CHAPTER 4

The media packs were in a fever dream. What did the Alpha of the Vale mean? Was he truly marking Ava Hart as a protected wolf of the Vale Media Group? To the journalists, it was no longer a joke. Seeing Connor's shadow over me, the reporters pivoted like scared pups, turning their fangs toward Turner Studios instead.

The fallout was instantaneous. Blake’s enforcers were already scrambling to find a scapegoat, starting with Riley’s personal handler. I watched the chaos from a distance, my inner wolf as still as a frozen lake. I stripped off the silk gown, donned my leather gear, and slipped out the side exit of the arena.

Waiting for me was Connor’s sleek, midnight-black transport.

"Get in," he commanded, his voice vibrating through the glass. I slid into the leather interior, the scent of expensive cedar and rain washing over me. "Thank you for the intervention today," I whispered.

Connor’s eyes narrowed, a wolfish smirk dancing on his lips. "Did you honestly think I’d allow common curs to snap at my wife in open territory?"

"I didn't actually deserve the backup," I admitted, meeting his gaze without flinching. "I wanted them to smell the truth. I chose to let the mask fall so they would know exactly who was outperforming Riley."

He leaned in, his gaze tracking the pulse in my neck. "I’m aware. But you should have summoned me. Tearing your own reputation down just to scar an enemy is a self-destructive hunt, don't you think?"

"Perhaps," I replied. "Where are we headed?"

"To the Vale Hills Estate. We are bound now, aren't we?" I didn't hesitate. I had signed the registry; I wasn't a wolf who ran from her pack-oath.

"I’m certain. It’s our first moon together as a mated pair," I said, ignoring the heat rising in my cheeks. "But I have a request. Stay neutral in public. I want to shred Blake’s empire with my own claws. I need to know I can stand on my own four feet again."

Connor didn't argue. He seemed intrigued by a female who didn't view him as a mere ladder to a higher rank. He settled back into the shadows, watching me with a look that promised a very long night.

My phone buzzed. It was Lisa. "I have the scent, Ava. I’ve secured the apothecary records—Riley is definitely carrying Blake’s pup. The news is already spreading through the pack links. What’s the next move?"

"Lisa, are you ready to go rogue with me?"

"I’ve been waiting to bite back at Turner Studios for years," she laughed. "But you realize this means war with a Studio Head?"

"Let them howl," I said, hanging up.

The silence in the car was heavy. Connor broke it first. "I heard everything. My senses are... sharper than most. Tell me, Ava, have you always been this dangerously transparent?"

At a stop, he reached out, his thumb grazing my chin to tilt my face toward his. His eyes were like twin pits of ink.

"I will never lie to you, Alpha," I promised. "I don't want there to be any scent of deception between us."

Connor looked stunned for a heartbeat, then his grip softened. "If I were in your position, I would have gone for the throat. Take things even further."

Meanwhile, Blake was drowning in a blood-red rage. Julius Taylor had just sent a messenger—Bel AME was suing Turner Studios for a breach of the sacred showcase contract. The digital pack-feeds were exploding with the scandal.

Riley clutched at Blake’s arm, her eyes wild. "Look at the footage! Ava did this on purpose. She used her gait, her legs—everything that makes her 'legendary'—just to humiliate me!"

"Ava was always a loyal shadow," Blake muttered, though doubt was seeping in.

"Don't be a fool, Blake! If the elders find out you forced an exile to stand in for me, we’re finished. You have to sacrifice her. Tell the media you had no idea. Say Ava went rogue, used a glamour to trick the stylists, and tried to steal my glory out of spite."

Blake hesitated, then nodded. He reached for the phone to call his PR enforcers, but the screen was already flashing.

"Sir! Look at the headlines!" his assistant barked. "Lisa has gone public!"

The news was devastating. Lisa hadn't just leaked the pregnancy; she had posted time-stamped scent-logs and photos proving I had been Riley’s "ghost" for dozens of shows over the last three years. The narrative shifted instantly: I wasn't a thief; I was a victim of pack-slavery.

"Lisa! You traitor!" Blake screamed into the phone when he finally got through to her.

"I’m done feeding the leeches at Turner Studios," Lisa retorted coolly before cutting the line.

Blake began pouring gold into the media outlets, desperate to bury the truth and paint me as a liar. For a moment, the tide turned—hateful comments flooded my social feeds, calling me a "faded stray."

But then, the search rankings shifted. The term #TheRealLunarQueen surged to the top, powered by the sheer evidence Lisa had laid out. The public wasn't buying Blake's lies anymore.

In his private study, Connor Vale watched the digital war unfold. He picked up his own phone, his voice a low, lethal growl to his connections.

"If Ava Hart’s truth is suppressed by Turner’s gold, I will consider your entire network an enemy of the Vale. Keep her name at the top... or I’ll come to collect the debt in person."