C3

Hearing the dark thrill vibrating through the Alpha's voice over the encrypted comms link, Camden Whitaker choked on his breath, almost dropping his secure terminal. "Who? It cannot possibly be that Shaw female, can it?"

"No," Asher replied, his deep voice smooth and absolute.

"Then who in the hell is she?"

Silence stretched over the secure line.

Camden let out an exasperated sigh. "You are seriously keeping her name from me? With your inner wolf’s ruthless reputation, finding a female you can actually tolerate without tearing her throat out is a damn miracle. I do not care if she is a rogue or a human born without a pack. Whoever she is, I will personally draft the pack ledger to make her your official Alpha female."

Asher let out a low, dangerous rumble of laughter that vibrated through the receiver. "She is in my bed right now."

Camden went dead silent for two full seconds. "You already brought her back to Mooncrest Manor? God help us all. You really are out of your mind."

Asher ignored the remark, his golden eyes narrowing as he stared out toward the dark treeline of Hollowfang Woods. "Transfer the executive authority of Whitmore Global Holdings directly to my name."

Camden froze, his sharp tone dropping into confusion. "You are finally stepping in to run the corporate territory yourself? I thought you preferred leaving the board politics to me so you could focus on the Ironfang Command."

"Make yourself the executive vice-president," Asher instructed coldly, crushing Camden's unspoken protest. "I require the primary seat."

"What do you need the top title of Whitmore Global Holdings for?" Camden asked, genuinely baffled. "Running the human-facing corporate arm is a tedious chore. It brings in pack resources, but it is endless paperwork."

Asher lowered his voice, a dark, possessive weight behind every word. "It will give her the weapon she needs."

He had seen the cold, calculating hatred buried deep within Harper's eyes back at the Bureau. A human-born woman, cast aside by her own bloodline and publicly humiliated by the Mercer Family, would not seek a legal union with the Apex Alpha of the Nightcrest Pack unless she intended to burn her enemies to ash. And in Dominion State, the only force capable of utterly obliterating both the Calloway Family and the Mercer Estate was the absolute corporate and supernatural might of Whitmore Global Holdings.

On the other end of the line, Camden let out a low whistle. "So this whole power move is for your new bride. I see how it is."

"Her reputation in Ravenshade City has been dragged through the mud," Asher said, his tone dropping into a lethal, warning register that made the line hum with static. "Protect her name. If a single employee or pack member utters a word of disrespect toward her, strip their title and throw them out of Frostmoon Territory."

"Understood," Camden replied, dropping all sarcasm. "If she is the one who finally tamed your inner beast, no one in the Nightcrest Pack will touch her."

Asher’s knuckles turned white around the receiver as he recalled the fresh blood soaking through the bandages on Harper's head back at the hospital. "Within three months, I want the Calloway Family and the Mercer Bloodline erased from Ravenshade City entirely."

He terminated the call and walked back into the master suite with soundless, predatory steps.

Harper was curled up on her side, her soft, plus-size curves sinking comfortably into the oversized mattress. Her long dark hair spilled across the white pillows, her brow slightly furrowed in her sleep. Asher stepped to the edge of the bed and leaned down, his broad shadow looming over her. His thick fingers gently brushed the edge of the cotton gauze wrapped around her skull, trailing down the soft curve of her cheek until his thumb rested against her warm, full lips.

He bent closer, breathing in her scent—fresh winter rose mixed with the faint, metallic tang of blood and the unmistakable, intoxicating heat of a waking wolf.

Harper’s long eyelashes fluttered open. For a second, her dark eyes met his golden gaze. There was no terror in her expression, no instinct to cower from an Apex predator. Instead, she leaned her cheek subconsciously into his palm, seeking the steady warmth of his hand before her heavy eyelids sank shut once more.

Asher pressed a single, firm kiss against the center of her forehead, his rough voice whispering into the quiet room. "No matter who you were before, or what blood runs in your veins, you belong to the Whitmore Pack now. No one will ever hurt you again."

When I opened my eyes the next morning, brilliant sunlight was streaming through the floor-to-ceiling glass doors of the balcony.

I sat up, the heavy silk sheets sliding down my chest. I remembered being carried into this massive stone suite last night, remembered the solid, burning heat of Asher's chest against my face, and the complete absence of danger I felt in his arms. It was a bizarre feeling for a former war commander, but my body felt more rested than it had in two lifetimes.

I swung my feet off the bed and walked straight into the sprawling cloakroom attached to the suite. The entire space had been freshly outfitted overnight—rack after rack of high-grade garments, custom light-armor dresses, and deep blue silks designed specifically to fit my curvy, plus-size frame.

I picked out a structured, long-sleeved dress in midnight blue. The rich fabric hugged my waist, highlighting my soft hips while giving me complete freedom of movement. After Dr. Nathaniel Brooks arrived to check my head wound and re-wrap the gauze, I pulled a wide-brimmed black hat over my hair, ready to face the storm waiting for me outside.

Downstairs in the main living area, Alpha Asher sat casually on an obsidian leather couch, his long legs crossed, a tablet in his hand. The sheer breadth of his chest and the lethal aura rolling off his skin dominated the entire room.

