A Deadly Pregnant Contract With The Ruthless Alpha

Lucy's POV

The beeping machines were the only thing keeping me sane at this point.

I stood there by my brother's bedside, watching him lie still, his entire body immobilized. Two years! Two years after this, he was barely even alive.

Many days, I'd wake up wishing this was all just some nightmare.

I reached out to his face and brushed a strand of hair from his forehead. "You promised you'd wake up for my birthday," I whispered. "It's in 10 days, Eli. Please wake up."

I turned to see the hospital door open. Standing with a tray in hand was Nurse Kara, Eli's attendant and my personal friend. She's been helping us ever since the accident.

"Lucy," Nurse Kara's soft voice carried the weight of something heavy. We need to talk."

I followed her outside into the hallway, the white lights reflecting on the mirror walls.

She hesitated for a bit before speaking out. "Lucy... the hospital bills have piled up," she sighed, removing her glasses. "You're four months overdue, and if payment isn't made by the weekend... I'm afraid we'll have to take Eli off life support."

It felt like someone had poured me hot boiling water.

"No," I said, shaking my head. "Kara, the hospital can't do that, "I thought his condition was becoming stable. Please, he needs a little more time."

"Time costs money, Lucy. We've given Eli more than most families ever get."

"Please, just a little longer. I'll figure something out."

Kara hesitated. Her eyes scanned the hallway before leaning in closer.

"Well, there... is one option," she said quietly. "The hospital has recently partnered with The Syndicate for a reproductive program. They're looking for female carriers, in other words, women who'd agree to be injected with a... donor's sperm."

"So the way it works is you carry the child for nine months, and once the baby is born, it goes to its biological owner in quote."

My mouth went dry. "Wait a minute, you mean... like surrogacy?"

"Well, it's a little more complicated than that. These aren't normal donors, Lucy. They're generically mutated." Her voice dropped lower than a whisper... "Werewolves."

My heart nearly pounded out of my chest. "You want me to carry a werewolf's child?"

Never! I want nothing to do with those good-for-nothing ruthless creatures.

It was them who caused the accident...

"But you'd be compensated, though. More than enough to cover Eli's treatments for a full year."

"No," I said, stepping back. "Absolutely not! I'm not selling my body off to grow some monster in me."

Kara's face turned serious. "Then I'm afraid you'll have to start saying goodbye."

"What?"

"You have until the weekend," she said, entering back into Eli's room and shutting the door behind her.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

My watch beeps aloud. I was already running late to work, so I dashed out of the hospital and took a cab.

*******

I worked at Club Kill, a strip club in the city. Only the most powerful Alphas and Mafia bosses come here.

My head spun from the noise, my heels clicking as I pushed through the side entrance.

"Lucy!" Kent, the club owner, called from behind the bar. His shirt was unbuttoned, and he smelled like old cigars. "Tonight's not packed, Lucy. If you want to get paid, you must take personal orders."

I swallowed hard. "C'mon Kent, you know I hate those."

He shrugged. "I'm sorry for your personal taste, but I have a business to run."

As much as I hated personal orders, I couldn't deny that I made money from them.

"Fine, I'll do it," I finally gave in.

"That's the spirit; now you better undress; your regular's already here-Room 39."

"Shit," I cursed beneath my breath.

Vick.

The cold-hearted Alpha who thought money could buy everything. He was the lowest of the low, always watching me like I was fresh meat, barely escaping his hands each time.

Even after swearing that I'd never return to the club again, I couldn't stay away; my brother's life depended on it.

******

Room 39.

I paused before the door, hesitating but adjusting my bra strap before knocking.

"Come in,"I heard his voice say, shivers going down my spine.

I took a deep breath before entering.

Inside, Vick sat on a velvet couch, three half-naked girls wrapped around him like snakes to a kill. His eyes lit up when he saw me.

"There she is," he purred, his voice laced with venom. "My favorite."

I looked away, and my gaze fell on the man beside him.

He was peculiar; he didn't touch any of the girls or even look at them. He sat still, legs crossed, a glass of untouched wine in his right hand.

He was calm, yet something about him made my body tense at the sight.

"Dance," Vick ordered, throwing a wad of cash at my feet. My eyes widened.

Now, that's a lot of money; with that, I could pay Eli's medical bills.

I took a deep breath and stepped onto the small platform before them. The music played, and my hips moved instinctively.

