Claimed as the Ruthless Alpha's Fake Luna

Seraphina POV:

My hand clenched before I could stop it. I gave no answer.

"Your name." He said it softly, like a request — and like a command.

My chin lifted instinctively. After the night I'd had, I was fresh out of obedience. "And why should I tell you?" I countered, my voice laced with ice.

A flicker of surprise crossed his face, quickly replaced by dark amusement. "Because I am the man whose bed you shared last night. And because you are my Mate." He said the word 'Mate' like it was an irrefutable fact of physics, a law of the universe that our kind lived by.

The events of last night were a raw wound, and his casual mention of it made me flinch. "That was a mistake," I said through gritted teeth.

"It was destiny," he corrected, his voice a low growl. "And your presence... it helps me." He didn't elaborate, but I knew he meant the curse, the agony I had witnessed.

The door to the penthouse opened and an elegant, silver-haired woman with sharp blue eyes walked in. She radiated an authority that rivaled Damien's. She was followed by a younger man in a sharp suit who looked like a calmer version of Damien.

The woman didn't look at the man beside me. She walked straight up to me, her eyes scanning me from head to toe. For a long moment, she said nothing. Then, slowly, she spoke. "So the rumors are true—the Foster daughter who publicly ground the Price family's dignity into the dirt at her own engagement banquet."

The corner of her mouth curved into a satisfied smile. "Very much like me when I was young."

"Grandmother." Damien's voice dropped low.

She raised a hand, cutting him off, her gaze never leaving me. "Until last night, no one knew he would survive it. But you didn't just keep him alive—you kept him breathing until dawn." She paused, and something else entered her tone—almost a test. "Tell me, child. Are you willing to become this pack's salvation?"

I met her gaze and did not lower my head as she had expected. "My name is not Salvation. My name is Seraphina Foster. If you need me, you'd better first tell me—why me."

My bluntness made her pupils contract slightly. Then, surprise turned into genuine interest. She laughed, low. "Found an eagle in a phoenix nest." She turned to Damien, her voice dropping but still firm. "You will claim her. Mark her. The stability of the pack—your life—depends on it."

Damien's jaw tightened. I saw the conflict in his eyes with my own—the primal pull of the mate bond warring against something deeply rooted in resistance. "I'll handle it, Grandmother."

Victoria didn't argue. But she turned back and gave me a long, knowing look. "Child, I trust you this far because you understand something better than anyone in this room: what you need is far more than the title of a 'husband's pack.'" Then she left, that young man trailing behind her, unhurried.

The door closed. Silence flooded the room at once.

I slowly pieced the board together. I saw my opening. He was under pressure. His curse made him need me. For the first time since I walked into that ballroom last night, I held leverage—and the one who'd handed me a third of it was his grandmother.

My mind, sharpened by a lifetime of navigating my family's politics, worked furiously. Revenge on Hayden required power. Reclaiming my mother's legacy required resources. This tormented Alpha was offering both on a silver platter. I am not a victim to be claimed. I am a player in this game.

I broke the silence. "You want me. Your grandmother wants you to claim me. You need me to soothe whatever hell you're living in." I listed the facts coldly.

He watched me, his expression unreadable but intense. "State your point."

I took a deep breath, my heart pounding with the audacity of my own plan. "I won't be claimed like property. I won't be marked like a prize."

"I will, however, consider a Mating," I said, my voice steady. "On my terms."

His eyebrows raised in genuine surprise. A slow, dangerous smile touched his lips. "You're in no position to make demands."

"Am I not?" I challenged. "You need a Mate to satisfy your pack, and a remedy for your curse. I am both. That makes my position very strong."

"I propose a contract," I said, the words tasting of victory. "A contractual Mating." A purely transactional bond was almost unheard of, a modern perversion of a sacred tradition, but it was my only play.

"You get a Luna to parade in front of your Pack and a... personal pain reliever. We maintain a public facade of a Mated pair."

"And what do you get, little wolf?" he asked, his voice a purr that sent shivers down my spine. He thought he knew the answer. Money. Status.

"First," I said, holding up a finger, "The Sinclair Pack will use its full commercial power to crush the Price Pack's primary holdings. I want Hayden Price and his family ruined."

Second, I needed to recover certain lost family heirlooms.

That was the real prize, but I didn't say it out loud.

He scrutinized me, his cold eyes searching for something. I met his gaze without flinching, exuding an air of carefully calculated greed.

I could see the moment he reached his conclusion. The corner of his mouth curled into a cynical, mocking smile. He saw me as a shallow, vengeful, money-grubbing opportunist. Perfect.

"You want revenge," he said, his voice dripping with obvious contempt. "A steep price for a moment of peace."

He was underestimating me. He thought my ambition was that small. This misunderstanding was my shield.

"Is that a yes, Alpha?" I pressed, using his title to remind him of the power I was bargaining for.

He stalked closer, invading my personal space again. He leaned down, his lips brushing my ear. "You have no idea what you're asking for," he whispered. The brief contact sent a jolt through me.

"I'm a fast learner," I whispered back, refusing to show fear.

He pulled back, a final, assessing look in his eyes. "Have your lawyer contact my legal team. We'll draw up the contract."

He turned away, dismissing me.

"And my name," I said to his back, a final act of defiance. "Is Seraphina Foster."