When my heels clicked against the marble floor, his golden eyes snapped up, locking onto my figure with intense, dark approval. He stood up slowly, stepping across the room until he reached me. He reached out, his thick fingers wrapping securely around my wrist, and pressed a thick leather bound document into my palm.

"Your bride-price," Asher said softly, his voice a deep baritone rumble.

I blinked, opening the leather folder. Inside was an official, legally stamped deed of executive transfer. The document transferred one hundred percent of the controlling voting shares of Whitmore Global Holdings directly into my name, officially making me the chief executive authority of the largest corporate conglomerate in Dominion State.

Any female in Ravenshade City would have lost her mind over a gift of this magnitude. It was worth billions, carrying enough raw power to bring entire pack lines to their knees.

I looked up from the paper, my eyes meeting his calm, golden gaze. He had clearly run a full background check on original Harper. He knew I needed immediate financial and legal backing to crush the Calloway Family and break the Mercer Estate.

"This is quite the bride-price, Alpha Whitmore," I said, a playful, dangerous spark flashing in my dark eyes as I closed the folder. "Thank you. But you will have to wait a little while for my dowry."

Asher’s lips twitched upward into a faint, possessive smirk. "I am a patient wolf, Harper."

"Good," I whispered, stepping closer until my chest brushed against his suit jacket. "Because when I bring you my dowry, it will be the head of the Mercer Bloodline on a silver platter."

Without waiting for his response, I turned on my heel and walked out of Mooncrest Manor. Behind me, Asher watched my retreating figure, his eyes burning with dark, unspoken promise.

Thirty minutes later, the private transport dropped me off at the wrought-iron gates of Calloway Manor.

I pushed the heavy front doors open and stepped into the main foyer. Sitting on the plush velvet sofa in the center of the living room was Tessa Calloway, Mallory Callahan’s biological mother and my stepmother. She was draped in a fitted emerald gown, sipping tea from a delicate porcelain cup, looking every bit the arrogant Beta matriarch.

When she heard my footsteps, she turned her head. The moment her eyes landed on my blue dress and my steady, unbothered posture, a flash of deep disgust crossed her face.

"So the fat embarrassment finally decided to crawl back home," Tessa sneered, setting her teacup down with a sharp clatter. "Your father left for the pack hall in a rage because of the shame you brought on our bloodline. From now on, you will not set foot in the main dining hall. The servants will leave your scraps in the kitchen. You will squat on the floor and eat there like the animal you are."

I stopped in the center of the hall, folding my arms over my chest, my face completely devoid of anger. A cold, mocking smile touched my lips.

"Do not act like you are doing me a favor, Tessa," I said smoothly, my voice carrying the dead, lethal weight of an army commander. "You will not have to worry about my meals. I am moving every single one of my mother’s belongings out of Calloway Manor today."

Tessa’s face turned bright red. She slammed her hand against the marble coffee table, her Beta claws extending slightly. "How dare you speak to your elder with such disrespect! You wretched, ungrateful bitch!"

She lunged out from the sofa, raising her hand to strike my face.

In my past life on the Ironfang Front, I had dodged elite assassin blades. I casually stepped half an inch to the left, letting her momentum carry her forward. Tessa stumbled wildly into empty air, barely catching herself against the edge of a display pillar.

"You insolent fat pig!" Tessa shrieked, whirling around with her face twisted in rage.

She stopped dead in her tracks.

I stepped into her personal space, towering over her with my heavy frame, my blue eyes glowing with a freezing, unnatural light that made the air in the foyer drop five degrees.

"Lay a finger on me again, Tessa," I whispered, leaning down so my lips were inches from her ear, "and I will tear your arm out of its socket and feed it to the feral wolves in Hollowfang Woods."

Tessa gasped, her knees knocking together as a wave of genuine, primal terror washed over her. The woman standing in front of her was not the soft, gullible girl she had spent years bullying. This was a predator.

Before Tessa could find her voice, the front doors banged open.

Malcolm Calloway walked into the hall, flanked by two armed Calloway bodyguards and the Blackwell Legal Team. His face was dark with fury as his eyes locked onto me.

"Harper!" Malcolm roared, his Alpha presence flaring through the room. "You dare return here after ruining our alliance with the Mercer Family? Hand over your mother's blood-will registry immediately! The Calloway Bloodline is stripping your twenty percent shares today!"

I slowly turned around to face my father, pulling a sealed document from my coat pocket and snapping it open in front of his face.

"You are too late, Malcolm," I said, my voice echoing loudly across the grand foyer. "My mother's blood-will clearly states that my twenty percent shares unlock the moment I am legally married. And as of five o'clock yesterday afternoon, the shares are officially transferred."

Malcolm stared at the dark crimson seal on the paper, his eyes widening in shock as he read the name printed beside mine.

HUSBAND: ASHER WHITMORE, ALPHA OF THE NIGHTCREST PACK.

"This... this is impossible!" Malcolm stuttered, stepping back as his face drained of all color. "Alpha Whitmore would never marry a human-born disgrace like you!"

"He already did," I replied, my voice slicing through the silent hall like a freshly sharpened blade. "And as the primary shareholder of Calloway Global Holdings, my first order of business is evicting you and Mallory from Calloway Manor by the end of the week."