Haley POV:
I placed my phone face down on the pristine white table, severing all signals from the outside world. For five years, I had to reply to Jackson’s messages within seconds. Flipping that piece of metal over was me taking my life back.
I picked up my iced Margarita and took a slow sip. The coarse salt on the rim stung my lips.
A tropical breeze carrying the scent of hibiscus swept across the private beach of St. Barts, fluttering the edges of my loose silk cover-up.
Footsteps crunched against the sand. A private butler in a crisp white shirt walked briskly toward my lounge chair, his face a mask of professional urgency.
He bowed slightly and offered a silver tray with both hands. Sitting on the velvet lining was a heavy satellite phone. A red light blinked on its top.
I frowned. My eyes locked onto that flashing red dot, and I didn't reach for it. That specific frequency was strictly for Dorsey territory emergencies. My stomach tightened. It was a physical rejection, a trauma response built over years of cleaning up his messes.
"It is an international transfer from the Kansas police, ma'am," the butler said softly. "They claim it concerns your legal spouse."
*Legal spouse.* A sharp sneer tugged at the corner of my mouth. I reached out and picked up the heavy phone.
The moment the speaker touched my ear, the sharp, violent sound of shattering glass pierced my eardrum.
"Get your filthy hands off me!" Jackson’s furious roar echoed through the line. He sounded like a cornered animal. He always resorted to violence to cover up his own guilt. His mother had spoiled him rotten, and the concept of consequences was entirely foreign to him.
A sheriff cleared his throat over the receiver. "Is this Haley Dorsey? We need to verify your identity."
"Just Haley," I said.
"Your husband's credit cards were declined across the board," the sheriff said, his tone thick with exhaustion and secondhand embarrassment. "He smashed the front window of the airport's VIP lounge. We have him in cuffs."
I shifted my weight, leaning comfortably back against the cushions of my chair. I watched the turquoise waves crash against the shoreline.
On the other end, a scuffle broke out. Jackson snatched the radio mic. "Haley! Transfer the funds right now!"
A weak, pathetic wave of Alpha command bled through the static.
I let out a low, breathy laugh. Before, that command would have forced my head down. Now, with the precursor of my White Wolf bloodline awakening in my veins, his pressure felt like a joke. He was a clown screaming at the ocean.
"Officer," I said. My voice was completely flat. "Listen to me carefully."
The sheriff grunted in acknowledgment.
"I signed the divorce papers yesterday. I am no longer financially or legally responsible for that man's debts."
"You crazy bitch!" Jackson screamed in the background. "You can't do this to me!"
I cut him off, speaking directly to the sheriff. "Process him according to human law. Lock him up for as long as the property damage dictates."
I didn't wait for the sheriff's shocked silence or Jackson's string of curses. I pressed the end call button.
I tossed the satellite phone back onto the silver tray. It clattered against the metal like a piece of rotting garbage.
I reached for my sunglasses, ready to close my eyes, when the private tablet on my table erupted with a blaring, max-volume alarm.
A red warning flashed across the screen. *Highest Level Override Video Request. Encrypted Source.*
My eyes narrowed. Nobody bypassed my private firewall. I tapped the green accept icon.
The screen flickered. The bright tropical sun reflecting off my screen was replaced by the dim, cold interior of a military stealth cabin. A man filled the frame.
Alpha Kane sat in a steel chair. His shoulders were impossibly broad, his long legs clad in tactical gear. His deep, glacial eyes pierced right through the lens, staring directly at me. He was a veteran of the Northern borders, a man who viewed life and death with absolute indifference.
"Master Healer," Kane said. His voice was a low, gravelly rumble that made the speakers of my tablet vibrate. He used my hidden dark web codename.
Without waiting for my reaction, Kane flipped the camera. The lens focused on a metal operating table. A Beta lieutenant lay there, gasping for air. A massive hole was rotting through his stomach, oozing thick black mist. Kane would pay any price to save his men. I knew his history. He lost his best friend to weakness when he was young, and he never let it happen again.
Kane flipped the camera back to his face. "Ten million gold coins."
His aggressive, predatory gaze slid down the screen, landing perfectly on my left hand. He stared at my bare ring finger.
I raised an eyebrow. A dangerous smile curled my lips.
"My private stealth jet has been circling over your island for three minutes. Come up, my Master Healer."
