Roland's thumb traced the edge of the ledger page. Back and forth. A nervous habit I'd seen my father's Beta do a thousand times when something troubled him.
"These accounts," he said slowly. "They're registered under shell companies. But the routing numbers—" He tapped a column of figures. "These trace back to Blackthorn territory."
I leaned forward. "How much?"
"Six months of systematic diversion." His voice was flat. Professional. But I saw the muscle jump in his jaw. "Training budgets. Territory maintenance. Emergency reserves. Everything funneled out in amounts small enough not to trigger immediate flags, but large enough to—" He stopped. Looked up at me. "Macy, this is over two hundred thousand dollars."
Silver snarled. I kept my face perfectly still.
"What else?" I asked.
He hesitated. Then reached into the stack of documents I'd brought and pulled out a folder I hadn't seen before. "I cross-referenced the financial records with communication logs. Pack Alphas are required to file reports with the Council of Elders for any inter-pack negotiations. Mason filed nothing."
He opened the folder. Inside were printed transcripts—mind-link communications captured by the pack's official record crystals. Every ranked wolf's links were automatically archived for security purposes. Most Alphas never bothered to read them.
Mason had forgotten they existed.
Roland's finger moved down the page, stopping at a conversation dated three months ago.
*Mason Green to Dorian Voss: The merger terms are acceptable. Silvercrest territory absorbed under Blackthorn governance. I retain co-Alpha authority with full autonomy over former Silvercrest wolves.*
*Dorian Voss to Mason Green: And the Russell bloodline claim?*
*Mason Green to Dorian Voss: Dissolved. The Luna's authority derives from the mate bond. Once I mark my chosen mate, Macy's claim becomes void. No heir, no legacy.*
The words blurred. I blinked hard. Forced them back into focus.
No heir. No legacy.
Boden. He was going to erase Boden's claim too.
Roland's hands trembled as he set the page down. "He's selling your father's pack. Trading it for a title he already stole from you."
"Keep going," I said. My voice didn't shake. I was proud of that.
He pulled out another transcript. This one was dated two weeks ago.
*Mason Green to Dorian Voss: Selena Flores will be marked as Luna before the next full moon. The transition will be seamless. Macy is weak. Her wolf hasn't recovered from the pregnancy. The pack already sees it.*
*Dorian Voss to Mason Green: And if she challenges?*
*Mason Green to Dorian Voss: She won't. She's too desperate to believe I still want her. But if she does, I'll invoke Alpha authority and have her removed as unfit. The pack will support it. They've seen how fragile she's become.*
Fragile.
Silver exploded inside my chest. Not a growl this time. A roar. Pure, incandescent rage.
I pressed my palms flat against the table. Felt the wood grain bite into my skin. Breathed.
Roland was staring at me. Not with pity. With something else. Recognition.
"You knew," he said quietly. "You already knew most of this."
"I suspected."
"And you came to me anyway. To confirm it."
"I need evidence," I said. "Not suspicion. Not intuition. Evidence that will hold up before the Council of Elders. Evidence that will destroy him."
Silence settled between us. The fire crackled. Outside, wind rattled the windows.
Roland studied my face for a long moment. Then he nodded slowly. "You have your father's eyes. I didn't see it before. But I see it now."
"Will you help me?" I asked.
"Yes," he said. "I'll need access to the full pack financial system. Quietly. And I'll need to cross-reference these communications with physical records—meeting logs, territory patrol reports, anything that corroborates the timeline."
"You'll have it."
He gathered the documents, sliding them back into the folder with careful precision. "Macy. When you move against him, it has to be absolute. No hesitation. No room for him to maneuver. If you leave him any opening—"
"I won't," I said.
He believed me. I saw it in the way his shoulders straightened. The way he met my gaze without flinching.
"Your father would be proud," he said again.
This time, I didn't let it crack me. I just nodded. Stood. Turned toward the door.
"Macy."
I looked back.
"You're not fragile," Roland said quietly. "You never were."
I drove back to the pack house with the evidence locked in my trunk and Silver singing victory in my chest. Not yet. But soon.
The next morning, I woke early. Made breakfast. Set Mason's coffee on the counter exactly how he liked it. Kissed his cheek when he came downstairs.
"I thought I'd bring lunch to the pack house today," I said lightly. "For the warriors. They've been training so hard."
Mason smiled. Squeezed my hand. "That's thoughtful. They'll appreciate it."
"I know you have council meetings this afternoon," I continued. "So I'll come by around noon. Before the eastern patrol runs."
Something flickered in his eyes. Just for a second. Then it was gone. "Perfect timing. I'll see you then."
He kissed my forehead. Left.
I watched him go. Then I pulled out my phone and texted Petra, my personal Gamma. The only ranked wolf I trusted completely.
*Eastern grounds. Noon. Keep Mason and Selena occupied.*
Her reply came instantly. *Understood, Luna.*
I spent the morning cooking. Roasted chicken. Fresh bread. Vegetables from the pack gardens. Enough food for twenty warriors. I packed it carefully into insulated containers, arranged everything in baskets.
The perfect dutiful Luna, caring for her pack.
At eleven-thirty, I loaded everything into my car. Drove to the pack house. Smiled at the wolves I passed in the corridors.
Petra met me at the entrance. "They're on the eastern grounds," she said quietly. "Selena's running a drill. Mason's observing."
"How long?"
"At least an hour. I made sure the drill was complicated."
I touched her arm. "Thank you."
She nodded. Took the baskets. "I'll set these up in the dining hall. Take your time."
I walked through the pack house like I belonged there. Because I did. This was my father's house. My bloodline's seat of power. Every stone, every beam, every inch of territory—mine.
Mason's office was on the second floor. Private. Locked.
I pulled the key from my pocket. The one I'd lifted from his jacket two nights ago while he slept. Slid it into the lock. Turned.
The door opened.
Inside, everything was exactly as I remembered. Mahogany desk. Leather chair. Bookshelves lining the walls. My father's sword mounted above the fireplace—the blade that should have passed to me.
I crossed to the desk. Tried the drawers. Locked.
I pulled a thin metal pick from my pocket. Another gift from Roland, who'd taught me how to use it yesterday. It took three tries. Then the lock clicked.
Inside the drawer were files. Contracts. Maps.
And a small velvet box.
I opened it.
A Luna's marking ring. Silver band. Moonstone center. Engraved with Selena's name.
Silver howled.
I closed the box. Set it aside. Pulled out my phone and started photographing everything. Every page. Every signature. Every map showing Silvercrest territory carved up and redistributed under Blackthorn authority.
Every piece of evidence I needed to destroy him.
When I finished, I put everything back exactly as I'd found it. Locked the drawer. Pocketed the key.
Walked out of the office like I'd never been there at all.
Downstairs, the warriors were gathering for lunch. Petra had set everything up beautifully. They thanked me. Called me Luna. Smiled.
I smiled back.
Mason returned an hour later, Selena at his side. Both still in their training clothes. Both smelling of sweat and earth and each other.
He saw me in the dining hall and his face lit up. "This is wonderful, Macy. The warriors are so grateful."
"I'm happy to help," I said softly.
Selena's eyes met mine across the room. That same smirk. That same contempt.
I smiled at her.
She had no idea.
None of them did.
