I stare at the documents on my desk as if they personally offended me.
They didn't move.
Figures.
For the Alpha of the largest pack in North America, my life is disturbingly full of paperwork. Treaties. Territory disputes. Budget approvals. Reports from scouts who think "nothing unusual" deserves three pages of explanation.
When I was a kid, I imagined power differently.
I imagined blood on my knuckles, enemies at my feet, my pack howling my name beneath a silver moon. Not this—wood-paneled walls, leather furniture, and an inbox that never empties.
I sink into my chair and scrub a hand down my face, irritation buzzing beneath my skin. My wolf stirs, restless, unimpressed.
You're sulking, he mutters.
I'm working, I shoot back.
A lie. I shove one stack of folders aside and open my email instead.
That's when I see it.
From: Elder Whitmore
Subject: Regarding Seraphina Vale as Your Luna
My jaw tightens.
Delete.
I don't open it. I don't read it. I don't hesitate.
It's the twenty-third message like that this month.
The Elders are persistent, I'll give them that. They dress their demands in concern for pack stability, prosperity, tradition. As if I don't know what they really want.
Control.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, heat flaring in my chest. They forget who I am. Or maybe they're hoping I will.
Last night, Whitmore had the nerve to call me. Told me I was wasting my potential. Told me a strong Alpha needs a Luna at his side. Told me Seraphina Vale was perfect.
I didn't tear his head off. That alone deserves recognition.
Instead, I'd driven forty minutes south, found a bar where no one knew my name, and let two willing she-wolves distract me until the anger dulled.
Which is why I'm here now, staring at unfinished work instead of having slept.
I growl under my breath and reach for the top folder.
Duty waits for no one.
*
A familiar presence brushes the edge of my mind, followed by irritation sharp enough to cut.
You shut me out, my Beta snaps through the link.
I don't bother looking up when he knocks twice and enters anyway.
"I didn't shut the link down," I say calmly. "I shut you out."
Caius Hale clicks his tongue as he steps into my study. He looks infuriatingly well-rested. Mate bond perks.
"I was in the middle of something important," he says.
"I'm sure you were," I reply dryly.
His mouth twitches. "You could at least pretend not to know."
Caius has been my Beta since we were teenagers—my second in command, my shield, and the only man alive who speaks to me like this and keeps his head attached.
"Let me guess," I say. "Another polite request from the Council?"
"Request implies they're asking," he says. "They're done asking."
I finally lift my gaze to him. "Good. So am I."
He exhales slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Ronan—"
"If you say her name, I will make you regret it."
"That persistent, huh?"
"They're all persistent," I snap. "They don't want a Luna. They want a leash."
Caius folds his arms, studying me the way he does when he's trying to decide whether pushing me further will get someone killed. "You can't keep ignoring them. Elders don't like being dismissed."
"They'll survive."
"And the pack?" he presses. "If they unite against us—"
"They won't," I cut in. "They need us too much."
"For now," he counters. "But you've offended more than a few. This isn't about marriage anymore. It's politics."
I lean back in my chair, jaw tight. "So what? I parade another ambitious she-wolf through my bed, insult her afterward, and buy us a few months of silence?"
"That has worked before," he admits.
"Exactly."
He hesitates. That's new.
"This one's different," Caius says finally. "Her name is Elara Wynford."
I snort. "Of course it is."
"She's the daughter of Alpha Marcus. Educated. Well-traveled. Untouched."
"That's not a selling point."
"I know," he sighs. "But Whitmore is backing her hard. If you go, you make him think he's winning. If you don't—"
"I give him ammunition."
"Yes."
Silence stretches between us.
My wolf shifts again, thoughtful this time. Snakes don't strike when you're watching.
I hate when he's right.
"Fine," I mutter. "I'll go."
Caius blinks. "Really?"
"I'll meet her. I'll be polite. I'll leave." I stand, already regretting it. "We're gone five days. No more."
Relief flashes across his face. "I'll make the arrangements."
"Don't sound so pleased," I warn. "This doesn't change anything."
He smiles faintly. "It might."
I glare at him. "Careful."
As he leaves, I glance out the window at the sprawling territory below. Forests, rivers, mountains—everything my parents died to protect.
I won't let anyone use me to claim it.
Whatever trouble this visit brings, I'll handle it.
I always do.