Chapter 2

Her account exploded with millions of views.

Every new video she posted was met with a flood of comments, an overwhelming tide of vicious curses calling for me to be skinned alive.

Elder Kael slammed his tablet onto the conference table.

"Raven! Look at this!"

The screen showed the Blackstone Group's stock from the previous night, a sheer, blood-red line plunging in a freefall.

"One night! You couldn't keep it in your pants for one night, and now every Pack in the nation is laughing at us! The Blackstone name, a three-hundred-year legacy, ruined by you in a single day!"

"Elder Kael, this is a textbook frame-up. Give me three days, and I will present the evidence…"

"Raven! Don't give me that nonsense you use to fool a soft-hearted academic like Marcus! The entire werewolf world is laughing at us. When I rally the board to throw you from your throne, don't you dare come crawling to me for mercy!"

The hot-headed old fool didn't give me a second to explain.

These fools, blinded by greed, had already bought into their own stereotypes: that I was some brutish male Alpha who couldn't walk past a beautiful Omega in heat.

Then again, after all these years, they didn't even know the first thing about me.

I turned sideways, my gaze falling on my reflection in the floor-to-ceiling window. My hair was slicked back flawlessly, and my jawline was sharp and aggressive.

My disciplined, powerful physique was the very picture of male aggression.

Over the next three days, my Pack's training grounds on the outskirts of the city were targeted in four anonymous attacks. One of the guards had his leg broken.

My sister, Chloe, called me from a locker room at the werewolf academy, her voice choked with fear. "Raven, are you okay? Why is that crazy woman spreading all those lies?"

Listening to her voice, which was on the verge of tears, I could only hate myself for bringing this trouble upon my family.

Through the phone, I could clearly hear the muffled sounds of students pounding on the door and shouting insults from the hallway.

"Your pervert brother is an animal who only thinks with his dick! Get off our territory!"

"Chloe, did they touch you? Don't move. I'm on my way to break down their gate." I floored the accelerator, running red light after red light, and pulled Chloe out of that wretched school, taking her to a relatively safe apartment.

"Raven, you're a woman! Why don't you just reveal the truth and shove it in their faces?" She couldn't understand why I would rather bear this filth than immediately reveal my secret.

I could feel Chloe's inner wolf restlessly snarling. She had just gone through her first transformation, and the excessive fear had her on the verge of losing control.

"Chloe, if I reveal my trump card now, that bitch can just pivot and spin a new story. She could cry and claim I'm a sadist with a special fetish. She could even use her imagination to accuse me of using my power to force her to satisfy my perverted desires with toys."

I held Chloe by her shoulders and looked into her eyes.

"I need to let Selena get completely carried away by her own lies. Only when she's at the peak of her arrogance will the fall be great enough to shatter her completely."

Just then, my phone vibrated. It was a text from Selena herself.

"Raven, I'm carrying your bloodline in my belly. Get ten million dollars and that penthouse suite downtown ready. Otherwise, in the next livestream, you'll be begging me to shut up."

The entire situation was a farce. There was no embryo in her womb, and I lacked the anatomy to do what she claimed.

As if on cue, she immediately posted a close-up of a pregnancy test with two distinct lines.

I didn't bother with any further clarifications. I simply opened a private broadcast channel, feeding it directly to the Blackstone Group's internal network and all external media outlets.

"As the Alpha of the Blackstone Pack," my voice was steady, "I offer no defense against these accusations for now."

"If the bruises on Miss Selena Vance's arms are verified by a third-party forensic examiner to be my doing; if the pup in her womb is confirmed by genetic testing to be of my bloodline…"

I paused. "Then I will formally hold a mating ceremony with her, grant her the title of Blackstone's Luna, and transfer one-third of my personal assets to her and the child."

Twelve minutes after the announcement went out, Selena screenshotted and reposted my statement on Wolf-Gram.

Her caption read: "Raven finally admitted it! That monster ruined my life! But the title of Luna can't buy back my lost dignity!"

The trending charts exploded. Another wave of overwhelming curses flooded my private messages. In the hours that followed, someone even splattered the glass doors of the headquarters with bloody red paint spelling out the word "DIE."

I simply instructed the head of security to lock down all building entrances.

"Contact Selena's Council-appointed lawyer," I said, dialing my chief legal counsel.

"I need you to get him to confirm, in his own words, the most critical accusation. Does Selena maintain that I, with male anatomy, subjected her to forcible penetration?"

"Raven," my lawyer's voice was soft. "I've been with you for seven years. I know you are absolutely not the kind of Alpha she's describing."

Half an hour later, the formulaic tone of the Council-appointed lawyer came through the line:

"It is confirmed. Miss Vance suffered extreme physical trauma. She experienced tearing when she was forcibly knotted. If your client doesn't want his reputation destroyed during the public trial, a settlement is his only viable option."

I listened to the recording, and a slow, predatory smile spread across my lips.

"Excellent."

"Selena, it's showtime."