Seraphina POV:
Dante was on his knees, his forehead pressed against the cold marble floor. The sight should have been satisfying. It should have felt like victory. But looking at him now, shivering under the weight of my father's aura, I felt nothing but a cold, hollow clarity.
"Get up," Lola screeched, her voice cracking. She was tugging at Dante's tuxedo jacket. "Why are you kneeling to this old man? He's just a gangster!"
Lola didn't understand. She was a wolf of low breeding, born into a pack that prioritized appearance over history. She didn't know that the man standing beside me wasn't just a gangster. He was the apex. The Alpha of Alphas.
In our world, biology is law. When an Alpha King releases his command, it bypasses the conscious mind and strikes directly at the wolf spirit residing in our DNA. It forces submission to prevent weaker wolves from being slaughtered.
Dante knew this. His wolf was currently whimpering in the back of his mind, exposing his neck in a desperate bid for survival.
"Quiet, Lola," Dante gasped, fighting against the gravity that pinned him down. He managed to lift his head, sweat beading on his upper lip.
He looked at my father, then his eyes slid to me. He blinked, trying to reconcile the image of his docile, coffee-fetching secretary with the woman standing amidst shattered glass and armed royal guards.
"Seraphina," Dante wheezed. "This... this is a misunderstanding. Tell him. Tell him we are partners."
"Partners?" I asked. My voice was calm, but inside, my White Wolf was pacing, ready to snap his neck. "Is that what you call it? I thought I was a stapler. Useful, but soulless."
Dante flinched. The color drained from his face. He tried to stand, his legs trembling violently. He managed to get one foot under him, his arrogance warring with his instinctual fear.
"I was angry," Dante stammered, wiping the blood from his nose where he had hit the floor. "You know how I get. It's the Alpha blood. It makes me passionate."
"You are not an Alpha," my father said. His voice was low, like thunder rolling in the distance. "An Alpha protects his own. You are a child playing with fire."
Dante ignored him, focusing his desperate gaze on me. He took a step forward, his hands raised in a placating gesture.
"Seraphina, look at the big picture," he pleaded, his charm turned up to a frantic maximum. "We have history. Seven years! I built this company with you. We can fix this. It's just a lover's quarrel, right? Just a little drama before the wedding?"
He actually believed it. He thought this was a negotiation. He thought he could talk his way out of treason against the Crown.
"There is no wedding, Dante," I said. "And there is no company. Not anymore."
"Don't be like that," he said, a nervous smile twitching on his lips. "You're emotional. You're human. You don't understand the pressures of the Pack. I had to choose Lola. She fits the image. But you... you are the brains. I need you."
He reached out to touch my arm.
My father moved, but I held up a hand to stop him. I didn't need the King to fight this battle.
I let my aura flare. It wasn't the damp, suffocating feeling of a normal Alpha. It was sharp and cold, like inhaling ice crystals.
"I am not human, Dante," I said, letting my eyes flash silver. "And I understand the Pack better than you ever will."
