Elena POV:
The conference room was cold, kept at a precise sixty-five degrees. It was designed to make people uncomfortable. To keep them on edge.
I sat at the head of the long mahogany table, my back to the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the Manhattan skyline. My scent was masked, dialed down to a whisper, just enough to be polite but not enough to reveal my rank.
"They are here, Ms. Sterling," my assistant said through the intercom.
"Send them in," I replied.
The double doors opened.
Two security guards escorted a small group of men inside. At the front was Damien Blackwood.
I hadn't seen him in person for a year. The last time I saw him, he was standing outside a silver cage, condemning me to death. Now, he looked like a ghost of his former self.
His suit was expensive but wrinkled. His hair, usually gelled back in perfect order, was messy. There were dark circles under his eyes that spoke of sleepless nights.
He walked with a slump, the arrogance of an Alpha replaced by the desperation of a debtor.
He didn't see me at first. I was just a silhouette against the bright window.
He took a seat at the far end of the table, wringing his hands.
"We appreciate the meeting," Damien said, his voice hoarse. "We just need an extension. Sterling Global holds all our debt. If you foreclose now, the Blackwood Pack ceases to exist. We have families. Pups."
Pups.
The word made my blood run cold. He dared to talk about pups to me?
I stood up.
As I moved, I let my control slip. Just a fraction. I released the scent I had been hiding.
Rain. Dark chocolate. And the overwhelming, freezing chill of the Arctic winter.
Damien froze mid-sentence.
His head snapped up. His nostrils flared.
The recognition hit him like a physical blow. I saw his pupils dilate, swallowing the irises. His hands gripped the edge of the table so hard the wood creaked.
"Elena?" he whispered.
It was a sound of pure disbelief. Then, pure joy.
He scrambled out of his chair, knocking it over.
"Elena! You're alive!"
He rushed toward me, arms open, tears instantly welling in his eyes. "I knew it! I knew the body was fake! I felt it!"
Two of my personal bodyguards, elite Alpha wolves trained in the frozen north, stepped in front of him. They didn't need to shift. They just crossed their massive arms.
Damien slammed into them.
"Get out of my way!" he roared, his eyes flashing red. "That is my Mate!"
"Sit down, Mr. Blackwood," I said.
My voice wasn't loud. But it carried the weight of a glacier.
Damien stopped fighting. He looked over the shoulder of the bodyguard, staring at me. He looked hungry. Desperate.
"Elena, baby, please," he panted. "Come home. I've been looking everywhere for you. I was wrong. I was so wrong."
I walked around the table, signaling the guards to let him pass. I wanted him close. I wanted him to smell the power he had thrown away.
"You were wrong about what, Damien?" I asked smoothly.
"Everything!" He tried to grab my hand, but I stepped back. "I should have listened to the bond. I'll fix it. Come back to the pack. I'll make you Luna. Publicly. The official ceremony."
He looked at me with wide, hopeful eyes.
"And the child?" I asked.
Damien hesitated. "We... we can try again. Or we can adopt. Victoria's son... he needs a mother figure. You could raise him. It would be good for your reputation to show mercy."
The audacity took my breath away.
He wanted me to raise the child of the woman who poisoned me. He wanted me to mother the son who lived while mine died.
I laughed. It was a dry, humorless sound.
"You think I want your charity?" I asked. "You think I want to be a mother to that mongrel?"
"Don't call him that," Damien said instinctively, then caught himself. "Elena, please. I am offering you everything. The Luna title. My heart."
"Your heart is rotten, Damien," I said. "And your offer is worthless."
I picked up a remote control from the table and pointed it at the large screen on the wall.
"You want to talk about children? Let's listen to something."
I pressed play.
The audio was crisp. It was the recording from the hospital hallway, recovered by my father's intelligence team.
*Stop bothering me with her drama,* Damien's voice echoed in the silent conference room. *She's a wolf. She'll heal. Save the power for Victoria.*
Damien's face went pale. He staggered back as if slapped.
"And this," I said, changing the slide.
A document appeared on the screen. A death certificate.
*Name: Unnamed Infant Male.*
*Father: Damien Blackwood.*
*Mother: Elena Sterling.*
*Cause of Death: Silver Poisoning in Utero.*
"He didn't die because he was weak, Damien," I said, my voice trembling with suppressed rage. "He died because his father ordered his mother to hold him inside a silver cage while he suffocated."
"No," Damien whispered. He covered his ears. "No, that's not... I didn't know..."
"Ignorance is not a defense!" I shouted, slamming my hand on the table. "You killed him! You chose a lie over your own flesh and blood!"
The executives from his pack looked down in shame. They knew. Everyone knew.
Damien looked up at me, tears streaming down his face. But then, something shifted in his eyes. The denial kicked in. The arrogance returned, a shield against his guilt.
"I am the Alpha!" he growled, his voice vibrating in his chest. "I made a mistake, but I am here now! You belong to me! The Moon Goddess decreed it!"
He lunged.
He didn't care about the bodyguards. His inner wolf was frantic, needing to touch me, to claim me, to fix the broken bond with physical contact.
"You are coming with me!" he yelled, reaching for my arm.
I didn't flinch. I didn't move.
"Touch me," I said coldly, "and you lose the hand."
"You are a Rogue!" he spat, losing control. "You are my bitch! You don't get to say no to an Alpha!"
"I am not a Rogue, you idiot," I said, looking down at him with pure disgust. "And you are not an Alpha here. Here, you are just a beggar."
