I Wore a Collar to Save My Ungrateful Mate

The pen felt heavier than a broadsword in my trembling hand.

"Sign here, Ms. Castillo," the lawyer said, his voice devoid of emotion. He tapped the parchment with a manicured fingernail. "And initial here. This waives your rights to human dignity, privacy, and autonomy for the next seventy-two hours."

I stared at the number at the bottom of the page. Five hundred thousand gold coins. It was an astronomical sum, enough to buy a small pack’s territory. It was also exactly what the rogues were demanding for Zyon’s life.

My chest tightened at the thought of Zyon. My mate. The man who looked at me with pity rather than love, who hid our bond because I was a wolfless Omega—the defect of the Silver Moon Pack. But he was mine. The Moon Goddess had tethered my soul to his, and I would not let the rogues chop him to pieces over a gambling debt.

I swallowed the bile rising in my throat and signed.

"Excellent," the lawyer said, snatching the paper away. "The Alpha is waiting. Strip."

I froze. The opulent office, with its mahogany bookshelves and smell of old money, suddenly felt like a cage. My fingers fumbled with the hem of my worn-out jeans. I stripped down to my undergarments, shivering not from cold, but from a shame so deep it burned.

The lawyer handed me a collar. It was thick, black leather with silver studs, heavy and cold. As I buckled it around my own neck, the click of the lock echoed like a gunshot.

"Come, pet," a guard sneered, grabbing the leash attached to the collar.

I was led through the sprawling Shadowclaw estate. It was a palace compared to the crumbling barracks I lived in, but I wasn't here as a guest. I was led to a room that smelled of lavender and humiliation. There was no bed, only a pile of plush furs in the corner.

The door opened, and the air in the room grew heavy, charged with a static electricity that made the hair on my arms stand up.

Alpha Holden Hudson.

He was terrifying. He stood over six feet tall, his shoulders broad enough to block out the light from the hallway. His eyes were the color of storm clouds, dark and turbulent. He didn't look at me with lust or cruelty. He looked at me like I was a specimen in a jar.

He walked to the center of the room and placed a ceramic bowl on the floor. It was filled with high-quality steak, cooked rare, but it was on the floor.

"Eat," he commanded. His voice was a low rumble that vibrated in my chest.

I stared at the bowl. Tears pricked my eyes. I was an Omega, used to scrubbing floors and taking orders, but I was still human. This... this was something else.

"I said, eat," Holden repeated, his tone dropping an octave. The Alpha command slammed into me, forcing my knees to bend.

*For Zyon,* I chanted internally. *For Zyon.*

I lowered myself to my hands and knees. My face burned as I crawled toward the bowl. I could feel Holden’s gaze on me, heavy and suffocating. I took a bite. The meat was delicious, far better than the scraps I usually ate, but it tasted like ash in my mouth. I ate until the bowl was empty, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, refusing to look up.

"Interesting," Holden murmured.

I dared to glance up. He was crouching in front of me, close enough that I could smell him—cedar, rain, and raw power.

"Most wolves would be radiating fear right now," he said quietly, his eyes searching mine. "Or anger. You smell of... determination."

He stood up abruptly, the moment broken. "Sleep, pet. Tomorrow is a long day."

The second night was worse.

To satisfy the terms of the contract, I had to be displayed. I was chained to a marble statue in the center of the Pack House garden. The full moon hung heavy in the sky, mocking me. The autumn wind bit through the thin silk tunic they had dressed me in, chilling me to the bone.

From the shadows of the terrace, I could hear the servants whispering.

"Can you believe it?" a maid hissed. "Selling herself like a dog for coin. She has no shame."

"It’s what old Alpha Cassius wanted," another replied. "A test for his madness. Who else but a desperate wretch would agree to this?"

I hugged my knees to my chest, trying to stop my teeth from chattering. They didn't know. They didn't know I was doing this to save a warrior who wouldn't even hold my hand in public. The cold was seeping into my marrow, making my limbs numb.

I closed my eyes, picturing Zyon’s face, hoping he was safe. Hoping he was thinking of me.

Suddenly, the wind stopped. Or rather, something blocked it.

I snapped my eyes open. Alpha Holden was standing there. He was wearing a tuxedo, looking like a dark prince from a fairy tale, starkly out of place in the damp garden.

He didn't say a word. He looked at the shivering heap I had become, his jaw tightening.

Slowly, he unclasped the heavy wool cloak from his shoulders. He stepped forward, the chain around my neck rattling as I flinched back. He paused, waiting for me to settle, and then draped the cloak over me.

The warmth was instant. It smelled like him—intoxicating and safe. It was a scent that confused my wolf, a scent that shouldn't belong to my jailer.

His fingers brushed against my neck as he adjusted the fabric, sending a shockwave of sparks down my spine. My breath hitched.

"The contract says you must be chained," Holden said, his voice rough, barely a whisper. "It doesn't say you have to freeze."

He lingered for a second too long, his grey eyes locking onto mine. For a heartbeat, I wasn't a pet, and he wasn't an Alpha. We were just two souls colliding in the dark. Then, he turned and walked away, leaving me wrapped in his scent, more confused and terrified than ever.