The Crippled Alpha's Secret Stand-In Mate

Alisa POV:

"Get out of the car, Alisa. Don't make me repeat myself," Antwon Gordon said, his voice cold as he slammed the door of the black Maybach.

I pushed my door open and stepped out. A freezing wind carrying the sharp scent of cedar and motor oil hit my face. Ahead of me stood the main residence of the Gordon Pack, a massive stone mansion that looked like a medieval fortress.

Antwon didn't look back at me. As a senior executive of the Gordon wolf pack, he walked straight up the marble steps, the gold signet ring on his finger glinting faintly under the streetlights. Yesterday he had taken me in from a impoverished border territory-not out of kindness, but because he needed a pawn to marry in place of his own biological daughter, Jayde Gordon, a pawn that could be discarded at any moment.

I picked up my faded canvas bag. The jagged scar running across my chest throbbed with a dull ache against my ribs. Keep a blank face, I followed him up the steps.

Two guards pushed open the heavy oak doors. The glare of the crystal chandelier made me squint, and the thick, suffocating pressure of high-ranking werewolves filled the foyer. In werewolf society, genetics dictated everything from the moment of birth, and those at the top made sure the air itself reminded you of your place.

A maid in a crisp uniform hurried forward. It was Tessa. She took Antwon's tailored coat with a bow, then turned her gaze on me like a radar.

She twitched her nose and her eyes filled with open disgust.

"Mr. Antwon, is this the girl you brought back from the border?" Tessa asked.

She covered her nose with her hand and took half a step back.

"She doesn't have a single trace of an inner wolf's scent on her. She's completely wolfless. In our world, a genetic defect who can't shift or access the pack mind-link smells worse than a rat in a sewer."

Antwon frowned and pulled a wet wipe from his pocket, scrubbing his hands as if sharing the car with me had dirtied his skin.

"Watch your mouth, Tessa. Take her to the guest room at the end of the second-floor hallway, and make sure she doesn't wander around."

He turned his head toward me, his gaze dripping with condescension.

"Alisa, the Gordon Pack is a billion-dollar enterprise, and we don't feed freeloaders. Stay in your room and behave. I have an important arrangement for you in a few days."

I didn't even lift my eyelids.

"Fine."

Antwon's jaw tightened at my flat tone. He let out a cold snort and walked up the grand staircase.

As soon as the master was out of sight, Tessa dropped her polite posture and sneered at me.

"Follow me, you gene-less trash. Don't get your dirty shoes on the Persian rug."

I said nothing, following her up the service stairs as the wooden steps creaked under our feet. The room at the very end of the second-floor hallway was cramped and damp, with a narrow window that could only be pushed open an inch.

Tessa tossed a brass key onto the narrow single bed.

"Dinner time is over. Pack rules state we don't save leftovers for strays, so you can starve tonight."

She glared at me, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Don't think being adopted means you're a real Gordon now. You're just a scapegoat brought here to take someone else's place."

"Shut up," I said, my voice completely flat.

Tessa froze, her mouth parting in shock as if she couldn't believe a wolfless girl dared to talk back to an Omega servant. She gritted her teeth, her face flushing red.

"You just wait!"

She slammed the door shut so hard the walls shook.

Silence returned to the small room. I walked over, turned the deadbolt, and threw my canvas bag onto the bed. Unzipping the main compartment, I reached into the false bottom and pulled out a heavily modified, custom red terminal.

I pressed my thumb to the sensor. The screen lit up, and cascading green code flooded the display as I connected to the encrypted interface of the Apex Network, the cross-pack dark web.

A soft chime sounded. My exclusive ID, Cipher V, blinked in the top right corner as the supreme administrator. Dozens of encrypted emails sat in my inbox, with a high-bounty intrusion commission pinned at the very top.

I yawned and rubbed my stinging eyes as a wave of narcoleptic drowsiness washed over my brain.

"Make it short," I murmured to myself, resting my fingers on the keys.

I hit the enter key and launched my decryption sequence. Instantly, the target's top-tier corporate firewall flashed a red alert, attempting to back-trace my IP address. My fingers flew across the keyboard, injecting a ghost protocol in three seconds flat that bypassed their core defense.

The screen turned green. A system notification confirmed that the fifty-thousand-star-coin bounty had been wired to my offshore anonymous account.

I closed the red terminal and shoved it under the thin pillow. My stomach cramped with a quiet growl. Closing my eyes, I decided to sleep for an hour before heading down to the kitchen to find food.

Just then, the terminal vibrated under my pillow. I pulled it out and saw a direct message from Nightshade, the number-one ranked hacker on the leaderboard.

"You arrived?"