I danced, trying to block out the thoughts of the pain and the humiliation I felt.

It was clear I had nothing else to lose.

Vick's eyes followed my steps. As I moved closer, I felt his stare intensify.

Suddenly, he lunged at me, grabbing my waist and pulling me down onto him.

"Let go of me!" I struggled.

He tried to unhook my bra, grinning. "Don't be shy, baby. You know you want me."

I reached for the wine bottle on the table and smashed it across his head, giving it all I got.

The glass shattered, blood dripping from the side of his head.

He roared, shoving me off as he extended his claws. "You bitch!"

Before he could strike, a hand caught his wrist, pushing him back.

It was the man who sat beside him.

"Don't," he commanded.

Vick growled but obeyed, telling the girls behind him to pick him up his money.

The man looked at me, "Are you alright?"

I yanked my arm away from him. "I didn't ask for your help."

I turned and stormed out of the room.

I just lost my pay!

I found a dark corner near the club's back exit and collapsed against the wall.

My life was a mess.

My sick brother, bills upon bills, a job as a stripper, and I'm sure after tonight, I'll be dead because of the stunt I pulled in there.

Just then, my phone buzzed.

"If you're not here in 5 minutes, I'm tossing your stuff. You're being evicted."

I stared at my screen, it was a text from my landlord.

It was a ten-minute drive from the club to my house. There was no way I would make it in time, but I had to try.

I grabbed a hoodie and put it on, then made a run for it.

Just then, the rain started falling. I was soaking wet, and water was dripping all over, but that didn't stop me.

I decided to take a shortcut around the old abandoned warehouse.

It was a bad idea.

Two men stepped out of the shadows as if waiting for me.

"Vick sends his regards," one of them sneered.

I was screwed.

I tried to run, but the other blocked my exit.

One of them tugged on my hoodie, the other holding me in place, they ripped open my clothes, my breasts hanging out.

Next thing I knew, I was against a wall, my bra unclipped, "Me first." The first one smiled.

"Please..." I pleaded, tears running down my cheeks, the heavy rain masking my screams.

It was no use; they pulled down my panties.

Killing me would have been better.

Ryker's POV

Immediately Lucy stormed out of the room, something shifted in me. I couldn't explain my wolf smell luring me to her, but I tried to compose myself and suppressed the feeling. I hadn't planned on interfering with Vick's business; I was just there to observe because Vick had been bragging about the new girl who danced like sin and burned like fire, and out of sheer boredom, I joined him. But the second I looked at her, I knew she was different from the other strippers.

And t..that spark in her eyes when she picked the bottle and smashed it over Vick's skull... that wasn't fear... that was fury. My wolf sneer and fury? Is my favorite thing to tame.

I left the room before things could escalate. I didn't want to be dragged into Vick's drama, not when I had more significant problems on my plate... like the Council breathing down my neck about the Syndicate's bloodline program. They wanted results; my heirs, of course, my offspring. The whole damn package just to be seen worthy of the fu..king inheritance.

I quickly took the elevator, but even as I left Club Kill and stepped into the rain, I couldn't get her face out of my head. That pain in her eyes... that desperation... she was on the edge of something dangerous or scary. My wolf was restless, trying to take full control, but I continued to suppress it.

I left my luxury car in the pack lodge and took a short corner toward the lonely road where I could peacefully smoke without anyone watching me or taking numerous pictures. Just immediately after I turned toward the alley by the warehouse, I heard it-a scream and a shadow moving fast. I followed the sound-quietly and calculatively. Years of training to fit in with the most powerful and ruthless Alpha had taught me how to kill a man in silence.

But I didn't think I needed to, smelling the presence of a powerless gang. When I reached them, I waited for a second and watched from the shadows, a cigarette burning slowly between my fingers as the two lowlifes surrounded Lucy. My instincts flared when one of them yanked her hoodie down and shoved her against the wall.

I didn't move at first, my wolf furious within. I tried to remain calm, but then I saw the terror in her eyes-real, raw, paralyzing fear-the kind that made your soul scream even if your mouth stayed shut.

"Get off me," she screamed. She kept dragging with the bastards who were already on her and the other one who had his pants halfway down, waiting for his turn.

I tossed the cigarette to the ground and stepped forward. I didn't hesitate anymore.

