The Alpha’s Traded Mate

Zeva’s POV

The Northern Packhouse was colder than any winter storm I’d ever lived through.

Not because of the temperature—though the stone floors were icy enough to numb my toes—but because the air felt hollow. Like warmth didn’t survive long here. Like it was a place built for power, not people.

Roxie walked two steps ahead of me, her boots striking sharp, unforgiving echoes across the long hallway. She didn’t slow down. Didn’t look back. Didn’t bother to soften her voice when she finally spoke.

“Rule one,” she said brusquely. “You don’t wander. Not inside, not outside. You stay where you’re placed unless the Alpha or I tell you otherwise.”

I nodded, though she wasn’t looking at me.

“Rule two. You don’t address the Alpha unless he asks you a direct question.”

My breath hitched—because I remembered the bond that hit me earlier like a lightning strike. I remembered the way he glared at me like I was a stain on his territory, a mistake, an inconvenience. The memory made my chest tighten.

“Rule three,” Roxie continued, her tone sharpening. “Hierarchy here is simple. You’re at the bottom.”

Heat crawled up my neck, humiliation sinking deep. Bottom. Even though I was supposed to be his bride—his mate, in ways he refused to acknowledge. Even though an entire ceremony had been performed to hand me over like an offering.

Roxie slowed just enough to glance back at me, expression bored.

“No challenging anyone. Omega, Warrior, Gamma—anyone outranks you.”

“And you?” I asked quietly.

Her lips curled in a half-smirk. “I outrank you most.”

Of course she did. She had the look of someone Aric trusted—sharp-eyed, cold, efficient. A woman molded by the North’s ruthlessness.

“And the last rule.” Her voice dropped, almost as if she enjoyed this part. “No refusal when summoned for breeding duties.”

My stomach twisted. The words were vile. Dehumanizing. A slap in the face of everything I thought being someone’s mate might eventually mean.

I swallowed hard. “I see.”

Roxie shrugged. “You don’t have to like it. You just have to comply. The Alpha isn’t patient with rebellion.”

The Alpha.

Not my mate.

Not my husband.

Just the Alpha.

She pushed open a door and gestured inside. “This is your room. Someone will come get you when you’re needed.”

Needed.

Like a tool.

A function.

Not a person.

The small room felt suffocating the moment I stepped in—bare stone walls, a thin mattress, a single window facing a courtyard of frost and shadows. Cold seeped into me. Into my bones.

I barely had time to sit when a knock echoed.

Roxie’s voice came muffled through the wood. “The Alpha wants you.”

Already?

A chill shot through me—not fear of him, but fear of what his cruelty might look like up close.

I followed her through the halls again, pulse thudding in my ears. She led me to a heavy wooden door, opened it, and motioned for me to step inside alone.

Aric stood behind a large desk, not looking up. Papers were arranged in meticulous rows, and the fire behind him cast sharp shadows across his face.

He didn’t speak. Didn’t acknowledge me. Didn’t look at me for a full ten seconds.

When he finally did, the air thinned.

His gaze was ice. Controlled. Deadly. And absolutely indifferent.

“Sit.”

The single command hit me like a physical push. I sat—more out of instinct than obedience.

He slid a document across the desk. “This is our contract.”

I blinked. “Our what?”

“Our arrangement,” he clarified, voice clipped. “You seem intelligent enough to understand the need for clarity.”

I looked down. My breath caught.

A contract.

Cold. Precise. Brutal.

Clause One: No emotional expectations between parties.

Clause Two: The bride will not be given the title of Luna.

Clause Three: The bride will have no authority or participation in pack decisions.

Clause Four: The bride’s primary and only purpose is to bear strong heirs within a reasonable timeframe.

A tremor ran through me.

I didn’t look up immediately. I couldn’t. The words blurred, sharp edges digging into my mind like shards of glass.

When I finally forced my voice out, it came cracked and quiet.

“Is this how you see me? A… function?”

Aric’s jaw tightened, but not with guilt. “This is reality.”

“It’s inhumane.”

His eyes snapped to mine—cold, furious, dangerous.

“Inhumane?” He stepped around the desk and came closer. “You were traded, Zeva. Not courted. Not chosen. Not loved. You were offered as a breeder to strengthen my bloodline.”

Each word was a blow.

A reminder.

A cruelty.

He leaned down so close I could feel the chill of his breath.

“You have no leverage here. No power. And certainly no say in what I require from you.”

My hands balled into fists on my lap. “You don’t have to treat me like this.”

“I treat you as what you are,” he replied calmly. “A responsibility I didn’t ask for.”

My throat closed. “So that’s all I am to you.”

“The sooner you accept your place,” he said, straightening, “the easier this will be.”

I felt something splinter inside me. Not enough to break—but enough to hurt. Enough to scar.

He tapped the contract. “You will sign this by tomorrow.”

I stood slowly. My legs trembled, but I refused to let them buckle. “And if I don’t?”

His gaze hardened. “You will.”

Because he expected me to. Because every woman before me had broken under that voice, that authority.

I walked out without waiting to be dismissed.

Roxie wasn’t there. No guards. No witnesses to the humiliation burning beneath my skin.

I returned to my room, shut the door, and pressed my back to it.

The tremble in my hands returned with vengeance, but I refused—absolutely refused—to let tears fall.

I had cried enough in my old pack. I would not cry here.

Not for him.

Not for this place.

Not for my fate.

If Aric thought stripping me of rights would strip me of spirit, he was wrong.

He didn’t know my heart.

He didn’t know the fire my mother left inside me.

He didn’t know I could endure more than chains and cold words.

Let him believe I was powerless.

Let him believe I would bend.

I would survive this place.

I would survive him.

And I would not break.

Not for an Alpha’s contract.

Not for an Alpha’s cruelty.

Not for an Alpha who believed he could crush me into silence.

I whispered into the darkness of my small, freezing room. “You can take everything, Aric. But you won’t take me.”