The Thorne Contract

POV: HALLIE

“I’ll do it.”

The words left Hallie’s mouth before the smarter part of her brain had a chance to tackle them to the ground.

Three heads turned toward the doorway.

Her mother went white.

Her grandfather stopped pretending he was asleep beside the fireplace.

And the man sitting across from them—charcoal suit, silver threaded neatly through dark hair, expression composed enough to make Hallie immediately dislike him—slowly smiled.

Well.

That seemed promising.

Hallie tightened her hand around the old brass doorknob. She’d only come downstairs because voices were carrying through the floorboards. Hartwood was old enough that privacy had never really been part of the architecture. Pipes groaned. Stairs announced every step. Conversations traveled through vents like the house had strong opinions about secrets.

She hadn’t meant to listen.

Then she’d heard lien.

Foreclosure.

Thirty days.

After that, eavesdropping had felt less like a character flaw and more like basic survival.

“Hallie.” Her mother stood so fast the chair scraped against the hardwood. “Go back upstairs.”

“Mom—”

“Now.”

Usually, when Claire Hart used that voice, Hallie listened.

Usually, Gideon Thorne wasn’t sitting in their living room discussing how quickly a bank could take their home.

Hallie stepped inside and closed the door behind her.

“I heard enough.”

Her mother’s gaze shot toward Gideon.

Hallie knew exactly who he was. Everyone did.

The Thornes controlled one of the largest wolf territories in the region, and Gideon had spent most of the last year appearing on television while preparing for his run at First Seat on the Concord Council. He talked a lot about unity between humans and wolves.

Apparently unity also included showing up at eleven at night to negotiate for someone’s daughter.

“You have a daughter,” Gideon said.

Claire shifted slightly in front of her.

Hallie almost rolled her eyes. She was twenty-five, not five.

Then again, she had just volunteered to marry his son.

Maybe Mom had a point.

“Mr. Thorne was leaving,” Claire said.

“I believe your daughter just made me an offer.”

“She didn’t.”

“I’m standing right here.”

“Hallie.”

“No.” Her voice came out sharper than intended, but if she let her mother end this, Hallie knew exactly what tomorrow would look like.

Claire would make coffee. Smile when Evan came downstairs. Remind Grandpa about his medication. Then spend another entire day calling banks and pretending the dark circles beneath her eyes were nothing.

Hallie was done pretending not to notice.

“What exactly are you offering?”

“Nothing,” Claire cut in. “Because we are not doing this.”

Gideon’s pale eyes stayed on Hallie. “Your mother has already heard my proposal.”

“Then I’d like to hear it.”

“Hallie, please.”

That almost did it.

Not the anger.

The please.

Hallie looked at her mother and saw something she hated far more than fear.

Defeat.

Hartwood had belonged to her father’s family for generations. Grandpa cared about the history—the politicians and pack leaders who had once used the inn as neutral ground before the first Concord.

Hallie cared that her father’s handwriting was still penciled inside the pantry door where he’d tracked her height as a kid. She cared that Evan had learned to walk gripping the same staircase railing she had. She cared that her mother had dragged this place through grief, debt and terrible tourist seasons without ever letting them believe they might lose it.

Until now.

“How much?” Hallie asked.

Claire closed her eyes.

“Enough to satisfy every outstanding debt attached to Hartwood,” Gideon said. “The property remains with your family. I would also establish a maintenance fund to keep the inn operational for ten years.”

Hallie’s stomach dropped.

That wasn’t help.

That was rescue.

Which meant the price was going to be monstrous.

“And in exchange?”

“You marry my son.”

Even knowing it was coming, a short laugh escaped her.

Gideon lifted one eyebrow.

“Sorry.” Hallie pressed her lips together. “It’s just not every day someone offers to refinance your childhood in exchange for a husband.”

“Hallie.”

“What? I’m processing.”

“You’re refusing.”

“I didn’t say that.”

Claire grabbed her arm. “Kitchen. Now.”

Gideon didn’t object as her mother pulled her through the adjoining doorway.

Somehow, that was worse.

He was too confident.

The kitchen looked painfully normal. Dirty mugs beside the sink. Evan’s backpack dropped against the island. Grandpa’s pill organizer beside the toaster.

Her mother released her.

“You are not doing this.”

“Then what are we doing?”

“We’ll figure something out.”

“How?”

Claire opened her mouth.

Nothing came out.

“Thirty days, Mom.”

“You heard that?”

“I heard enough.”

“I was handling it.”

“You’ve been handling it for three years.”

Her mother flinched.

Guilt hit immediately.

“I didn’t mean—”

“Yes, you did.” Claire softened. “And you’re right. I have been. Because that’s my job. Not yours.”

“I live here too.”

“You have your own life.”

Hallie nearly laughed.

She worked four days a week at a dental office and spent most of the rest helping at Hartwood because they couldn’t afford another employee. She still slept in the same room she’d had as a teenager.

She wasn’t exactly abandoning a glamorous independent existence.

