Chapter 3: The Stolen Numbers

POV: Lyra Mooncrest

If you want to destroy a selfish ruler, you don't use a hidden blade—you turn his own financial ledgers against him.

I waited until Alaric turned the corner down the main corridor, his footsteps fading into the distance as he went off to look for Thalia. The second he was out of sight, I slipped past the doorway, my boots silent on the wooden floorboards.

I didn't head for the main square. I headed down the back stairs, straight into the quiet basement beneath the administration building.

The Sun Valley Logistics Archives Vault was cold and quiet. Row after row of tall wooden shelves stood in the dim light, filled with box after box of old papers, tax logs, and trade receipts. For six years, I was the only person who came down here. I knew where every single piece of paper was stored. I knew which boards squeaked, which keys belonged to which locks, and where Alaric hid his secrets when he thought no one was watching.

I pulled out my brass master key ring. The metal felt cool against my fingers as I slid the key into the heavy iron lock of the main wall vault.

Click.

The lock turned with a smooth, soft sound. I pulled the heavy double doors open, exposing the inner drawers.

My heart hammered in my throat, but my hands didn't shake. I reached all the way into the back drawer, behind the routine monthly reports, and pulled out three thick, leather-bound folders.

These were the original, unedited financial audit ledgers for the past three years.

In my past life, when the winter freeze hit, our medical shelter had run out of basic antibiotics, bandages, and fever syrups within the first forty-eight hours. Dozens of elderly pack members and young children died in their beds because we didn't have enough emergency supplies. When I asked Alaric where the emergency health funds had gone, he told me the suppliers had raised their prices and the money had simply run out.

I had believed him. I had cried for those families, thinking we were just unlucky.

I flipped open the middle folder, my eyes moving fast down the long columns of hand-written numbers.

"Let's see where the money really went," I whispered to myself.

My finger stopped on a entry from eight months ago.

Emergency Winter Medical Reserve Fund — Withdrawal: $50,000.

Directly attached to the page was a official bank transfer slip stamped by the central city bank. It wasn't paid to a medical supply company. It wasn't paid to a pharmacy.

The recipient was a high-end luxury jeweler in the capital. The memo line, written in Alaric's own neat hand, read: Custom Diamond Teardrop Necklace.

A fifty thousand dollar diamond necklace. While our medical shelter was missing basic fever medicine, Alaric had taken fifty thousand dollars from our emergency survival fund to put diamonds around Thalia's neck for her anniversary gift.

"You monster," I breathed out, my chest tightening with disgust.

He didn't just neglect the pack. He robbed them. He spent our life-saving medical fund on jewelry while the people who built this pack worked until their hands bled.

"Lyra?"

A stern, dry voice echoed from the vault entrance behind me.

I closed the ledger immediately, holding it against my chest, and turned around slowly.

Standing in the doorway was Elder Garrick. He was the pack’s head legal auditor, a man in his late sixties with silver hair, sharp grey eyes, and a face carved from deep lines. He was famously strict, stubbornly loyal to pack law, and feared by every official in Sun Valley because he cared about rules more than he cared about titles.

"Elder Garrick," I said softly, keeping my tone respectful. "You're down here early today."

"I could ask you the same thing," Garrick said, stepping into the room. He adjusted his glasses, looking at the open wall vault and the thick ledgers in my hands. "The morning assembly starts in less than fifteen minutes. Why are you digging through the historical audit files instead of preparing your quarterly report for the council?"

"Because I found something that needs your attention before the assembly starts, Elder," I said.

Garrick frowned, his thick eyebrows pulling together. "What are you talking about? The annual audit was signed off by Alpha Alaric four months ago."

"The audit you were given was edited," I said, walking toward him. I opened the leather folder and pointed my finger right at the stamped bank transfer slip. "Read this page."

Garrick sighed, taking a pair of reading glasses from his coat pocket and putting them on. "Lyra, if this is about the delayed shipment of building materials for the outer wall—"

"It isn't about building materials," I interrupted smoothly. "Look at the fund name. Look at the total amount. And look at the recipient address."

Garrick looked down at the paper. As his eyes scanned the official bank seal, his face went completely still. The slight color in his cheeks vanished. He moved his head closer to the page, checking the date, the signature, and the account numbers.

"This... this is the emergency medical reserve," Garrick muttered, his voice trembling slightly. "This money was approved by the council three years ago specifically for emergency medicine and winter heating equipment."

