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,*