Desired By Three Alphas; Fated To One

Hailee's POV

My brow furrowed. "Another way?" I asked, my voice trembling.

Nathan nodded once. "Yes… another way. You have to pay me back." His tone was flat, cold, as if every word was carved from ice. He leaned back in his chair, stretching out, his eyes never leaving mine.

I stood there in front of him, my knees weak, my chest burning. My heart broke all over again—but what was I expecting? That he would pull me into his arms after everything? That he would tell me he missed me, that he still loved me, that he still wanted me? Fool. I was a fool.

Instead, he sat there like a stranger. Like a man who wanted nothing but repayment.

I lowered my gaze, biting the inside of my cheek, forcing myself not to cry. He wanted me to pay him back, and I wondered how.

My brow furrowed deeper. "Which other way?" I asked, barely above a whisper.

Nathan's gaze sharpened, his glare fixed on me. "You'll work in my packhouse as staff. Domestic staff."

My stomach dropped. The words slammed into me harder than any blow.

He leaned forward, his merciless eyes on me. "Every month, five thousand dollars will be deducted from what you owe. Do the math, Hailee. Three million dollars… at five thousand a month."

My lips parted, my breath stalling. My mind tried to keep up, but it hit me like thunder when I realized— "That's…" My voice cracked. "That's six hundred months… fifty years."

Nathan didn't blink. "Exactly."

I staggered back, my hand flying to my chest. Fifty years. A lifetime. Tears blurred my vision as I stared back at Nathan. Fifty years. A lifetime. Was he serious? Would he really keep me as nothing more than a servant, chained by debt until I grew old and gray?

My lips trembled, my heart aching more. "O-okay…" I whispered. "If that's what it takes… I'll do it."

For a moment, a tense silence hung in the air. His eyes narrowed, like he was expecting me to say something else. Then, in a blur, he was on his feet.

Before I could move, his hand shot out and wrapped around my neck. My breath hitched as his grip pressed firmly—not enough to choke, but enough to remind me of his strength. His face loomed close, his eyes blazing with rage.

"So you won't beg for my mercy?" he growled, his voice full of fury. "You'll just take the order I give you, like some obedient slave?"

I gulped hard but didn't say a word. My eyes fixed on his as he tightened his hand around my neck. He shook his head. "You are not my Hailee," he spat, his lips trembling. He was right... the Hailee he knew years ago was no longer here.

He released me with brutal force, making me stumble backward. My hands flew to my neck as I rubbed it, staring at Nathan while he sat back down calmly on the couch. I swallowed hard, putting myself together before I spoke. "My sons... what about them... what becomes of them?"

Nathan didn't answer right away. His jaw clenched, as if he were chewing the words before letting them go. At last he looked at me, his eyes cold, unreadable. "I'll think about what to do with them," he said.

Fear and panic gripped me and without thinking about it I dropped to my knees in front of him. "Please," I begged, putting my palms together in front of me. "Please, Alpha Nathan. Don't separate them from me. Do whatever you want to me—punish me, lock me up, make me work—but please don't take them. Let them stay with me."

My hands shook. Tears gathered in my eyes. "You can take everything from me," I whispered, "but don't take them. Please. Let your anger fall on me, not on their heads."

For a heartbeat nothing moved. The alpha's face was a mask of stone, shadowed, impossible to read. Then, impossibly, something in the hard line of his mouth softened, and he shrugged. "They will be with you for now until I figure out what to do with them." He picked up a cigarette as if it were the most natural thing in the world and brought it to his lips.

I frowned automatically. Nathan knew how much I hated him smoking. Once, years ago, I would have snatched it from his fingers, slapped it from his mouth, forced him not to smoke—but now I have lost that right.

He struck a match and lit it. The flame winked, then the tip glowed, and when he inhaled the smoke his whole face changed: the tension in his jaw eased for a second, the hard edge around his eyes softened. He exhaled slowly, the smoke curling up in a lazy ribbon that smelled like travel and iron and winter. It made my stomach flip.

Nathan's eyes flicked to me through the haze of smoke. He must have noticed the way my face tightened. "Still hate it?" he asked suddenly, his brow raised.

My chest squeezed. He remembered. After all these years, he remembered that small thing about me.

I didn't answer. I couldn't trust my voice.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, the cigarette balanced between his fingers. "Say it," he pressed. "Say what you're thinking."

My lips parted, but no sound came. He wanted me to fight him, wanted me to spit out the words that used to come so easily. Nathan, don't smoke. Nathan, stop killing yourself with that poison. But those words belonged to another Hailee—his Hailee. And she was gone.

"I have nothing to say," I whispered instead, lowering my gaze.

In an instant he was in front of me, his hand grabbing my chin and yanking my face upward. His green eyes burned down into mine, sharp enough to pierce right through me. Smoke drifted from his lips and wrapped around me like a chain.

"Nothing to say?" His voice dropped, deep and angry. "Ten years, Hailee. Ten years of silence. And now, when I stand right in front of you, this is all you can give me?" His grip tightened on my chin until it ached. "No excuses. No begging. No truth."

My heart hammered painfully. His anger wasn't just about me lying. It was about everything I'd taken from him—my love, my feelings, our bond.

I forced myself to breathe. "What do you want me to say, Nathan?" My voice cracked. "That I'm sorry? That I regret leaving? That I regret everything? Would that satisfy you?"

He didn't answer. His eyes dropped to my lips for a second before darting away, his jaw flexing, his wolf snarling under his skin.

And then—he shoved away from me, as if touching me burned him. He crushed the cigarette into the ashtray with brutal force.

"You'll work," he said flatly, his back turned to me now. "You'll pay me back. That's all there is between us. Nothing more."

But I saw it. The tremor in his hand. The way his shoulders rose and fell too quickly. He was lying—to me, and maybe to himself.