Chapter 3

By morning, every pack in the territory knew.

I didn't know how—Elias suspected a guard—but by dawn, the story was everywhere: The lost Thornwood heir has returned. The Alpha King's granddaughter was living as a wolfless reject in the Ironmaw Pack.

My phone, once I turned it back on, had eighty-nine missed calls. Thirty-one were from Drake.

I ignored every one.

Elias had arranged a meeting with the Pack Council at noon—the governing body of all five packs, twelve senior Alphas and elders who oversaw succession, territory disputes, and law. Maren, my grandfather's legal advisor, prepped me beforehand.

"Fenris will challenge your claim immediately," Maren warned. "He's spent twenty years stacking the Council with loyalists. Half of them owe him favors or fear his teeth. He'll call you wolfless, illegitimate, unfit."

"I ran an entire pack house for three years while my Alpha cheated on me and his mother tried to break me," I said flatly. "I'm not unfit. I've just been underestimated."

Maren smiled. "Hold onto that."

The Council chamber was ancient stone, carved deep beneath the estate. Twelve seats ringed a circular table scarred by centuries of claw marks. At the head sat Fenris Thornwood.

Broad-shouldered, iron-jawed, silver at his temples. A wolf who wore power like a second skin. Beside him sat Cain, his son—all sharp angles and lazy arrogance.

When I walked in, every wolf went still.

Fenris spoke first. "So. The lost pup finally wanders home." He leaned back, eyes glinting amber. "You seem confused, girl. This is a war council, not a kitchen."

A few elders chuckled.

I didn't flinch. I pulled out a chair, sat, and opened my file.

"I'm Sera Thornwood, granddaughter of Alpha King Alaric Thornwood and named heir to the Alpha Crown. I'm here to present my claim and request a full audit of all pack tributes for the past five years."

Fenris' smile sharpened. "Alaric is dying. He's been compromised for months. Any decree he signed is invalid."

"Then challenge it formally." I slid a copy of the succession decree across the stone table. "But know this decree was witnessed by three sovereign Alphas, sealed under blood oath, and accompanied by a healer's assessment confirming my grandfather's full lucidity."

Fenris' jaw tightened.

"Furthermore," I continued, "in the past eighteen months, approximately twelve million in resources and territory payments were diverted from the five packs into private holdings registered under your name. Shell territories. Ghost packs that exist only on paper."

Dead silence.

Fenris stared at me. The color drained from his face, then flooded back crimson.

"Lies," he snarled. "Fabrications."

"It's in the ledgers." I placed three pages on the table—copies from the vault. "Shall I continue?"

An elder named Aldric spoke from the far end. "If these numbers are accurate, the audit must proceed."

"They are not—"

"Then an audit will clear your name," I said simply. "Unless you have something to hide."

Fenris shoved back from the table and stormed out. Cain scrambled after him. The stone door slammed hard enough to echo through the mountain.

I looked at the remaining Council.

"The audit," Aldric said. "Proceed."

I nodded.

In the corridor, my phone buzzed. Drake. A voicemail.

"Sera, what the hell? Thornwood? Call me. Now."

The cold authority in his voice was gone. Replaced by panic.

I deleted it and kept walking.

Elias fell into step beside me. "Fenris made three calls. One to his enforcer. One to a Council elder. And one to Drake Voss."

I stopped. "Drake?"

"Ironmaw has a pending territory expansion—two hundred thousand acres of prime hunting ground. Fenris has been fast-tracking approval in exchange for Drake's unconditional loyalty."

My mate hadn't just rejected me. He'd been allied with the wolf who'd tried to murder me in my crib.

"That territory request," I said. "Freeze it."