CHAPTER 6

DRAVEN'S POV

An hour prior.

The Alpha's study smelled of old leather and older pride. I stood before my father's desk with my hands clasped behind my back, the picture of filial respect. It was a role I played well when necessary—the dutiful bastard son, grateful for whatever scraps of acknowledgment fell from the legitimate heir's table.

"Father," I said, inclining my head. "Thank you for seeing me on such short notice."

Alpha Gareth Stormclaw looked up from the documents scattered across his desk. Even at his age, he cut an imposing figure—broad-shouldered, silver-haired, with the same black eyes that had marked both his sons. Those eyes studied me now with the wary calculation of a man who had learned long ago that nothing I did was without purpose.

"Draven." He leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking beneath his weight. "It has been some time since you requested a private audience. What brings you here?"

"Curiosity, mostly." I moved to the window, looking out over the pack grounds where wolves went about their morning routines. "I heard whispers that something is troubling you. I thought perhaps I could be of service."

His laugh was short, bitter. "Service. Is that what we are calling it now?"

I turned to face him, one eyebrow raised. "You seem troubled, Father. And when the Alpha is troubled, the entire pack feels it. So I will ask plainly—what is wrong?"

For a long moment, he said nothing. Then he pushed one of the documents across the desk toward me.

"The Ironpeak Pack," he said. "They control the largest deposits of moonstone ore in the territory. We need it for our weapons, our defenses, our very survival. And they know it."

I picked up the document, scanning the terms outlined there. My expression remained neutral, but inside, I felt the familiar thrill. It is just as I thought.

"They want territory," I said. "The northern forests."

"A third of our hunting grounds." My father's fist came down on the desk. "They are strangling us, Draven. We produce moonstone ourselves, yes, but nowhere near enough to sustain the pack. Without their exports, we cannot arm our warriors. We cannot maintain our defenses. And they know it, so they squeeze and squeeze until we have no choice but to give them what they want."

"Or until we find another choice."

His eyes narrowed. "What are you suggesting?"

I set the document down, moving closer to his desk. "I can solve this problem for you."

"You." He said it like the word was foreign. "And how exactly would you accomplish what my advisors and I have been unable to do for months?"

"You will understand once it is done," I said with a slight smile, "But I promise you, Father—if you grant me this opportunity, the Ironpeak Pack will no longer be a threat to us. In fact, they may become quite... cooperative."

He studied me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. I could see the war playing out behind his eyes—the desire to dismiss me as he always had, battling against the desperate need for a solution to a problem that threatened everything he had built.

Finally, he spoke. "And what do you want in return?"

"One request," I said simply. "If I succeed, you grant me one thing I ask for. No questions, no conditions. Just your word as Alpha."

"That is a dangerous bargain, boy." But there was interest in his voice now, curiosity warring with suspicion. "How do I know you will not ask for something that would harm the pack?"

"Because harming the pack would harm me as well." I met his eyes steadily. "I am many things, Father, but I am not stupid. My fortunes are tied to this pack's survival just as surely as yours are. More so, perhaps, since I have far less to fall back on should things collapse."

He leaned forward, his fingers steepled beneath his chin.

In silence, his gaze was roaming over me.

"I need your answer now, Father.” I kept my tone respectful but firm."Do we have an agreement? I solve your Ironpeak problem, and you grant me one request."

The silence still stretched between us. I could see him weighing options, calculating risks, trying to determine what angle I was playing. Good. Let him wonder. The truth was far simpler than he would ever guess—I genuinely could solve his problem, and what I wanted in return was laughably small compared to what I was offering.

"Very well," he said finally. "If you can truly resolve this crisis, I will grant your request. You have my word as Alpha."

I inclined my head. "Thank you, Father. You will not regret this."

"I had better not." He leaned back in his chair. "Now then—what is this request of yours?"

"Nothing too serious." I let a slight smile curve my lips. "I have met a girl I like. I wish to marry her with your blessing."

The transformation in his expression was remarkable. The wariness melted away, replaced by something almost paternal—pleasure, perhaps even pride. It was so rare that I almost did not recognize it.

