C4

He planned this long before she touched down at Ironfang, didn’t he?”

Every move Tristan made was a calculated play to pave the way for Selene’s smooth return to the pack. After the call with Grandma Harper ended, a single thought burned through the static in my brain: I’d promised to bring my mate home this Saturday. But how could I show up with a ghost?

I scrambled to gather my intelligence reports, practically running toward the exit of the Crowne Dominion Tower. I was halfway to the street when a matte-black Alpha Transport vehicle screeched to a halt in front of me. The window slid down, revealing Tristan’s sharp, lethal profile—the kind of face that made every wolf in the Cheshire territory bow their head in fear.

“Get in the car, Lyra,” he commanded, his voice vibrating with that effortless Alpha authority.

I wanted to keep walking, to vanish into the city, but the weight of Grandma’s hope forced my hand. I pulled the door open and climbed into the back, pointedly avoiding the passenger seat.

“I told you I’d handle the settlement, but don't think playing the martyr is going to trigger my sympathy,” Tristan said, his eyes meeting mine in the rearview mirror with a flicker of reproach.

“Playing the martyr?” I let out a jagged, hollow laugh that didn't feel like mine. “Is that what you call a woman who just watched her life get traded for a pre-war alliance?”

“Watch your tone,” he growled.

“When are we finalizing the split?” I pushed, my voice brittle. “I want a date.”

“Drop it. It isn't the right time for the pack to see a fracture,” Tristan replied, sounding puzzled by my sudden aggression.

“Then where are we going? This isn’t the route to the estate.”

“We’re heading to the High Command. Victor Hale wants to see his favorite protégé,” Tristan said, his voice actually softening for a second.

Victor Hale was the only pillar of strength I had left in the Mafia wolf world besides Grandma. After House Ashford was burned to the ground and my parents vanished during a border skirmish, Victor was the one who ensured I wasn't culled.

I leaned my head against the cold glass, the silence stretching until I couldn't breathe.

“Thirty days,” I whispered.

“What was that?” Tristan asked.

“I want the bond dissolved and the papers signed within a month. No extensions.”

I couldn't let it drag on. If he smelled the change in my scent, if he realized a pup was growing inside me, he’d invoke the Alpha’s Right. He’d force me to end it to protect his ‘true’ bloodline with Selene.

Tristan’s jaw tightened. “Stop the games, Lyra. You’re being impulsive.”

“Am I?”

“You’ve spent a decade chasing my shadow. Don’t pretend you’re in a rush to leave it now,” he said, his voice laced with a frustrating mix of guilt and arrogance. “Until the Council signs off, we keep up the facade. No one outside this car sees a crack in the Crowne image. Do you understand?”

“You really are made of ice, Tristan,” I breathed, the tears blurring the streetlights outside. “You don't care who you freeze out as long as you’re on the throne.”

I cracked the window, letting the biting wind of the transport fleet’s wake dry my face as we climbed the private road toward the Hale Sanctuary. When the car stopped, Tristan stepped out and moved to my door. He reached in, shielding my head with his palm as I got out—a perfect, practiced gesture of a protective mate.

“Don't get used to the touch,” I muttered, trying to pull my hand away as he laced his fingers through mine.

“Keep your head up,” he hissed, pulling me closer.

I stumbled, my shoulder hitting his chest, and for a split second, our lips brushed. The heat of the spark—the cursed mating bond that shouldn't have existed—electrified my skin. I gasped, stepping back, my eyes wide.

“Tristan…”

“Well, it’s about time you two arrived!” Victor Hale’s voice boomed as he stepped onto the porch, leaning on his silver-headed cane. “I thought you’d forgotten your old mentor.”

I stood frozen, my heart still racing from the accidental kiss, unsure of how to look the old wolf in the eye. Victor’s sharp, seasoned gaze swept over us, immediately catching the jagged edge of the energy between us.

“Tristan, you’re pushing her too hard again. I can see the exhaustion on her,” Victor barked, shooting a glare at the Alpha.

Tristan remained silent, his grip on my hand tightening just a fraction.

“I’m alright, Victor,” I lied, forcing a smile that didn't reach my eyes.

“You’re pale, Lyra. You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Victor said gently, taking my other hand. “Come inside. I’ve set up the chessboard. It’s been far too long.”

I let him lead me into the grand foyer, but the moment we crossed the threshold, the air turned toxic. Regina Crowne was sitting on the velvet sofa, looking like the queen mother of the Mafia world, and right beside her, laughing over a crystal glass of wine, was Selene Voss.

Selene looked up, her eyes widening in a performance of perfect, innocent surprise. “Oh! Hello there. You’re one of Tristan’s tower analysts, aren't you?”

Regina’s voice followed, dripping with a venom that made my wolf snarl. “Is that how he’s introducing her now? Look at her—faded House Ashford rags and a face full of misery. It’s no wonder Tristan keeps her in the shadows.”

She turned to Selene, patting her hand. “I’m just glad the real Alpha blood is back where it belongs.”

“I’m so sorry, Regina,” Selene cooed. “I should never have left for the Northern Territories. If I’d stayed, Tristan wouldn't have had to settle for… well, for the help.”

“That is enough!” Victor’s voice cracked like a whip, silencing the room instantly.

Regina and I had been at war since the day I moved into the estate. To her, I was a scavenger picking through the ruins of a billionaire-style wolf empire, trying to steal a seat at a table that required a higher pedigree than a fallen house.

“Lyra is a guest in this house,” Victor growled, his eyes flashing. “And she is more of an Alpha than anyone currently sitting on that sofa.”