WICKED PROVIDENCE

"Drop the job, Avery. Or Harper’s rank gets stripped to Omega."

Hudson’s voice didn’t rise. It didn't have to. The air in the Silver Ridge study tasted like iron and static—the weight of an Alpha’s command pressing against her lungs. Avery’s hands moved in a frantic, jagged rhythm. Don't touch her. She only defended me. I'll quit. I’ll stay.

Hudson’s jaw rippled as he ground his teeth, but he stayed rooted behind the desk.

The silence between them stretched, brittle and cold. Avery’s heart hammered a frantic tattoo against her ribs. She saw the flash of gold in his eyes—the beast beneath the skin looking for a reason to snap. If he went after Harper, it would be Avery’s fault. The guilt was a physical weight, a stone in her gut.

She stepped forward, her fingers trembling as she caught the rough wool of his sleeve. He didn't shake her off. Avery took a shallow, hitching breath. She forced her ruined vocal cords to vibrate, pushing a single, gravelly sound through the scars.

"Hud... son..."

The Alpha froze. The lethal tension in his shoulders shattered. He looked at her, really looked at her, and for a second, the predatory mask cracked. He remembered the girl before the fever. The girl who used to howl at the moon by his side before her wolf went dormant and her voice broke.

"Fine," he rasped, his hand covering hers. "For you. She keeps her rank."

Avery let out a breath she’d been holding since the tavern. A weak, watery smile touched her lips. She threw her arms around his neck, burying her face in the crook of his shoulder. He smelled of cedar and the sharp, metallic tang of the storm.

He gripped her waist, pulling her flush against him. His hand drifted to her hair, his fingers threading through the dark strands. He tilted her head back. His mouth crashed into hers, tasting of harsh ale and a sudden, desperate hunger.

The kiss was a claim. Avery met it, her fingers digging into his back, her body melting into the heat he radiated. Then, the shrill, persistent howl of a phone broke the spell.

Hudson tore away, his breath coming in ragged hitches. He snatched the device from the desk. Avery slumped against the bookshelf, her skin stinging, her mind a mess.

"Where are you?" Madison’s voice shrieked through the speaker, sharp enough to cut the air. "You promised! You said you’d stay at the Scarlett Vale tonight!"

Hudson’s face turned back to stone.

"I heard you went back to the estate," Madison hissed, her voice turning into a pathetic, high-pitched whine. "How could you? After that bitch attacked me? My face is bruised, Hudson. I can't even shift without pain. And you're there... with her."

Avery looked at the floor. The familiar ache returned, a dull throb in her chest.

"Avery is sick," Hudson said, his voice flat.

"I’m sick too!" Madison wailed. "My head is spinning, I’m shivering... I think my cycle is starting and my wolf is restless. I need my Alpha, Hudson. Please. Come to me."

The neediness in Madison’s tone was thick, cloying like rotten honey. Avery stepped toward Hudson. She signed with a weary, resigned grace. Go. Check on her. I am fine.

Hudson’s eyes turned amber. "You want me to leave?"

Avery misread the flash of hurt for anger. She quickly bowed her head, her hands moving in a blurred apology. I didn't mean to overhear. I'm sorry.

"I’m coming," Hudson snapped into the phone. He didn't look at Avery again. He grabbed his leather jacket and stormed out, the heavy oak door slamming with a force that rattled the windows.

The next morning, Avery walked into the archives to find Harper. The air was thick with the scent of old parchment and dust.

"Avery! What happened?" Harper dropped a stack of scrolls, rushing over. "Did he hurt you? That bastard owes you more than a silent treatment."

Avery shook her head, a forced smile pinned to her face. She signed the truth—the version she had to tell. I’m resigning, Harper. It’s for the best.

Harper slammed her fist into a wooden pillar. "That bitch! This is Madison's doing, isn't it? She wants you isolated. Locked in that villa like a trophy he doesn't even want to display."

Avery patted Harper’s shoulder, her movements frantic. Don't. Stay quiet. I don't want you in trouble.

"I don't give a damn about trouble!" Harper sighed, her shoulders sagging. "I just hate seeing you play the martyr."

Avery pulled out a small pouch of silver coins—her own savings from years of translating. She pressed them into Harper’s hand.

"What the hell is this?" Harper demanded.

Compensation, Avery signed. For the trouble I brought you.

"Keep your damn silver!" Harper shoved the pouch back. "Why are you quitting? Is he forcing you? Divorce him, Avery. Come stay at my family’s den. We’re not High-Blood, but we don't treat our females like property."

Avery’s chest felt tight. Her head began to throb with a rhythmic, pulsing heat. She lied, her fingers moving slowly. He wants us to fix the marriage. He wants me home.

Harper’s eyes narrowed. "He wants to fix it? After last night? Pull the other one, Avery."

Avery tried to reply, but the room suddenly tilted. The rows of books blurred into a grey smear. Her legs turned to water.

"Avery!"

Harper’s scream was the last thing she heard before the floor rushed up to meet her.

Avery woke to the sterile, sharp scent of crushed herbs and antiseptic. The infirmary ceiling was a blur of white stone.

"Low glucose and severe exhaustion," a voice muttered.

Avery turned her head. Grant Lawson stood by the bed, his face etched with worry. Harper was pacing the small room, her boots clicking like a metronome.

"How could he let you get like this?" Grant asked, stepping closer. "Malnutrition? Does the Montgomery Alpha not feed his own mate?"

Avery managed a weak, dismissive sign. I forgot to eat. My fault.

In reality, the lavish meals she prepared for Hudson usually ended up in the scrap bin. Her stomach had shrunk until the very thought of food made her nauseous.

"Landon is a deadbeat," Harper spat. "I called his Enforcer. The guy told me not to 'bother the Alpha with trivialities.' Can you believe that? His wife collapses in the dirt and it’s a triviality?"

Avery’s heart sank. She signed quickly, her movements sharp. He was in a Council meeting. Don't blame him. I'm fine now.

"Yeah, you’re always fine," Harper sighed, opening a wooden box filled with smoked meat and berries. "Eat. All of it. Or I’m dragging you back to my den myself."

Grant stayed by the door, his gaze lingering on Avery with a heavy, unspoken regret.

Hours later, they dropped her at the villa gates. Avery expected the house to be empty, but as she pushed open the heavy front door, she saw him.

Hudson was sprawled on the furs of the sunken living room. His hair was a mess, his shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest. His eyes were dark, shadowed with a brooding, dangerous energy.

"Where have you been?" he asked, his voice low and gravelly. His gaze dropped to the food box Harper had insisted she carry. "Out for a stroll with the commoners?"

Avery stood in the doorway, the scent of his jealousy—sharp and biting like woodsmoke—filling her nose. She clutched the box tighter, her knuckles white.

"Answer me, Avery," he growled, standing up. He moved toward her with a predator’s grace, his shadow stretching across the floor until it swallowed her whole. "Who were you with?"