Haley's POV:
The Packhouse was dead silent.
Normally, this place was loud and chaotic. Young wolves sparring in the yard, Omegas clattering plates in the kitchen, fifty werewolves living under one roof creating a constant, low thrum of energy.
But most of the high-ranking members had gone to the summit, and the rest were out on patrol.
I walked through the grand foyer. My heels clicked sharply against the marble floors. I had paid to import these from Italy because Cornelia claimed the old hardwood hurt her sensitive feet.
I stepped into the kitchen. The staff, mostly low-ranking Omegas who couldn't shift, looked up in sheer terror. They were eating scraps-minced meat and dry bread.
"Where is the roast?" I asked, looking at the empty counters.
"Madam Cornelia took the best cuts of meat to her room before heading to the airport," a young girl named Sarah whispered. "She said... she said the servants didn't deserve Wagyu."
I closed my eyes. I had specifically bought that beef for tonight's staff appreciation dinner.
My phone vibrated. It was a video call request from Jackson.
I accepted it.
Jackson's face filled the screen. He was flushed and looked furious. The background noise was the chaotic buzz of an airport terminal.
"Why is my card declining?!" he yelled. People in the background turned to look. "We landed in Kansas to refuel, and the pilot said the fuel account is frozen!"
"Is it?" I asked, picking up an apple and examining it closely. "What a shame."
"Haley, fix it now! Amber is hungry. She needs organic venison, and the airport restaurant won't take the corporate card."
Amber's face appeared over his shoulder. She looked pale, but malice glinted in her eyes.
"Oh, Haley," she cooed, her tone dripping with fake sympathy. "Did you forget to pay the bills again? You know how forgetful you get when you're stressed. Maybe you should transfer the authorization to Jackson. He is the Alpha, after all."
"Authorization requires the account holder's biometric scan," I said calmly. "And that's me."
"Then approve it!" Jackson roared. "I command you!"
I felt the heavy pressure of the Alpha Command.
In the werewolf world, the Alpha's voice is law. It can force other wolves into submission, making them bare their necks and fall to their knees.
I felt a wave of pressure wash over me, trying to force my head down.
But I was a Master Healer. My spirit had been forged through years of wrestling with death itself. My mental shields were impenetrable.
I took a bite of the apple. Crunch.
I stared dead into the camera. I didn't bow, and I didn't flinch.
"No," I said.
Jackson froze. The sheer shock on his face was incredibly satisfying. For an Alpha Command to fail was exceedingly rare. It either meant the Alpha was weak, or the one being commanded possessed extraordinary power.
He chose to believe the former was impossible.
"You... you dare defy my command?" he stammered.
"You broke our contract, Jackson," I said. "And I'm not just talking about our marriage license. I mean the original agreement, the one you signed in red ink. You abandoned that loyalty on the tarmac today."