“I can help.”

“Not like this.”

“You let him come here.”

“Because I thought he wanted to invest in Hartwood. Then he told me what he actually wanted, and I told him to leave.”

Hallie glanced toward the sitting room.

“Why us?”

Her mother hesitated.

That was enough to make Hallie suspicious.

“He’s running for First Seat,” Claire said. “He wants his campaign centered around human-wolf integration.”

Hallie slowly looked toward the old black-and-white photograph hanging beside the kitchen entrance.

Her great-grandmother stood in front of Hartwood between a human governor and a wolf Alpha.

“Oh.”

Claire nodded.

“So he wants a Hart.”

“He wants what Hartwood represents.”

Of course he did.

The Thorne heir marrying a human woman from a family tied to the original Concord.

Unity.

Progress.

Look how far they’d come.

Hallie could practically write the headlines herself.

Then something clicked.

“Wait. His son?”

“Yes.”

“I know there’s a son, but…” She frowned, digging through scraps of old celebrity gossip. “Wasn’t the Thorne heir all over the tabloids years ago?”

Claire shrugged. “I vaguely remember.”

“Parties. Women. Maybe a fight?”

“That describes half the young wolves in tabloids.”

“Fair.”

Hallie tried to picture him and came up with nothing. She’d been a teenager then and considerably more interested in passing chemistry than memorizing rich werewolves.

Then one day, the Thorne son had simply stopped appearing.

“Whatever happened to him?”

“I don’t know.”

“That’s weird, isn’t it? Gideon talks about the Pack constantly. I don’t remember him mentioning his son in years.”

“Another reason you shouldn’t marry him.”

Hallie sighed. “That list is getting concerningly long.”

The question followed her when she returned to the sitting room.

Gideon was exactly where they’d left him.

Hallie sat across from him.

“If I agree, Hartwood stays with my family?”

“Yes.”

“All debts cleared.”

“Yes.”

“You don’t own any part of it.”

“No.”

“And there isn’t some creative little clause where we discover ten years from now that we owe you everything back?”

A faint trace of amusement touched his expression.

“The legal agreement will state exactly what is expected from both parties.”

Both parties.

Great.

“What does your son think about this?”

The amusement disappeared.

Tiny.

But Hallie caught it.Something colder settled behind Gideon’s eyes.

“My son understands his responsibilities.”

That wasn’t an answer.

“Is he still your heir?”

Her mother made a quiet sound behind her that clearly meant maybe stop antagonizing the Alpha.

“He is my only son.”

Again.

Not an answer.

Hallie leaned back. “I only ask because no one’s heard anything about him in years.”

“He has lived privately.”

“Does he know who I am?”

“He knows what he needs to know.”

Somehow that was even worse.

“And he agreed to marry me?”

Gideon’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.

“He will.”

Hallie stared at him.

There was something about those two words she really didn’t like.

“You realize none of this is making me feel better.”

“I am not here to make you feel better, Miss Hart. I am offering your family a solution to a problem that otherwise appears to have none.”

Ouch.

Hallie glanced at Grandpa.

His eyes were open now.

His expression said enough.

Don’t.

Her mother had already said the same thing.

Every sane person in the room appeared to have reached the same conclusion.

Unfortunately, none of them had produced another way to keep the bank from taking Hartwood in thirty days.

“What happens if I say yes?”

“My legal team returns tomorrow. You review the agreement. If you sign it, Hartwood’s debts are settled immediately.”

“And me?”

“You become my son’s wife.”

Her throat tightened.

“So it isn’t temporary.”

“No.”

Of course not.

Hallie rubbed her palms against her thighs.

Marriage.

A real one.

To a man whose own father apparently hadn’t publicly acknowledged him in years.

Excellent.

“Can I meet him before I sign?”

“No.”

Hallie blinked. “Seriously?”

“My son’s presence will not be necessary.”

“You want me to agree to marry a man I haven’t even met.”

“Yes.”

“And apparently I don’t even get a name?”

Gideon stood.

Hallie stared at him.

Was that seriously the end of the discussion?

“You will receive all necessary information if you proceed.”

Necessary information.

She wasn’t buying a refrigerator.

Claire stepped forward. “She isn’t proceeding.”

Gideon buttoned his jacket and reached for his coat.

“My offer remains until tomorrow evening.”

Hallie stood too. “And if I sign?”

“Then you prepare.”

“For what?”

He looked at her.

“The wedding.”

Hallie’s heartbeat stumbled.

“When?”

“Saturday.”

For several seconds, Hallie was convinced she’d misheard him.

Today was Monday.

“You’re joking.”

“I assure you, Miss Hart, I am not.”

Gideon walked toward the front door as though he hadn’t just tossed a grenade into the middle of their living room.

Hallie stared after him.

“Saturday as in five days from now?”

His hand settled on the doorknob.

Then he glanced back at her, pale eyes calm.

“If you sign that contract tomorrow, you marry my son in five days.”