Rough hands seize her arms, yanking her sideways. She struggles, kicking out, her heel connecting with a shin, her elbow jamming into a gut.
One of the men, the driver, curses and releases her.
She twists free, darting past Victor just as Maxwell steps down from the car.
The Alpha's presence is overwhelming—tall, sharp, radiating power like heat from a forge. His eyes, black and bottomless, narrow as Gina skids to a halt before him, chest heaving.
"Explain this," Maxwell demands, his voice cold enough to freeze bone.
Victor starts to speak, but Gina cuts him off, desperation lending her strength. "Use me!" she shouts with all her might, voice cracking as the words boom through the street, "Alpha, please—use me instead!"
The world seems to stop. Even the wind falls silent.
The men stare, mouths open.
Victor looks scandalized.
Maxwell's expression is unreadable, a flicker of surprise breaking through his mask.
Victor recovers first, barking at the guards. "Grab her!"
Hands close around Gina's wrists, dragging her back, but Maxwell raises a hand. "Leave her," He orders sharply.
The guards freeze. Gina sags in their grip, tears streaking her cheeks, but she forces herself to meet Maxwell's gaze.
"What do you mean, 'use you'?" he asks, his tone flat, dangerous.
Gina draws a shuddering breath. "I'm poor. I have nothing. I don't care what you want from me—sex, anything—if you'll just pay me enough to help my grandfather. I know I'm not high rank, but low-level omegas like me, we're good at breeding. I can give you healthy babies if that's what you want." She says with desperation, eyes imploring the man to believe her.
Maxwell's eyes narrow further, but he doesn't interrupt.
She presses on, voice trembling but clear. "Even though my caste is terrible, there's research—if a high-ranking Alpha sleeps with a low-level omega, there's an eight percent chance the child will be higher rank. With you, it's even better. You're Prime Alpha. There's no way it could go wrong."
A stunned silence hangs in the air. Victor's mouth opens, then closes again, at a loss for words.
The men look to Maxwell, waiting.
Maxwell studies her, his gaze sharp and assessing. "You're very sure of yourself for someone so low on the ladder," he drawls coldly, no inch given in his words.
Gina shakes her head, wiping her face with the back of her hand. "I'm not sure of anything. But I have nothing to lose. I'll do anything. Just… let me try. Please."
For a moment, Maxwell says nothing. The only sound is Gina's ragged breathing, the distant hum of the city. Then, finally, he speaks—voice soft, but carrying the weight of command.
"Let her go."
The guards release her. Gina staggers, catching herself. Maxwell takes a step closer, his presence almost suffocating.
"You're either very brave," he says quietly, "or very foolish."
She meets his gaze, her own eyes shining with tears and defiance. "Maybe both."
Maxwell's lips twitch, not quite a smile. He turns to Victor. "Bring her inside. I want to hear more."
Victor hesitates, then nods. "Yes, sir."
Gina's knees nearly buckle with relief. She follows as they lead her back through the gates, the world spinning with shock and hope and terror.
For the first time, she wonders if she has just saved herself—or stepped into a cage she will never escape.
***
As they reach the car, Victor opens the door, and Maxwell gestures for Gina to get in. She hesitates, unsure, but Maxwell's expression brooks no argument. She slides into the middle seat, Victor getting in on her right, and Maxwell on her left.
The moment the doors close, the tension in the car becomes palpable. Victor scowls, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. Maxwell sits stiffly, his gaze fixed on Gina, his eyes shooting her death stares. Gina fidgets, her heart racing, trying to avoid his gaze.
"Why did you have to take this car?" Maxwell mutters, his voice low and annoyed as he shifts a little in the cozy space. "Youcould have taken another one."
Victor's glare intensifies, if that's even possible. "I won't leave you alone with someone who could be an assassin, Maxwell. You know how many enemies you have."
Gina shrinks further into her seat. "I'm not an assassin!" she protests, her voice shaky and barely above a whisper. The accusation stings, adding another layer of anxiety to her already frayed nerves but victor's gaze never wavers. "I'll be the judge of that."
Gina just frowns at him mulishly.
She is many things, desperate, poor, but an assassin is not one of them.
Maxwell sighs, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair. "Victor, your paranoia is astounding. And Gina," he turns his piercing gaze on her, "if you were an assassin, you've made a terrible job of it so far."
The car ride continues in strained silence, punctuated only by Victor's occasional snorts of disbelief and Gina's silent prayers for it to be over. The tension in the car is so thick you could cut it with a knife. She wonders what awaits her.
Finally, the car pulls up to a massive, wrought-iron gate. Beyond it, a long, winding driveway leads to an imposing building that is the Westros pack alpha estate. The omega is a nervous wreck as she looks up at the intimidating structure.
The building looms before her, a gothic monstrosity of dark stone and shadowed windows..
Her heart pounds in her chest as the car continues its slow crawl up the driveway. She tries to imagine what life inside those walls will be like, but her mind draws a blank. Will she be a prisoner? A concubine? A broodmare? She doesn't know, and the uncertainty is almost as terrifying as the certainty of her grandfather's impending death if she doesn't do this
The car stops in front of a grand entrance, and a uniformed servant rushes forward to open the door. Maxwell steps out immediately, Victor following suit.
Gina hesitates, her hand hovering over the handle. This is it. There's no turning back now.
She takes a deep breath, steels her resolve, and steps out of the car, ready to face whatever fate has in store for her.