice.