Daphne's POV:
I drove back to my childhood home in a daze, the scent of that mysterious man still lingering in my senses. The lights were on. My parents, Robert and Helen Lindsey, were sitting on the sofa waiting for me, their expressions grave.
"Daphne, what happened?" my mother, Helen, asked, rushing to my side and clasping my cold hands. "The pack link feels chaotic." That mental link—a spiritual connection shared by all pack members—could transmit intense emotional turmoil.
I sank into an armchair as the adrenaline finally began to fade. I told them everything: the public humiliation, the arranged union.
"An arranged union?" Father’s voice was low, yet a crack finally appeared in his usually stoic expression. "Was it the Alpha King himself you met last night?"
"Yes." I knew it had all happened so fast; they needed time to process it.
"What were his terms?" To my surprise, Father quickly regained his composure.
I sat down and recounted the conversation by the lake—the three conditions, plus my own addendum. Father remained silent for a long time after I finished, his fingers tapping rhythmically against his knees; he was weighing the costs and benefits.
"What about the scope of the mutual defense pact?" he asked.
"The entire Northern border—from Blackrock Ridge to Wind-Gully Pass," I said. "His exact words were 'interception zone'—not an offensive deployment, but a defensive buffer. He won't fight our battles for us, but any force looking to attack us would have to cross his territory first."
Father’s fingers stopped tapping. He looked up at me. "Do you realize what this means?"
"It means our family's mine has shifted from being a 'contested asset' to becoming 'part of Silvercreek City's sphere of influence,'" I said. "The price is that all the Ironclaw Pack's commercial partnerships must be handed over to him for re-evaluation."
"You agreed to that?"
"I did. Because half of those Ironclaw partnerships were based on 'shadow contracts' Brighton signed on the side—contracts riddled with loopholes from the start." I leaned back into the sofa. "Let him investigate. We won't have to plug the holes he uncovers. As for the parts he misses, the long-term orders—spanning at least three years—will still flow through our hands. It’s not a loss."
Mother finally spoke, her voice soft: "When you were discussing this with him... were you afraid?"
I thought for a moment. "No. Because I knew he needed me—at least as urgently as I needed him. He has no local roots. Although the Ironclaw Pack is only a mid-sized clan, we geographically control the three main trade routes connecting Silvercreek City to the Southern Territories. Without this connection, his supply lines would have to take a two-hundred-kilometer detour."
Father looked at me as if I were a stranger.
"When did you figure all this out?"
"From the day you said Brighton's arrogance would destroy the Ironclaws," I said. "You gave me the direction; the rest was homework I had to do myself."
That night, I sat at my desk and typed up the verbal agreement we’d reached by the lake, turning it into a formal memorandum titled: *Silvercreek City Cooperation Framework*.
Then, I turned off the screen and lay back down.
I needed to fall asleep quickly to stay sharp. Tomorrow, I would be going over this draft point-by-point with the Wolf King, and I needed to stay half a step ahead of him at the negotiating table.
