C6

The silence of the studio was broken only by the hum of the encryption software. Serena leaned into the glow of her monitor, the cool air of the night pressing against the window behind her.

"My motivations are my own, Rowan," she said into the phone, her voice steady. "I just need to know if the blade I’ve handed you is sharp enough to draw blood."

"It is," Rowan’s voice crackled, sounding like gravel being ground together. "But a weapon this lethal usually comes with a heavy price. Why hand over the Graves tactical playbook?"

Serena leaned back, her eyes tracking the flickering data on the screen. "My ex-husband was a man possessed by his work. He lived in that War Room, mapping out hockey trades and mafia hits like they were his only fated mates. I thought he was building an empire for us, but I see now he was just building a wall to keep me out." She paused, a bitter smile touching her lips. "He’d reach for my laptop without a second thought. When he broke our bond for my sister, he was too arrogant to realize he’d left his digital scent on my hardware. It’s my device, Rowan. Bought with my own coin. Whatever he left on it belongs to me now."

"The law of the pack would call it theft," Rowan countered, "but the law of the street calls it opportunity. I don’t need your help to crush a Graves—I’ve been taking territory from him since before you were Luna. He told you it was personal, didn't he?"

"He did. He took it as a challenge to his bloodline."

"It was. I have a long memory when it comes to his father, Richard. But tell me... what’s the true cost of this stolen intel?"

Serena’s fingers danced over the keys, finalizing a transfer. "The core data is moved to a secure vault only I can access. However, I left his encrypted comms active on the laptop. It would be a tragedy if a rogue element—someone with the skill to ghost past my security—were to break into the Glass Estate while I’m out and 'steal' the device. I’ll even file a report with the Blackthorn Council to make the break-in look authentic. I don't want anything else from that house. Just the files that will ruin him."

"You’re asking me to stage a raid on your own den?"

"In this underworld, nobody stays an Alpha by playing fair," she replied, using Lucian's own favorite mantra against him. "I know you have enforcers who breathe for this kind of shadow-work."

There was a long silence on the other end. "I am a developer and a team owner, Serena. I should find such a suggestion insulting."

"And yet, I can smell the interest in your scent. You aren't insulted at all."

"No," Rowan admitted, his voice dropping an octave. "I’m not. What do I owe you for the 'stolen' hardware?"

"I want you at the Crimson Veil Gallery next Friday," Serena said, the fire of ambition finally flickering in her chest. "My solo show. A man of your notoriety showing up sends a message. I won't touch a drop of the blood-money Lucian calls alimony. I want to build my own dynasty with my art. If the Shadow Alpha of the North is seen by my side, the elite collectors will swarm. It will burn the Graves family to the ground."

"A public defection wrapped in a police report. You’re a cold one, Serena. But you’re forgetting something," Rowan said, his tone shifting into something almost nostalgic. "I’ve been a patron of your work for a decade."

Serena froze. "You remembered?"

"Ten years ago, at the midsummer rites. You were a student, selling canvases that looked like they were painted with starlight. My mother bought one, and I took the other. I still have it in my private study. You’ve changed, though. You were softer then."

"The girl you bought from was a dreamer," Serena whispered. "This woman is a survivor. I need to know... when will you be clear of the estate?"

"I’m meeting a territory scout tomorrow," she continued. "I’m listing the Glass Estate for a pittance just to spite Lucian. He’s mating my sister tomorrow, and I want the deed signed over before they return from their honeymoon. I only hope the buyer has the guts to keep him out."

"Why sell for a loss when you can draw blood?" Rowan’s voice was suddenly predatory. "Lucian wants that house for his heir. If I’m the buyer, I don't just want the keys. I want to level the place. Your brother, Caleb, wants to drive the bulldozer, doesn't he?"

Serena’s heart skipped a beat. "You’d let him do that?"

"I’ll pay full market value. I’ll let your brother crush the foundation. And I’ll livestream the demolition to the Graves’ war room so they can watch their 'dream home' turn to dust while they’re on their honeymoon. I want him to see me standing on the rubble."

"Then we have a deal," Serena breathed. "Be at the house tomorrow afternoon. I’ll be out. And Rowan? Call me Serena. If we’re going to burn an empire together, first names are a requirement."

The next afternoon, the Glass Estate felt like a tomb. Serena stood in the center of the living room, her bags packed. Her real estate agent, a frantic wolf from the local pack, was waving a digital tablet in the air.

"I don't believe it! A cash offer? Full asking price? Closed by tomorrow?"

"Don't question the moon’s favor," Serena said, her voice hollow. "Just sign the scrolls and get your gear out. I’m moving into Caleb’s territory tonight. I’ve spent six weeks living in a tomb of bad memories. I need to be gone before the sun sets."

"I’ll call every moving crew in the Manchester pack," the agent promised. "Take the coin and don't look back."

As the sun began to dip, Caleb arrived, his face a mask of concern as he looked at the open windows and the ransacked feel of the study.

"Caleb... look at the living room," Serena said, acting the part. "I think someone broke in while we were at the council office."

"It wasn't Lucian," Caleb growled. "He’s at the altar right now, pledging his soul to a snake. We need to call the Blackthorn Enforcers and report the theft."

Serena leaned against the doorframe, watching her brother work the phone. "It’s strange, isn't it? A shadow buyer appearing the same day as a break-in?"

Caleb paused, squinting at her. "You're hiding something. I know that twitch in your tail. What did you do?"

"I might have whispered in the ear of a certain rival," she admitted. "Lucian has been hounding me to sell the house back to him for weeks. I’d rather see it in ashes than let Valeria sleep in my bed. If Rowan Ashcroft bought it, Lucian can't touch it."

Caleb whistled, low and long. "Ashcroft? Serena, that man has more power than the entire Graves line combined. He’s ruthless. My interior design firm was actually bidding for one of his new hockey arenas last week."

"Did you get the contract?"

"It’s down to me and an elite firm. It’s ironic... Lucian spent months cursing Ashcroft’s name, and my own brother was trying to work for him."

Caleb’s phone buzzed—a frantic, telepathic ping from their sister at the ceremony. Why are you ruining my mating day? You and Caleb are supposed to be standing behind us!

Serena ignored the mental intrusion, looking at her brother. "I’m sorry you’re caught in the middle, Caleb."

"Don't be," he said, stepping forward to pull her into a side-hug. "I'm picking a side, and it's yours. Now, let’s talk to these enforcers and then grab a drink. Your treat, since you’re officially the wealthiest lone wolf in the city?"

Serena laughed, the sound foreign even to her own ears. "I’d like that."

A week later, the Crimson Veil Gallery was a sea of velvet and champagne. Serena stood by her latest restoration—a 15th-century wolf-motif that seemed to glow under the gallery lights.

A shadow fell over the piece. Serena didn't need to turn to know who it was. The scent of rain and mountain air was unmistakable.

"Good afternoon, Rowan," she said softly. "You caught me at a good time. I just finished this piece."

"Good afternoon, Serena," Rowan replied, standing close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from him. "How does it feel to bring something dead back to life?"