"It was," I said. "And fifty thousand dollars of it was transferred directly to a private jeweler in the capital eight months ago."

"Who authorized this transfer?" Garrick demanded, his voice dropping into a harsh, angry pitch. "The council never voted on a withdrawal from the medical reserve!"

"Look at the signature at the bottom of the slip, Elder," I said quietly.

Garrick stared at the dark ink. "Alaric..."

"He used the emergency medical money to buy Thalia's diamond necklace," I said, looking him dead in the eye. "And when I asked him last month why our winter medical kits hadn't arrived, he told me the regional suppliers were out of stock."

Garrick’s hands began to shake with pure rage. His jaw worked silently for a moment before he raised his eyes to meet mine. "Do you have copies of this?"

"I have three certified copies," I said, reaching into my desk drawer and pulling out three thick, sealed red wax envelopes. "I made them ten minutes ago using the official logistics press. One for you, one for the head of the guard council, and one for my private records."

I handed the first envelope directly into Garrick's hand.

Garrick took the envelope, holding it tight. "If this is real, Lyra... if these numbers are accurate, this is illegal. It is a direct violation of pack law. An Alpha cannot use emergency survival funds for personal gifts without unanimous council approval."

"It is 100% real," I said. "And you know my handwriting on the ledger verification stamps. Check the ledger codes yourself. They match the main ledger in your office."

Before Garrick could speak again, a loud, booming sound shook the archive room.

The heavy bronze emergency horn blasted from the top of the central bell tower, its deep, loud tone echoing across the entire compound, shaking the dust off the overhead wooden beams.

Once. Twice. Three times.

The call for an emergency pack tribunal.

Garrick looked up toward the ceiling, his brow furrowed. "The emergency horn? What is going on up there?"

"Alaric," I said flatly, a cold, sharp smile touching my lips. "He realized I wasn't going to hand over my mother's land in private. He's calling an emergency assembly to publicly strip me of my title and force me out of logistics before I can speak."

Garrick looked down at the sealed wax envelope in his hand, then back at me. His stern, cold face hardened into solid stone.

"He thinks he can use a public assembly to intimidate you?" Garrick asked, his voice shaking with deep anger.

"He thinks I'm still the weak girl who will cry and obey him," I said.

"He is mistaken," Garrick said sharply. He tucked the wax envelope deep into his inner coat pocket and straightened his collar. "Go up to the grand hall, Lyra. Do not say a word about this ledger until I take my seat at the council table. When I ask for the official audit presentation, you lay these transfer slips on the high desk in front of every elder in this pack."

"Understood," I said.

Garrick turned on his heel and walked out of the archives vault with quick, furious steps.

I stayed in the quiet room for five more seconds. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my mother’s silver teardrop pendant—the only piece of jewelry she had left me before she died. I unclasped the small silver chain, wrapped it around my neck, and fastened the latch securely over my collarbone. The cool silver rested right against my skin, giving me a sense of grounding and strength.

I picked up the remaining two wax envelopes, tucked them inside my coat, and turned toward the stairs.

The horn blasted a fourth time, longer and harsher than before.

I walked up the wooden stairs, pushing open the heavy double doors that led into the main corridor. The hall was filled with hundreds of pack members rushing toward the central grand hall. People were whispering, looking confused and nervous.

"Why is the horn blowing?" a woman near the wall whispered.

"Alpha Alaric called an emergency hearing," a guard replied, his sword clanking against his side as he walked fast. "Word is that someone in logistics committed insubordination against the Alpha's direct orders."

I walked right past them, my head held high, my face completely expressionless.

As I reached the arched doorway of the grand hall, the grand room was already packed to the brim. Over three hundred people stood in rows along the polished stone floor. At the far end of the hall, on the raised wooden dais, stood Alaric.

He was dressed in his full Alpha coat, his hands resting on the ceremonial table, looking down at the crowd with a dark, furious expression. Standing right beside him, wearing a soft cream-colored wool dress and looking tearful, was Thalia.

Alaric raised his head as the heavy doors swung open. His eyes locked onto mine across the crowded room, full of arrogance, anger, and absolute dominance. He thought he was about to crush me in front of the entire pack.

I didn't stop. I stepped past the threshold into the center aisle, the heavy oak doors closing behind me with a final, quiet shut, leaving me standing alone in front of three hundred waiting eyes.