Xavier Knight's POV

I stood in my office, staring at Sophia Moore, a storm of conflict and disbelief raging in my chest.

I am the Alpha of the Silver Moon Pack. I inherited the position from my father, and with it, the expectations of my entire lineage. My parents pinned their hopes on me—to lead our people to greater power and prosperity. I oversee the pack, multiple companies, and carry a weight few my age can imagine. Most Alphas by now are mated, with children and heirs. But not me.

Since coming of age, I've waited—hoped—for my mate. Years passed, and no one came.

Not the women of Silver Moon, nor the high-born she-wolves from other noble bloodlines. I had begun to believe the Moon Goddess had denied me one altogether.

Then today happened.

Then she walked into my office.

And my wolf, Ethan, howled to life.

In an instant, everything made sense. All those empty years—it wasn't that she didn't exist. It was that she'd been locked away this whole time.

In prison.

Ethan surged forward in a frenzy, clawing at my insides, feral and insistent, desperate to mark her, to claim her, to saturate the room with his scent like a mad beast staking territory.

Mate. She's our mate! His roar echoed through my skull, shattering my composure.

"This can't be..." I muttered under my breath. "It's impossible."

She stood before me in a neat business suit, composed and reserved. But the scars along her collarbone—whip marks, raw and jarring—were plain to see.

This wasn't the mate I'd imagined.

I had envisioned grace, dignity—something regal. Not this woman. Not a convict.

And yet, the scent of jasmine curled into my lungs, flooding every cell. It wasn't perfume. It was her—her true scent, unmistakable and maddening. My knuckles cracked as I gripped the edge of my desk, bones straining under the force. Ethan was pushing—hard—trying to seize control.

I dug my nails into the wood grain until they carved deep furrows, anchoring myself with pain.

Her past was drenched in shadow.

At twelve, she'd been convicted of attempted murder—her father, her stepmother, and even her half-siblings had been targets.

How could this woman be chosen for me?

I tried to repel her, to shame her into backing down. I threw her crimes in her face, in front of my assistant, hoping humiliation would be enough.

But she didn't flinch.

She only stood taller. Hungrier.

"I'll do whatever it takes to join this pack," she said, voice low, rough, and trembling as her fingers brushed the edge of my desk.

Her tone sent a sharp thrill down my spine.

And I found myself wondering—just how far would she go?

She slid off her blazer slowly, revealing the tight, provocative camisole beneath. My pupils shrank to pinpoints.

Ethan let out a savage snarl, so fierce it blurred my vision. He battered against the walls of my control, claws raking, teeth bared, one primal demand rising above all else:

Take her.

I trembled. My hand moved toward her of its own volition. Her scent—warm, spiced jasmine—wrapped around me like a noose.

When she stepped behind me, her breath brushed the shell of my ear, hot and deliberate.

I clenched the armrests with white-knuckled force, the leather groaning under the strain. I was trying to ground myself—through pain, through resistance. Anything.

Stay calm, I ordered Ethan.

He ignored me.

When her lips touched the skin just beneath my ear, a sound escaped me—a low growl, half protest, half surrender.

That was all Ethan needed.

He broke free.

My arms moved before I could stop them, yanking her into my lap with animalistic urgency.

She gasped—soft and startled—and the sound was like a match striking kindling. Logic screamed at me to push her away. She's a criminal. She's dangerous.

But instead, my hand slid down to her waist. My fingers sank into her flesh, not to reject her—but to touch her. Explore her.

She tried to maintain a sultry smile, but I saw right through it. Her face was pale. Her lashes trembled. She was terrified.

And yet still defiant.

That look—

I'd seen it once before. In the eyes of an orphaned pup, abandoned by his pack, doing everything he could not to beg.

Ethan snarled inside me: Mark her!

But my rational mind was still calculating.

If I did, if I claimed her, if I gave in—the entire pack would revolt. I would destroy everything I'd built.

Still, the bitterness burned. She was so willing to offer herself—for a job.

Would she have done this for another man?

Would she?

The question soured everything. My expression darkened. Ethan's fury roared inside me.

I gripped her face, hard, forcing her to look at me. "What if I still say no?" I growled. "Are you going to crawl into someone else's lap? Flash your body for another job? Or have you just gotten used to spreading your legs for survival?"

"Answer me."

I bit her ear hard enough to draw blood, the metallic taste flooding my mouth.

Her eyes widened, glossy with unshed tears, helpless and wounded.

My hand drifted down to the inside of her thigh. Her skin was fever-hot, like a brand pressed to my palm. My whole body shuddered.

When I bent her over the desk, I could feel her heartbeat against my chest—wild, unsteady. It matched my own.

Ethan's roars were deafening now, but something stopped me.

Her eyes.

They were wide with fear, but unwavering—like glass on the edge of breaking.

And suddenly, everything froze.

The rage. The heat. The hunger.

All of it suspended in that single moment.

She wasn't some temptress.

She was a wounded animal—cornered, desperate, wearing bravery like armor.

And I—

I didn't know anymore if I was punishing her...

...or myself.

When I finally pulled away, my nails had sunk into my palm, blood welling between my fingers. The metallic tang rose in my throat.

"You can leave," I rasped.

She stumbled back, then fled—like a startled fawn bolting for the woods.

Ethan whined in my mind, frustrated and aching.

And I collapsed into my chair, hollow and breathless, the thunder of my heart the only sound left in the room.