Page 67 of The Reaper's Vow
Beside him stands a woman who must be Damien's mother, Helena. She's stunning in a cold, untouchable way—elegantly dressed in what looks like designer clothes, her dark hair swept into a perfect updo without a strand out of place. Her hand rests possessively on her husband's shoulder, and I catch a flash ofdiamond and platinum on her ring finger that could probably pay off my car and the damages to my apartment.
And then there’s his sister, Bella. Younger than Damien by several years but carrying the same fierce presence. Her attention flicks between her brother and me with open curiosity. She’s beautiful in a wild way her mother isn’t—less polished, more untamed. The resemblance to Damien is immediate in the cut of her jaw and the force of her presence.
“Care to explain to me why you’re here, Damien,” Hudson growls. He doesn’t rise from his seat. “You’re exiled.” His focus shifts to me, and I fight the urge to step back. The way he studies me is clinical, assessing, like I’m a horse at auction. “Who is this female?”
“This is Karina,” Damien says, his hand pressing more firmly against the small of my back. “My mate.”
Helena’s gasp cuts through the silence, her hand flying to her throat. “You bonded without your father’s approval?”
“I wasn’t aware I needed permission.”
“Don’t be insolent,” Hudson snaps, rising with a fluid grace that belies his age. He circles the desk, each step deliberate, predatory. “You were sent to Bellandi to learn discipline—not to forget your place in my pack.”
I fight the urge to step back as he approaches. Up close, his power is overwhelming—an invisible pressure against my skin, demanding submission. My wolf bristles beneath the surface, refusing to cower despite the alpha's presence.
“The bond’s unfinished—you haven’t sealed it,” Hudson murmurs, eyes gleaming.
“The full moon is tomorrow night,” Damien says, his hand never leaving my back.
Hudson narrows his focus on me, the force of his scrutiny pressing like something tangible. “And does she agree to thisarrangement? Or did you simply take what you wanted, as usual?”
“I’m right here,” I snap before I can stop myself. “You can ask me directly.”
The room goes deathly silent. Helena stiffens, her hand tightening around the edge of her chair, while Bella’s mouth twitches with what might be suppressed laughter. Damien’s fingers dig into my hip in warning, but I don’t back down. If I’m going to be thrown to these wolves, I’m not going meekly.
Hudson's expression shifts from surprise to something more calculating. He circles me slowly, like a predator evaluating prey. “She has spirit, I'll give her that, but she's not even close to what we arranged.”
“Serena DeLupo was your arrangement, not mine,” Damien counters.
Hudson completes his circle, stopping directly in front of me. He's tall—not as tall as Damien but imposing in a different way. Where Damien's power is raw and physical, Hudson's is refined, honed by decades of command.
“What pack are you from?” he demands.
“I don't have a pack.”
“Damien, really. You could have at least found someone with proper lineage,” Helena interjects, dripping with disdain.
I feel Damien tense beside me, but before he can respond, Bella steps forward. “Mom, don't be such a snob.”
“Come here, girl.”
I hesitate, glancing at Damien whose jaw has tightened to granite. His slight nod gives me permission.
I step forward, my legs trembling slightly as I move away from Damien's protective presence.
“It can’t be…” Hudson leans in close enough that I can feel his breath on my neck. He inhales deeply, his nostrils flaring as he takes in my scent.
“I'll ask you once more. What pack do you belong to?”
“I told you, I don't have a pack,” I repeat.
Hudson doesn’t blink as he steps back, his focus following me like a shadow. Then, to my surprise, he turns toward Damien. The room goes utterly still. Even Helena stills her fidgeting, her polished composure cracking as she studies me with sharp, hungry interest.
“Why do you carry Elena Rosewood’s scent?” Hudson asks.
“That’s impossible,” Helena breathes. She stares as though I’ve sprouted horns. “Elena vanished years ago. She didn’t have children. You must be mistaken.”
“Am I?” Hudson resumes his slow circle around me, every step deliberate. He stops directly in front of me. “Who are you?”
