******
Eve spent the entire next day in a state of controlled panic.
She went to the hospital in the morning, sat with her mother while Dr. Williams explained the treatment protocol. Margaret looked hopeful for the first time in months, talking about things she wanted to do when she was better...travel, finally finish her garden, maybe get a cat.
Eve smiled and nodded and tried not to think about what she'd sold to make those dreams possible.
By the time she returned to her apartment at 4 PM, her stomach was in knots. Three hours until the car arrived. Three hours until she met them.
She stood in front of her closet, staring at her meager wardrobe with rising desperation. Dress appropriately, the email had said. What did that even mean?
After twenty minutes of paralysis, she settled on a simple black dress...modest neckline, hem just above the knee. Professional but feminine. She paired it with low heels and minimal jewelry. Her makeup was careful and neutral, her dark hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail.
When she looked in the mirror, she saw someone who might be going to a business dinner. Not someone about to spend the night with three dangerous men who'd bought six months of her life.
The overnight bag sat on her bed, packed with basics...toiletries, change of clothes, phone charger. She'd agonized over what pajamas to bring before deciding on a simple tank top and sleep shorts. Nothing too revealing, nothing too prudish.
At 6:45 PM, her phone buzzed.
Maya: You still have time to run. I'm serious. Just leave. Go somewhere they can't find you.
Eve typed and deleted three different responses before settling on: I'll be fine. I'll text you tomorrow.
Maya: If you don't text me by noon, I'm calling the police.
Eve: Deal.
At 6:58 PM, there was a knock on her door.
Eve jumped, her heart racing. She grabbed her bag with shaking hands and opened the door.
A man in a black suit stood in the hallway...tall, broad-shouldered, with the unmistakable aura of a shifter. His eyes were cold and assessing.
"Miss Chen?"
"Yes."
"I'm Marcus. I'll be driving you to the estate this evening." His gaze swept over her, professional but thorough. "Are you ready?"
No. "Yes."
He took her bag without asking and gestured toward the stairwell. "This way, please."
The car waiting outside was a black SUV with tinted windows....expensive and anonymous. Marcus opened the back door for her, and Eve slid inside, her hands clasped tightly in her lap.
The interior smelled like leather and something else....pine and musk. Werewolf scent, she realized. This was their vehicle, marked with their presence.
Marcus got in the driver's seat and pulled smoothly into traffic. He didn't speak, and Eve was grateful. She didn't think she could manage small talk right now.
The city gave way to suburbs, then to countryside as they drove north. Eve watched the landscape change through the tinted windows, each mile taking her farther from everything familiar.
After forty-five minutes, they turned onto a private road. Trees pressed close on either side, creating a tunnel of darkness. Eve's anxiety ratcheted higher with every passing second.
Then the trees opened up, and she saw it.
The Blackwood estate.
It wasn't a house. It was a compound...a massive stone mansion that looked like it had been transplanted from some Gothic novel. Three stories of dark stone and tall windows, surrounded by manicured grounds that seemed to stretch endlessly.
"Jesus," Eve whispered.
Marcus's eyes met hers in the rearview mirror. "The main house has forty-two rooms. The alpha triplets reside in the west wing. That's where you'll be staying tonight."
Forty-two rooms. This wasn't a home....it was a castle.
The SUV pulled up to the front entrance, where warm light spilled from tall windows. Marcus opened her door, offering his hand to help her out.
Eve's legs felt unsteady as she stood. The night air was cool and smelled of pine and earth. Somewhere in the distance, she heard wolves howling.
"This way," Marcus said, leading her up wide stone steps to enormous double doors.
They opened before he could knock.
A woman stood in the doorway...older, maybe sixty, with steel-gray hair and sharp eyes. She wore a simple black dress and an expression of practiced neutrality.
"Miss Chen," she said. "I'm Mrs. Blackwood, the house manager. Welcome to Blackwood Estate."
The name registered. "You're related to...?"
"No," the woman interrupted smoothly. "Blackwood is simply the surname I've used for thirty years in service to this family. Come inside, please."
Eve stepped into an entrance hall that took her breath away. Soaring ceilings, a grand staircase that split in two directions, dark wood paneling that gleamed in the chandelier light. Everything screamed wealth and power.
"The masters are finishing business," Mrs. Blackwood said, her heels clicking on marble floors as she led Eve deeper into the house. "They'll join you shortly. I'll show you to the guest suite where you can freshen up."
