THE ICE QUEEN

FIVE YEARS LATER

“The offer is insulting, Mr. Sterling. And quite frankly, it’s boring.”

I spin my leather chair around to face the floor-to-ceiling windows of my office on the 40th floor. Below me, the city of New York looks like a circuit board of light and glass. It is a long way from the snowy forests of the West Coast. A long way from the girl who begged for scraps of affection.

“Ms. St. Claire,” the man across the desk stammers. He is the CEO of a rival fragrance company, sweating in his Italian suit. “Fifty million is a generous buyout. Lumina Scents has only been on the market for three years. You’re… you’re new to this game.”

I stand up.

I am wearing a tailored white pantsuit—a stark contrast to the invisible girl who wore gray wool. My hair is cut into a sharp, asymmetrical bob, dyed a platinum blonde that shines like a weapon under the office lights. My heels click against the marble floor as I walk toward him.

“I am not playing a game, Mr. Sterling,” I say, my voice cool and smooth, like liquid nitrogen. “I invented the Moon-Veil formula. A perfume that not only smells divine but masks a werewolf’s scent entirely. Do you know what that is worth to the supernatural community? To celebrities who want privacy? To politicians? To Rogues?”

I slam a folder onto the desk.

“It’s worth billions. And you offer me fifty million?”

I lean in, letting my violet eyes bore into his. I let a fraction of my aura slip—not the weak aura of an unmated wolf, but the crushing, ancient power of the White Wolf lineage I awakened to.

Mr. Sterling pales. He can feel it. He’s a Beta, and his instincts are screaming at him to submit.

“Get out of my office,” I whisper. “Before I buy your company and turn it into a warehouse for my packaging supplies.”

He scrambles to gather his papers, muttering apologies, and practically runs out the door.

I sigh, leaning against the edge of my mahogany desk.

“You scared him,” a deep voice says from the shadows of the corner.

Sebastian steps out. He hasn't aged a day in five years. The scar on his cheek is still there, giving him a dangerous edge, but his silver eyes are warm. He is my savior. My mentor. The man who scraped me off the ice and rebuilt me, bone by bone.

“He was wasting my time,” I say, rubbing my temples. “Do we have the report?”

Sebastian nods. He hands me a black tablet.

“The acquisition is ready,” he says. “But are you ready? Once we sign this, there is no going back.”

I look at the screen. The logo of the target company spins in 3D.

Obsidian Enterprises.

My heart gives a traitorous thump. Five years. I haven’t spoken his name in five years. I haven’t looked at a photo. I haven’t let myself think about the snowy ravine or the fire.

“How bad is it?” I ask.

“Bad,” Sebastian says. “Kael is a strong Alpha, but he’s a terrible businessman. He’s been bleeding money for years. The mining operations failed. The real estate investments tanked. And…” Sebastian hesitates. “He’s unstable. The pack is restless. Rumor has it the Alpha hasn’t shifted in years.”

Good, a dark voice inside me purrs. Let him rot.

“Buy it,” I say. “Buy the debt. Buy the mortgage on the Packhouse. Buy it all.”

Sebastian raises an eyebrow. “You want to own him?”

“I want to own the ground he walks on,” I correct him. “I want him to know that the woman he threw away is the only reason he still has a roof over his head.”

Before Sebastian can reply, the double doors of my office burst open.

“MAMA!”

Two tornadoes of energy fly into the room.

My sons.

Liam comes first, as usual. At four years old, he is already a tank. He has Kael’s dark hair and broad shoulders, built like a linebacker in a toddler’s body. He tackles my legs, nearly knocking me over with his Alpha strength.

“Easy, tiger!” I laugh, catching him. “Did you break anything today?”

“Only the security gate!” Liam beams, looking proud. “It wouldn’t open fast enough!”

Behind him, strolling in with one hand in his pocket and the other holding a tablet, is Noah.

Noah is different. He has my lighter hair and Kael’s grey eyes, but they are hidden behind thick-rimmed glasses (which he doesn’t actually need, but thinks make him look ‘intellectual’). While Liam is dressed in a superhero t-shirt, Noah is wearing a tiny vest and a bow tie.

“The gate didn’t open because I locked it,” Noah says, not looking up from his screen. “I was testing the firewall. It’s trash, by the way. I broke through in twelve seconds.”

“Noah,” I scold gently, smoothing his hair. “Stop hacking the building’s security. Mr. Henderson almost had a heart attack last time the elevators started playing Baby Shark.”

“Mr. Henderson needs cardio,” Noah replies dryly.

I look at Sebastian, who is smirking. “You created these monsters,” he reminds me.

“They are my monsters,” I say, pulling both boys into a hug.

I bury my face in their scent—fresh rain and pine. They are the only reason I survived. When I woke up in Sebastian’s cabin, broken and screaming, it was the flutter of their heartbeats that kept me grounded.

Liam pulls back, looking at the black tablet on my desk. He can’t read well yet, but he recognizes the wolf logo.

“Is that the Bad Man?” Liam asks, his voice dropping to a growl that sounds absurd coming from a four-year-old.

Noah looks up, his eyes narrowing behind his glasses.

“Obsidian Pack,” Noah reads. “Alpha Kael.”

The room goes quiet. I never lied to them. I never told them their father was dead. I told them the truth: Your father is a powerful man who made a very big mistake. He hurt Mommy, and we had to leave.

To Noah, Kael is a villain in a video game. To Liam, he is a punching bag waiting to happen.

“Are we going there?” Noah asks, his fingers tapping rhythmically on his tablet case.

I look at my sons. They are strong. They are brilliant. They are everything Kael wanted in an heir, and everything he threw away.

“Yes,” I say, standing up and straightening my blazer. “We have a business trip.”

“Is he going to be mean to you?” Liam asks, clenching his tiny fists. “Because if he is, I’ll bite his ankles. I’ve been practicing.”

“And I’ll drain his bank accounts,” Noah adds casually. “I already found his routing number. It’s surprisingly unsecure for an Alpha.”

I laugh, a genuine, sharp sound.

“No need for that yet, boys,” I say, walking to the window to look out at the horizon. “We aren’t going there to fight.”

I pick up the stylus and sign the digital contract on Sebastian’s tablet.

Authorized: Eva St. Claire, CEO.

“We’re going there to collect a debt,” I whisper.

I turn back to Sebastian.

“Prepare the jet. We leave for Seattle in the morning.”