The Numbers Never Lie

Beatrice's POV

The accounting software crashed for the third time tonight and I want to throw my laptop through the window, but windows in the Alpha residence are expensive and I am the one who will have to explain the repair costs to pack elders who already think I waste money.

Instead I restart the program and pull up the financial reports Richard sent this morning with a note that just says, We need to talk about the Alpha accounts, which is Beta code for disaster.

The pack house echoes with music and laughter from Desmond's flirtatious gathering which he calls getting drunk with friends while I work late in my office pretending everything is fine. April knocks on my door carrying coffee.

"Luna Beatrice, you should eat something," she says, setting the mug on my desk carefully. "You have been up here since dawn."

"The numbers are wrong." I scroll through transactions that make less sense the longer I look at them. "Five million dollars moved out of pack reserves over six months and I cannot track where it went."

April's face goes pale because she helps with bookkeeping and knows what five million dollars missing means. "Could it be an accounting error?"

"Not unless we have been making the same error consistently since January." I click through pages of transfers all approved with Desmond's personal code. "This is intentional."

"Should I get Beta Richard?"

"Not yet." If Richard finds out before I understand the full scope, he will panic and panicking Betas make Alpha mates defensive. "Let me finish reviewing everything first."

April leaves and I return to the mess unfolding across my screen, watching months of careful financial management dissolve into proof that someone has been stealing from pack reserves while I was busy managing everything else that keeps this place running. The transfers all go to the same account, an offshore number I do not recognize, and they started small in January but escalated to half a million per month by June.

My office door slams open without knocking.

Desmond stumbles in smelling like whiskey and Anabel's perfume, he almost falls. He has looked like this most nights for the past year, ever since he decided being Alpha was less about responsibility and more about privileges.

"There you are," he says, pointing at me like I am hard to find in my own office. "Everyone is asking where Luna is hiding ."

"Where did five million dollars go?" I turn my laptop screen toward him so he can see the transfers highlighted in red.

He squints at the screen and laughs like I told a joke. "Oh that, do not worry about that, just business stuff."

"Business stuff that drained our pack reserves?" I stand up and walk around my desk, standing on the door just so he doesn't escape without answering. "Desmond, we cannot pay pack salaries next month if this continues. What business required five million dollars?"

"Investments." He waves his hand vaguely. "You would not understand, it is Alpha business."

"I am Luna of this pack and I manage every financial record we have. Make me understand."

His face flushes red the way it does when he is angry or embarrassed. "You do not get to question my decisions, Beatrice. I am the Alpha, not you."

"You are the Alpha who is bankrupting us." I keep my voice low even though I want to scream. "Those transfers went to a gambling account, did they not? You have been using pack money to cover your debts."

Desmond's silence answers before his words do.

"How much do you owe?" I ask quietly.

"It is handled."

"How much, Desmond."

"Five million, but I have a plan to fix it so stop nagging me about money like some shrew." He tries to push past me but I do not move.

"What plan?"

He pulls a folded document from his jacket pocket and drops it on my desk, cream paper with gold embossing that looks official and expensive. "That plan."

I unfold the paper with my trembling hands  because I already know this is going to be bad, but reading it is worse than anything I imagined.

Private Supernatural Auction; Lot Transfer Agreement; Luna Beatrice of Crescent Moon Pack; Starting bid one million dollars;  Auction date this Friday.

"You sold me," I whisper.

"Yeah, I made a business arrangement that solves our debt problem." He crosses his arms like he is proud of his solution. "The auction house values you at five to seven million based on your Luna status and training. You will sell for more than I owe, we clear the debt, everyone wins."

"I do not win!" The words explode out louder than I meant. "I'm not property you can sell when you need money!"

"You’re whatever pack law says you are," Desmond says, his voice going cold and flat. "And pack law says I can transfer your bond to settle legitimate debts. The contract is already signed, Beatrice. The auction house confirmed this morning, you are Lot 23."

I almost lost my balance . "When were you going to tell me?"

"Right now, obviously." He grabs the contract back and shoves it in his pocket. "You have two days to prepare. The auction house will send someone tomorrow with instructions."

"I could refuse."

"You could," Desmond agrees. "And then the debt collectors will come for both of us and seize pack lands, and every wolf in Crescent Moon Pack will lose their homes because you were too selfish to accept your fate. Can you live with that?"

The trap closes around me so perfectly I almost admire the cruelty. He knows I cannot let the pack suffer for his mistakes, recognizes I have spent three years protecting these wolves from his incompetence, and admits I will choose their safety over my freedom.

"You are a monster," I say.

"I'm a realist." He responds by straightening his jacket like we just finished a pleasant conversation. "You were never going to give me an heir anyway, too defective for that. At least this way you are useful."

The defective lie still stings even though I know the truth. Desmond is infertile, not me, but pack law favors Alphas and his word matters more than nature.

"What if no one bids on me?" I ask.

"Then we are both dead by Sunday." He walks to the door and pauses. "Wear something nice, Beatrice, try to look valuable for once instead of like a disappointing burden. Maybe you will bring enough to clear my debts and give me a fresh start."

The door closes behind him and I sit alone staring at my laptop screen full of numbers that prove my mate has been destroying us for months while I worked late nights trying to hold everything together.

Two days until the auction… until I stand on a stage and let strangers decide my value.

My phone buzzes and Richard's name appears. I let it go to voicemail because I cannot tell him what Desmond just did, impossible to admit that our Alpha sold his Luna like furniture to pay gambling debts, and can't face the pity in his eyes when he learns the truth.

Instead I pull up my secret files, the ones I have been keeping since month six when I first suspected Desmond was incompetent. Three years of documentation proving every mistake he made and every problem I solved, every crisis he caused and every disaster I prevented.

I have been building evidence unaware what I would use it for, just knowing survival requires preparation and now, I know.

I copy everything to an encrypted drive and email it to Richard with instructions that will not make sense until I am gone. Then I opened a new search: supernatural auction rules and regulations.

If Desmond thinks selling me will solve his problems, he has no idea what he just set in motion, because the girl who survived two years alone in the wild did not stop being dangerous just because she learned to smile through pack dinners.

The auction is in two days, but my real survival planning starts now.