"A girl." He actually smiled. "Well. I suppose you have grown up after all, haven't you? It is about time you settled down, took a proper mate. Who is she? One of the visiting pack's daughters? That Silvermoon girl who kept making eyes at you during the last gathering?"

"Not quite." I kept my voice casual. "Her name is Ciara. Ciara Ashford."

The smile froze on his face.

Then it shattered.

"Ciara Ashford." He repeated the name slowly, as if hoping he had misheard. "The Beta's daughter. Your brother's former fiancée."

"Former being the operative word," I said calmly. "Kaden rejected her quite publicly, if you recall. He made it very clear she was not what he wanted."

"You—" My father stood so abruptly his chair scraped across the floor. "You dare? You dare to create such a scandal? To disrespect your brother in this way?"

"Disrespect?" I raised an eyebrow. "How is it disrespectful to want something he has already thrown away? Kaden made his feelings abundantly clear. He does not want her. He never wanted her. So where is the disrespect in my interest?"

"It is the principle of the thing!" His voice rose, that famous Stormclaw temper igniting. "You know what people will say! You know how this will look! The bastard son, taking his brother's rejected bride like some kind of—of—"

"Like some kind of what, Father?" I kept my tone mild, but there was steel beneath it. "Say it. Like some kind of vulture? Scavenger? Is that what you think of me?"

"I think you are playing a dangerous game!" He came around the desk, his face flushed with anger. "I think you are trying to embarrass your brother, to create division in this family, to—"

"I am trying to marry a woman I admire," I said flatly. "That is all."

He stopped, staring at me. "Admire? You expect me to believe that?"

"Believe what you wish." I met his gaze steadily. "But I am telling you the truth."

My father's expression shifted, confusion mixing with his anger. "You... you are serious."

"Completely." I allowed a hint of emotion into my voice—just enough to seem genuine, because the best lies were always wrapped in truth. "I know the timing is unfortunate. I know people will talk. But Father, who I choose to marry is a small matter compared to the survival of this pack, is it not?"

He opened his mouth, then closed it again.

"Any gossip is just idle talk from outsiders," I continued. "It means nothing. If I can truly resolve this crisis with Ironpeak—if I can secure our future and our strength—then all criticism will disappear. People will be too grateful for safety and prosperity to care about old scandals. They will praise you, Father, for leading the pack so well. For allowing your people to live without fear, to grow stronger under your guidance."

I could see him wavering, the anger cooling into uncertainty.

"Besides," I added quietly, "everyone knows Kaden does not like her. He said so himself, in front of the entire pack. So where is the harm?"

My father walked to the window, his back to me. When he finally spoke, his voice was low. "Do you understand how serious this matter is? Even if the Ironpeak problem can be solved, it will take enormous effort. Resources. Risk. Probably blood."

"I am already prepared," I said simply.

He turned, his black eyes—so like my own—searching my face. "Why? Why insist on this girl? You’re willing to risk all this… just for her? There are a dozen eligible she-wolves who would be honored to—"

"I have my reasons," I interrupted gently. "Reasons I must keep to myself for now. But they are good reasons, Father. And they serve the pack's interests as well as my own."

The silence stretched between us. I could see him calculating, weighing the potential scandal against the promise of solving his greatest problem. Trying to determine if I was playing him, and if so, whether it mattered as long as I delivered results.

Finally, he sighed. "If you truly solve the Ironpeak crisis—if you remove this threat from our pack—then I will not stand in the way of your marriage. You will have my blessing."

"Then we have an agreement." I inclined my head respectfully. "Thank you, Father. I will not disappoint you."

"See that you do not." He returned to his desk, already reaching for the documents as if dismissing me. "And Draven?"

I paused at the door. "Yes?"

"Whatever you are planning—whatever scheme you have concocted—it had better work. Because if it fails, you will have burned every bridge you have for nothing."

I allowed myself a small smile. "I never fail, Father. You should know that by now."

I left before he could respond, moving through the halls of the main pack house with purpose in my stride. The meeting had gone exactly as I had anticipated. Better, even. My father's desperation had made him more agreeable than I had dared hope.

Now I just had to make good on my promise.