The takeover

The two weeks leading up to our departure were a blur of cold efficiency. I didn’t just prepare to attend the Imperial Alpha Academy; I prepared to own the ground it was built on.

While the rest of the shifter world was busy packing trunks and coordinating outfits, Pamela and I were in the war room. My fingers flew across holographic displays as we redirected capital through offshore accounts and shell companies. By the time the first week ended, I had achieved the impossible: I had purchased a 38% stake in the Academy’s underlying infrastructure.

I wasn’t just a student. I was a majority shareholder.

"It’s done," Pamela said, her eyes reflecting the data streams. "The Board of Governors just ratified the transfer. You now own the entire West Wing. I’ve already sent the architects in. We’re re-branding it under the Silver Pack crest."

"Good," I replied, my voice devoid of emotion. "And the surrounding perimeter?"

"Purchased. Twelve thousand acres of forest and valley surrounding the school now belong to Aella Silver. If any student or staff member steps off the official campus path, they are trespassing on your private property."

On our final night in Chaos Valley, we gathered our inner circle. Marie, our Gamma—a sharp-eyed wolf with a scar across her bridge—stood at attention. She had been a rogue fleeing a cruel Alpha before I found her; now, she was the iron fist that would hold my valley in my absence.

"Marie, the resort managers report directly to you," I commanded, handing her a secure, encrypted tablet. "The mining quotas are set. If the yield drops even a fraction, I want to know why. The training regime for the new recruits is uploaded—no slacking because I’m gone."

"I understand, Alpha," Marie said, bowing her head. "And the emergency line?"

"It’s a direct, protected satellite link," I explained. "It bypasses the Academy’s jammers. If the Sentinels so much as sneeze, you press that button. I’ll be back within the hour by private jet if necessary."

The warriors of Chaos Valley stood in formation, a sea of disciplined, powerful shifters who owed their lives and their dignity to the Silver crest. I looked at them—my real family—and felt a swell of pride. I wasn't the girl who had been kicked out of Sandwell. I was the Alpha who had built a nation.

The morning of the term’s start, the Twin Sentinels were bathed in a golden sunrise. The hum of the helicopter’s blades echoed through the valley as we boarded.

I wore a tailored, charcoal-grey suit with a silk lavender blouse that matched the hidden glow of my eyes. Around my neck, a high-collared scarf of pure spider-silk protected my secret. Pamela sat across from me, looking lethal in her Silver Pack security uniform, her burgundy wolf humming with anticipation.

As we flew over the border of the Imperial Academy, I looked down. Below us, hundreds of luxury cars and pack-branded SUVs were lined up at the main gates. I could see the colorful banners of the different packs—the reds of the fire-wolves, the greens of the forest-dwellers.

And there, near the front of the line, was the familiar, dusty gold crest of the Sandwell Pack.

"There they are," Pamela noted, pointing to a sleek gold sedan. "Maxwell and Amelie. They look so small from up here."

"That’s because they are," I said.

The helicopter descended, not toward the student parking lot, but toward the private helipad located directly on the roof of the West Wing—my wing. The roar of the engines drowned out the welcoming speech being given by the Headmaster on the lawn below.

As the skids touched down, the door opened, and the mountain air rushed in. I stepped out onto the tarmac, my heels clicking with the sound of a countdown.

The students below stopped. The faculty looked up. Even the Dragon King’s guards shifted their stance.

I looked over the edge of the roof, my violet eyes locking onto a shocked, upturned face in the crowd below. Maxwell Sandwell stood frozen, his mouth agape as he stared at the woman he thought he had destroyed.

I didn't wave. I didn't smile. I simply adjusted my cuffs and turned toward the penthouse entrance of my new home.

The "help" had arrived, and I was here to collect interest.