"Get your filthy hands off her. You bastards"

My voice didn't need to be loud. It cut through the rain like a bullet.

Both men froze, one mid-motion, the other shaking as he released his tight grip on her wrist. They turned their heads slowly toward me, and when they recognized who was speaking, the blood drained from their faces.

"Alpha Ryker-"

"Did I stammered?" I growled.

The taller one tried to back away. "We didn't know-Vick told us-"

I was on them before they could finish. I moved like a shadow, fast and lethal. My claws ripped through the first guy's back, blood spraying like mist. One punch to the jaw cracked bone. The other screamed and turned to run, but I grabbed him by the neck and slammed him against the brick wall.

"You think you can touch any girl you see around?"

He choked for air, his eyes bulging. "We didn't know she was yours-please!" Let us go; we won't dare it again...

I released my grip, and he crumpled to the wet ground, trying to escape.

"Listen...you bastard" any word to Vick that I was here...you're dead...he nodded and disappeared into the dark corner of the warehouse.

She bowed to her knees, holding the remnants of her torn clothes to her chest. Lucy's eyes were glued to mine, widely opened, and she looked afraid. She was shaking frightfully.

Just then, I grabbed my coat and flung it over her, wrapping it closely around her quivering body. "You're safe," I said, trying to steady my voice. "It's all over now."

"Are you hurt?" My voice came out lower now. I was controlling but calm, though every part of me was boiling inside.

She didn't speak. But shook her head, hugging the coat tight around herself frightfully.

I bent to help her up, but she pulled back.

"Don't touch me," she said, her voice trembling and her hands shaking.

"I just saved your damn life." y..you..

"I didn't ask you to!" she snapped, sobbing. She buried her face in her hands. "Why is this happening to me?" Then she looked up at me, eyes wide with disbelief. "Why?" she whispered. "Why would you help me?"

"You may not recognize me," I said, pulling her up gently into my arms. "But I remember you."

Her brows furrowed, confusion flooding her battered expression. She passed out in my arms before she could ask what I meant.

I stared into her pretty, innocent face. Watching her close, bulging eyes was so calm and trusting. But I was surprised she didn't feel my presence that night; that meant she didn't know the truth yet. Since she didn't remember the night I watched her dance barefoot on a rooftop in the rain years ago, humming a lullaby to her little brother, that memory had haunted me longer than I cared to admit.

I never forgot her, nor did I forget her face. Yes, I returned to that rooftop day after day in search of her but couldn't find anyone in the house.

Rumors had it that the house occupant traveled with the entire family. Since I didn't get her name, it was difficult to look for her, not until she stepped into that room. I tried to control my wolf and pretend like I didn't recognize her just not to get into Vick's business. I knew I was going to come back to Club Kill to get details about her, but now... she was in my hands, and I was going to make her mine.

Ryker's POV

Leaning against the doorframe of Room 39, I watched the aftermath unfold. The cheap, cloying scent of perfume and spilled liquor hung in the air, underscored by the sharp tang of blood. Vick stood there, a tissue pressed to the side of his head, his face a contorted mask of fury as he glared into the hallway where the girl had fled.

Pathetic, I thought. A pack Alpha, brought low by a single, desperate woman with a bottle.

I'd observed the entire encounter from a shadowed alcove, drawn by the commotion. It was a sordid little scene, but within it, I'd seen something unexpected. Not in Vick, whose predictable rage was as dull as it was volatile. But in her. The way she'd moved, the fire in her eyes before it fractured into fear. It wasn't the performance of a seasoned stripper; it was the raw, untamed reflex of a cornered animal.

Vick muttered darkly to himself, wiping blood with a shaky hand before stalking out. He moved like a thug through his own club, all bluster and wounded pride. I let him pass, a ghost in the gaudy darkness of Club Kill. My interest had already shifted, its focus narrowing with lethal precision.

For months, Vick had been a useful, if grating, associate-a blunt instrument in a city of scalpels. But now, he was compromised. His petty vendetta was a distraction, a messy variable. And I dealt in control.

I already knew more than Vick could possibly imagine. The dossier on my tablet wasn't about a stripper. It was about Lucia Castellano, the last surviving heir to a fortune buried under layers of legal obfuscation and tragedy. She was hiding in plain sight, a diamond covered in the grime of this pathetic underworld. And she had no idea.

