Chapter 49
Kara
The afternoon light filters through the massive windows of my new room—my room, with its pearl-white freestanding tub and soft cream carpet that my bare feet sink into.
I should be unpacking. Should be reveling in the fact that I finally have space, that the Arctic White Tesla sitting in the driveway is somehow mine, that the iPhone 17 Pro Max in my hand isn't something I'll have to return.
Instead, I'm calculating.
Tesla Model X: approximately $100,000.
MacBook Pro, iPad Pro, iPhone—another $10,500.
The Canada Goose parka hanging in my new closet: $1,500.
UGG boots: $550.
The Zimmermann swimsuits I haven't even seen yet, the designer dresses, the ice-blue velvet outfit laid out for tonight's date—I conservatively estimate another $50,000.
My hands are shaking as I pull up the calculator app.
Total: Over $200,000.
The number glows on the screen, mocking me. My father's original debt was $250,000—the debt that cost me ten years of my life, that turned me into a glorified slave, that left me sleeping in a storage closet and scrubbing toilets at dawn.
And now, in less than three days, these three Alphas have given me gifts worth nearly as much.
What if this is just another trap?
My wolf snarls in protest. They're our mates! Why are you counting pennies like some paranoid—
"Because I've been here before," I whisper to the empty room. My reflection in the full-length mirror looks haunted—the ice-blue velvet dress they picked out for tonight hangs beside me like a beautiful shackle. "Because people don't just give you things. Not without expecting something back."
What if seven months from now, when I graduate, they present me with an invoice?
You owe us $200,000 for gifts received.
You owe us your freedom.
You can never leave.
My phone buzzes—a text from Blake:
Can't wait for tonight, Baby. You're gonna love what I have planned.
The affection in his words should warm me. Instead, ice spreads through my veins.
I need air. I need to think. I need to get away from these walls that suddenly feel like they're closing in, even though they're twenty times larger than my storage room ever was.
Without thinking, I bolt.
---
The cold hits me like a physical blow the second I step outside. I'm wearing thin indoor clothes—a white knit sweater and gray sweatpants, no coat, no boots—but I don't care. The December wind screams across the grounds of Midnight Estate, visibility dropping to nearly zero as the blizzard intensifies.
I run toward the path leading to the frozen bay, my feet crunching through knee-deep snow.
Father's debt: $250,000. I worked for ten years—$230,400 paid off...
Current gifts: $200,000. If I leave, how many more years would I owe?
If they Mark me, can they track me? Can they force me back?
The calculations spiral in my head, growing more frantic with each step. Snow pelts my face, stinging like tiny knives. My fingers are already going numb.
I think of that childhood game—hide and seek in the blizzard. Eleven years old, hypothermic, my lips blue, Cole carrying me inside while his brothers laughed...
I almost died that day.
And yet here I am, voluntarily walking into another storm.
Because sometimes physical pain is easier to process than emotional confusion.
My legs are shaking now—whether from cold or fear, I can't tell. The five cars in the driveway fade behind me, ghost-shapes in the whiteout. Each one a golden cage.
The Tesla. The gifts. The promises.
All of it—another form of debt.
My wolf is screaming at me: GO BACK! They're WARM! They're OURS!
But I keep walking, stumbling now, because if I go back, if I let them touch me again, if I let myself believe this is real—
What happens when it all gets taken away?
What happens when—
Three scents slam into me simultaneously.
Black ebony and tobacco. Gunpowder and leather. Peppermint and ozone.
No. No, no, no—
---
Blake
The second Kara's scent trail leads outside, I shift.
My wolf explodes from my skin in a burst of gunpowder and rage, clothes shredding, and I'm running before Asher can stop me with an Alpha command. Cole and Asher's wolves flank me within seconds, their ebony and mint scents cutting through the blizzard.
She's out here in THIS?! Without a COAT?!
The mind-link crackles to life:
Asher: Blake, do NOT lose your shit when we find her. She's clearly panicking—
Blake: She's going to get HYPOTHERMIA! Again! Because of US!
Cole: I can smell her—she's only a quarter mile ahead, near the frozen creek—
We burst through the tree line and there she is.
Kara.
Standing in the middle of a snow drift, her golden curls plastered to her face by the wind, her white sweater soaked through, her lips already tinged blue.
She's shaking.
I shift back to human form, snow burning my bare feet and chest, and I don't give her time to run.
I scoop her into my arms.
"Blake—" Her voice is a broken rasp.
"You're done," I snarl, and I don't care that my Alpha voice is bleeding through, making her wolf submit. "You're done trying to freeze yourself to death every time you get scared."
Her fists beat weakly against my chest. "Put me down. I need to think—"
"No." I'm already moving, carrying her back toward the estate. Asher and Cole flank us in wolf form, their bodies creating a windbreak. "You can think inside. Where it's warm."
"The gifts—" She's sobbing now, her whole body convulsing. "The car, the phone, everything—if I leave, do I have to give it back? If I can't pay you back, will you—will you make me—"
The words shatter something in my chest.
I stop walking.
Asher shifts beside me, his black ebony scent wrapping around us like a shield as he pulls off his parka and drapes it over Kara's trembling form. His blue eyes are furious—not at her, but at himself. At us.
"Those were gifts, Kara," he says, his voice deadly calm. "Not loans. Not debt. Gifts. You can smash the Tesla with a sledgehammer if you want. Burn the clothes. Throw the phone into the bay. I. Don't. Care."
Cole shifts too, immediately checking her fingers and toes, his voice thick with panic. "Her skin's already turning blue—Blake, we need to get her inside now—"
But I'm staring at Kara's face, at the tear tracks freezing on her cheeks, at the terror in her brown eyes.
"You thought we were setting you up," I whisper. "You thought we were building a new debt so you could never escape."
She nods, barely, and the guilt is a fucking sledgehammer to my ribs.
"If you want to leave after you graduate," Asher says, dropping to his knees in the snow so he's at her eye level, "we won't stop you. We won't ask for a single thing back. But right now, Kara—right now—you need to let us save your life. Again."
"Please," Cole chokes out, his mint scent turning sharp with desperation. "Please don't hurt yourself because you're afraid of us. We can't—I can't—please."
Kara's sobs turn silent, and then she goes limp in my arms, her body surrendering even as her mind wars with itself.
"Take me back," she whispers.
And I run.