Chapter 3

Silas sat in his leather armchair, a glass of amber whiskey untouched on the table beside him. His chest still ached with a dull, phantom throb where the mate bond used to be, a hollow space that made his breathing feel slightly uneven. 

Across the room, his mother, Luna Diane, paced the length of the study, her claws clicking sharply against the hardwood floor.“I cannot believe you just let her walk out that door!” Diane snapped, her voice shrill enough to rattle the windowpanes.

 “Do you have any idea how much of the pack's medical budget she was covering for free? And what about the monthly stipend she sent to the elder council? We were living like royalty because of her!”Elara sat on the sofa, delicately sipping her tea, though her knuckles were white around the porcelain cup.

 “Silas, darling,” she purred, though her eyes were anxious. “Was it really wise to let her leave? What if she goes to the Regional Council and claims you abused her? And who is going to heal the hunters when they return from the border?”Silas rubbed his temples, a pounding headache blooming behind his eyes. 

When he first claimed Lyra, he thought he had won the lottery. She was a quiet, submissive omega with a rare healing gift. The only drawback was her complete lack of influential family. 

But Elara had been pregnant with his pup, and her wealthy human family had threatened to disown her if she married a “dog.” So, Silas had kept Elara hidden in a city apartment, married Lyra for her utility, and brought Elara into the pack house under the guise of a “rescued cousin” once the pup was born.Lyra had been the perfect, blind wife. She healed his pack, paid for his mother's luxuries, and never asked questions. 

It had been a perfect arrangement. So what had snapped in her head today?“She’s bluffing,” Silas growled, his golden eyes narrowing as he stared at the rejection certificate on his desk. 

“She’s an omega who has never spent a night outside a heated pack house. She thinks she can survive on her own? She’ll be back by the weekend, begging for my forgiveness.”Diane scoffed, adjusting her diamond necklace. “She claimed the Deadlands, Silas! That cursed, frozen wasteland. She’s trying to scare you into giving her real territory.”“Let her have the rocks,” Silas sneered. He picked up his pen. 

The final Alpha Relinquishment of Claim document sat waiting. By signing it, he legally severed her from the Crescent Moon Pack and acknowledged her sovereign right to the Deadlands. It was a formality. 

A joke. No one survived the Deadlands. He scrawled his signature with a vicious flourish. “Let her freeze in the wasteland,” Silas said, tossing the pen down. “When the first winter storm hits, she’ll come crawling back on her hands and knees. And when she does, I’ll make sure she remembers her place.”Elara smiled, her anxiety melting away.

 “You’re right, my Alpha. She has nowhere else to go.”I was sitting in the plush, leather chair of Arthur Pendleton's office by eight A.M. sharp. 

I wore a tailored black suit I’d bought with the last of my emergency cash, my hair pulled back into a severe, no-nonsense knot. I looked like a woman ready to go to war.The heavy oak door clicked open, and Arthur walked in, a satisfied smile on his silver-fox face. “Ms. Vance,” he greeted, taking his seat and sliding a thick manila folder across the mahogany desk.

 “I have the finalized documents. Alpha Silas signed the Relinquishment of Claim at midnight.”I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. I opened the folder and flipped to the last page. 

There it was. His sharp, arrogant signature. He actually signed it. He actually thought I was bluffing. A cold, genuine smile touched my lips. “He thinks I’ll be back by the weekend.”Arthur chuckled dryly. “Men like that always do. 

Well, Ms. Vance, as of this moment, the Crescent Moon Pack has zero legal jurisdiction over you. The Northern Territory colloquially known as the Deadlands is officially registered under your sole ownership. Furthermore, the ancestral trust has been fully unlocked.”He reached into his briefcase and pulled out a sleek, heavy black metal card, followed by a small, velvet box.

 “The card is linked to the offshore liquid trust. It holds forty-five million dollars, untraceable and untaxed by the Regional Council,” Arthur explained. He slid the velvet box forward. 

“And inside this box are the physical biometric keys to the Royal Vault beneath the Deadlands, as well as the original land deeds.”I picked up the black card. It felt heavy. In my past life, I had begged Silas for fifty dollars to buy winter boots for the pack pups, and he had told me to walk barefoot in the snow to “build my wolf’s resilience.” Now, I held the keys to an empire. 

“Thank you, Arthur,” I said, my voice steady. “Now, we need to liquidate.”“Liquidate, ma’am?”“The trust includes three commercial properties in the downtown human district, and a warehouse in the industrial sector, correct?”“Yes.

 They generate a steady monthly income.”“They’re going to be worthless in two months,” I said smoothly, not elaborating. “I need you to contact a high-end human broker. Discreet. Someone who doesn’t ask questions. 

I want them sold immediately. Tell them I need a quick cash close. I’m willing to drop the asking price by fifteen percent if they can wire the funds within seventy-two hours.”Arthur raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by the aggressive move, but he didn’t argue. 

“I know a broker. Marcus Thorne. He handles... unconventional real estate. I’ll call him right now.”“Do it,” I said, standing up and tucking the black card and the vault keys into my inner jacket pocket. “Once the cash clears, I need you to wire it to a new, secondary account. And Arthur?”“Yes, Ms. Vance?”“Draft a contract for a private military contractor. 

I need to hire a crew to reinforce the perimeter of the Deadlands. Concrete, steel, and heavy weaponry. 

And keep it off the supernatural registry.”Arthur’s eyes widened slightly, but he gave a crisp nod. “Consider it done.”I walked out of the law firm and into the crisp morning air. The sun was shining, the city was bustling, and the humans and wolves alike were completely oblivious to the fact that their world was on a countdown.

 I pulled out my phone and dialed the number Arthur had just texted me. “Am I speaking to Mr. Thorne?” I asked when the line clicked open. “There are a few properties I need you to sell within a week. I will send you the details now.”