My phone vibrated silently in my pocket. A brief, coded text confirmed she'd taken the bait, using the back exit. Vick's men, like obedient dogs, would give her a scare. It served my purpose-to soften her, to make her world feel even more unstable. But they'd been given strict parameters. The asset was not to be damaged.

An hour later, I stood before the polished oak of Vick's suite door. I could hear the restless pacing inside, the clink of a glass. He was waiting for his validation call, his pathetic hit of power. I didn't knock so much as let my presence announce itself. The pacing stopped.

When he opened the door, his attempt to mask his agitation was laughable. The swelling on his temple, the wild look in his eyes-he was a boy playing at being a king.

"Can I come in?" I asked, the question a formality that was anything but.

He stammered an affirmation, scrambling aside. The room smelled of cheap cologne and cheaper ambition.

I poured myself a drink from his bar, the rich amber of the whiskey a stark contrast to the room's tawdriness. I let the silence stretch, feeling his anxiety spike. He was so easy to read.

"Are you sure everything is alright?" I finally asked, watching him over the rim of my glass.

He nodded, a jerky, bird-like motion. He was lying, of course. But his lies were irrelevant.

"Lucy," I said, letting the name hang in the air. It had the desired effect. He froze, his knuckles whitening around his glass. "That's her name?"

"What about her?" he deflected, trying for nonchalance and failing miserably.

"She's interesting."

His brow furrowed, confusion battling with possessiveness. "She's just a stripper."

I allowed a low chuckle. "Is that what you think?" I took a slow sip, watching the gears turn-or rather, grind-in his head. "I've seen her file. She's not poor, Vick. She's an heiress. The last living Castellano."

The glass in his hand jerked. Whiskey sloshed over the side, staining his cuff. The shock on his face was pure, undiluted. It was almost satisfying. "You said what?"

"Hidden in plain sight," I confirmed, my voice calm. "Smart move. She came here thinking she was invisible."

His mind was racing, I could see it. The calculation, the sudden, terrified reevaluation of his petty revenge. Lucy was no longer a toy to break; she was a prize he'd almost shattered.

"She doesn't even know I've found out yet," I continued, moving closer. My gaze pinned him. "And that's why I'm here. I need her."

His eyes narrowed. "For the program?" The surrogate program. My legacy required certain... arrangements. Genetic excellence was paramount.

"Among other things," I said, giving a slow, deliberate smile. "As my surrogate, she'll be mine for the next nine months."

He laughed then, a bitter, hollow sound. "Good luck with that. She's not exactly cooperative."

"She will be." My tone left no room for doubt. "Especially once she understands the alternative. I'm prepared to clear her brother's medical debts. In full."

The silence this time was absolute, thick with his dawning realization. I was not just stepping in; I was rewriting the entire game board with a single stroke.

"What?" he hissed, the word barely audible.

"I'll have her sign the contract quickly. The moment she realizes her body is the currency that buys her brother's life, refusal becomes a luxury she can't afford."

His jaw clenched, fists curling at his sides. He was fighting the urge to snarl, to lash out. But he knew better. "She'll fight it," he insisted, a last, weak protest.

"Of course," I said, finishing my drink and setting the glass down with a soft, final click. "That's the fun part."

I watched the conflict rage behind his eyes. Possession, rage, and a sliver of cunning. He was thinking of ways to undermine me, to turn this to his advantage. He might even be foolish enough to try.

"You're sure she doesn't know?" he asked, a new, scheming tone seeping into his voice.

"Not yet," I confirmed. "And I intend to keep it that way. Knowledge is power. If she knew, she'd run. We both know she has a bite." I fixed him with a look that was both a directive and a threat. "Your role is simple. Keep an eye on her. But don't touch." I let the warning settle deep, a cold weight in the room's warmth. "Is that clear?"

He nodded, the motion tight. The resentment poured off him in waves, but it was shackled by fear. Good.

I left him then, standing amidst the ruins of his own plot, already working on a new, more treacherous one. It didn't matter. He was a minor piece now.

In the quiet hallway, the hum of the club felt distant. The picture was crystal clear. Lucy Castellano was no longer a stripper, or even just an heiress. She was the solution to a dynastic equation, a vessel of superior bloodline, and a fascinating puzzle of defiance. Vick saw a threat and a pawn.

He wasn't entirely wrong.

But he failed to see the most important truth: she was now mine. And I always took care of what belonged to me.