MasukMILLIE’S POVThe morning after the coronation brought a strange, heavy stillness to the packhouse. The air inside the sprawling stone fortress was crisp, filled with the scent of burning pine from the hearth and the distant, soothing sounds of the territory waking up. By all accounts, I should have been completely at peace. The bond with Braham was an absolute, humming presence in the back of my mind, and the crown was officially mine.But as I stepped down into the sunlit morning room, a cold, sharp knot tied itself tightly in my stomach.Callie and Renan were standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows, their heads huddled close together. They were speaking in frantic, hushed whispers, their body language taut and guarded. The moment my foot hit the hardwood floor, their conversation cut off with an unnatural, jarring abruptness."What are you two discussing?" I asked, my voice steady but direct as I walked toward them."Nothing, Mills," Callie said quickly, offering a forced, overly
MILLIE’S POVThe heavy iron doors of the packhouse vaults closed with a distant, echoing thud, swallowing the final, desperate curses of Roy and the cold, furious silence of Pius. The sentinels had moved with absolute, military precision, bundling the entire treasonous family up together like common criminals and casting them down into the deep, silver-lined dungeons while the remnants of the event finally wrapped up.Braham stood beside me, his large hand still locked in mine, the tight tension that had lived in his broad shoulders for months completely vanishing. He let out a low, dark chuckle, leaning down to brush his lips against my temple."I told you," he murmured, his voice a rich, satisfied rumble that vibrated straight through our bond. "Nobody is allowed to be evil or cause chaos on my big day. Anyone who tries gets a personal escort to the cells."A genuine, breathless laugh escaped my lips, the lingering adrenaline from the courtroom drama melting into the warm, crisp mo
BRAHAM’S POVThe digital files projected in the center of the sacred grove were an absolute, undeniable obituary for Roy’s ambitions. The technical data Will had laid bare didn't just suggest his guilt; it mapped out the systematic orchestration of the leaks, the bot farms, and the psychological warfare aimed directly at my mate and my son.Yet, even with his back pressed flat against the wall, Roy tried to deny it."This is a fabrication!" Roy roared, his chest heaving as he violently wrestled against the iron grip of the two elite sentinels anchoring him to the spot. His face was flushed a dangerous, desperate crimson, sweat beading along his hairline. "This man has been looking for a reason to dismantle my family's influence for months! This data can be forged! Anyone with basic network access could have hijacked my terminal codes while I was away from my desk! You cannot condemn a high-ranking pack executive on circumstantial digital scraps!"His voice echoed sharply across the
VICENTE’S POVThe silence in the sacred grove was no longer peaceful; it was the suffocating, heavy quiet that precedes an execution. The crisp morning air carried the sharp, bitter stench of exposed treason, bleeding out from the center of the stone circle where Vivian and her six disgraced minions lay pinned against the damp grass.Braham stood beside my granddaughter, his chest expanded, his alpha pressure radiating outward in massive, suffocating waves that forced the weaker wolves in the perimeter to drop their eyes. Millie stood tall at his side, the raw, fresh mating marks on her neck serving as a stark, undeniable declaration of her ascension. The throne was sealed, and the fools on the ground were staring into the jaws of the empire they had tried to steal.Roy stood a few paces back from his sister, his arms held firmly by two of Braham’s largest elite sentinels. Even cornered, with his sister weeping in the dirt and the confiscated silver weapons piled like trash at the Hig
VICENTE’S POVThe North American wolves truly believed that age was a mathematical weakness. They looked at my silvered hair, my tailored human suits, and the quiet, deliberate weariness I chose to wear like a cloak, and they assumed I was merely a relic to be pitied—a grieving grandfather brought across the Atlantic to hold his granddaughter's hand. They had no idea that at ninety-seven years old, just three years shy of a full century on this earth, I possessed more tactical experience in my left hand than their entire rogue faction had combined in their short, reckless lives.I had noticed Roy, Vivian, and their father, Pius, from the very first second Braham introduced me to the pack executive.It was a subtle thing, hidden beneath layers of pack protocol, but it was there. It was in their scent—the sharp, bitter undertone of overcompensation, the way their eyes lingered a fraction of a second too long on my granddaughter’s throat, and the forced, artificial warmth in their postu
ROY’S POVThe cheering from the sacred grove was deafening, a sickening roar of validation that made the blood boil beneath my skin. I stood near the edge of the tree line, my hands shoved deep into my pockets, my jaw clenched so hard my teeth ached. Every single wolf in this territory was falling over themselves to celebrate the 'sacred union,' completely blind to the fact that Braham was handing our entire heritage over to a woman whose family name was dragged through the mud on a global scale.They thought the fight was over just because her Spanish grandfather had pulled a legal stunt in the press. They thought the throne was sealed.They had no idea that Vivian and I were about to flip the board entirely.The plan was ironclad. Vivian had spent weeks mapping out the old tunnels, securing duplicate keys to the subterranean vaults beneath the packhouse, and bribing two low-level sentries to turn a blind eye to our equipment. We weren't going to fight Braham out in the open—that w
VIVIAN'S POVI couldn't stop thinking about what Roy had said."Marriage to you gives us legitimate access. An heir gives us a claim. And accidents happen, especially to Alphas who make enemies."The words had been haunting me for weeks. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Roy's cold expression as h
MARTHA'S POVThe prison cafeteria smelled like grease and desperation.I sat alone at a corner table, pushing watery scrambled eggs around my tray. Nearly six months pregnant and everything made me nauseous. The food. The smell. The kicks. The constant noise. The knowledge that I'd be here when my
MILLIE'S POVTwo days after Martha’s call, a letter arrived from the prison.I recognized the prison return address immediately. But it wasn't from Martha.It was from my father.I stared at the envelope for a long time before opening it. Braham sat beside me on the couch, close enough to offer sup
The prison cell was exactly as depressing as it deserved to be.Gray concrete walls. A thin mattress on a metal frame. A toilet and sink in the corner with no privacy. The constant noise—women crying, shouting, arguing through the bars.But I didn't care about any of that.Because I'd won.Not in t