They walked through corridors that seemed to go on forever. Eve glimpsed rooms through open doors....a library with floor-to-ceiling books, a formal dining room with a table that could seat thirty, a sitting room with furniture that probably cost more than her entire apartment building.
Finally, Mrs. Blackwood stopped at a door in what she'd called the west wing. "This is your suite for the evening."
She opened the door, and Eve stepped into a room that was larger than her entire apartment.
The bedroom was decorated in deep blues and silvers...a massive four-poster bed dominated one wall, draped in silk that looked like water. French doors opened onto a private balcony. Another door led to what appeared to be a bathroom.
"The masters' private quarters are through that connecting door," Mrs. Blackwood pointed to a heavy wooden door on the far wall. "They'll come through when they're ready. Your bag has been placed in the closet. Is there anything else you require?"
Eve's mouth was dry. "No. Thank you."
Mrs. Blackwood studied her for a moment, and something almost like sympathy crossed her face. "A word of advice, Miss Chen. The masters value obedience and honesty above all else. Don't lie to them, don't try to manipulate them, and don't run. Those who've made those mistakes have regretted it."
Before Eve could respond, the woman was gone, the door clicking shut behind her.
Eve stood alone in the opulent bedroom, her heart pounding.
Don't run.
As if she could. As if there was anywhere to go in this massive estate surrounded by pack lands. As if she hadn't already signed away her right to refuse.
She walked to the French doors and stepped onto the balcony. The view was breathtaking...rolling grounds lit by moonlight, forests in the distance, and beyond that, mountains. It was beautiful and isolated and utterly removed from the world she knew.
A prison disguised as paradise.
"Impressive, isn't it?"
Eve spun around, her heart leaping into her throat.
A man stood in the bedroom doorway...tall, broad-shouldered, with dark hair and eyes like storm clouds. He wore a black suit that fit him perfectly, emphasizing the powerful body beneath. His face was all sharp angles and harsh beauty, cold in a way that made her want to step back.
But she couldn't move. Couldn't breathe.
Because this was one of them.
"Damian," he said, stepping into the room with predatory grace. "The eldest. Though only by minutes."
His voice was exactly like his email...cold, precise, commanding. He moved like a predator, each step deliberate and controlled.
"Eve Chen," he continued, stopping a few feet away. Close enough that she could smell him...pine and smoke and something darker. "Twenty-three years old. Only child. Mother dying of a rare blood disease. No father in the picture. You've been dancing at Eclipse for eight months, and you've never taken a private client before now."
She should be disturbed that he knew so much. Instead, she just felt exposed.
"You researched me."
"Of course." His gray eyes swept over her, clinical and assessing. "Did you think we'd sign a six-month contract with someone we hadn't thoroughly investigated?"
Two more figures appeared in the doorway.
Brothers...that much was immediately obvious. They had the same height, the same powerful build, the same predatory grace. But where Damian was ice, these two were fire and shadow.
The one on the left had the same dark hair as Damian, but his eyes were green and gleamed with dangerous amusement. Scars marked his jaw and neck...evidence of fights won or survived. He smiled when he saw her, and it was the smile of a wolf who'd cornered prey.
"Damon," he said, his voice rough velvet. "The middle. The fun one."
The third brother said nothing. He simply stared at her with eyes so dark they looked black. His face was leaner than his brothers', almost beautiful in its severity. Where Damian radiated cold control and Damon radiated wild danger, this one radiated... intensity. Like he was cataloging every detail of her existence.
"Silas," Damian said. "The youngest. Don't expect much conversation from him. He prefers to watch."
The way he said watch made Eve's skin prickle.
All three of them were in the room now, and suddenly the enormous space felt too small. They surrounded her without seeming to move...Damian in front, Damon circling to her right, Silas drifting to her left.
Predators boxing in prey.
"You signed the contract," Damian said. It wasn't a question.
"Yes."
"You read all sixty-three pages?"
"Yes."
"And you understand what you've agreed to?" His gray eyes pinned her in place. "Six months. Your body, your time, your obedience. All ours."
Eve's hands clenched at her sides. "I understand."
"Do you?" Damon moved closer, circling her like he was considering how to take his first bite. "Because you look terrified, little dancer. Like you're about to bolt."
"I won't run," Eve said, lifting her chin. "I signed a contract. I keep my promises."
"How noble." Damon's smile widened. "But we don't want your nobility. We want your submission."
Silas finally spoke, his voice quiet but somehow more commanding than his brothers'. "You smell like fear."