CHAPTER 9: THE ALPHAS’ COUNCIL

The Spring Alphas’ Council convened on a Thursday morning inside the Great Hall of Northern Hollow the same ancient stone chamber where Northern packs had settled conflicts for over four centuries.

I stepped in at exactly 9 AM.

I had chosen the charcoal power suit. The Voss family pearls rested cool against my throat. In my hand, I carried a slim briefcase holding forty-seven pages detailing the Sterling Pack’s debt portfolio under Voss Capital.

I left the crown behind.

The hall was already packed.

All eleven Alpha families of the Northern Hollow sat around the long, curved oak table its surface worn smooth by time since it had first been placed there in 1631. The Sterling Pack. The Hallow Pack. The Vance Pack. The Greyridge Pack. The Morr Pack. Eleven in total. Eleven Alphas. Their Lunas at their sides. Their elders standing just behind them, silent and watchful.

Caelum Sterling occupied the Sterling seat.

Isolde sat beside him.

And on her head

She wore the 1847 Voss wedding crown.

My grandmother’s crown.

Displayed openly. Here. In the Great Hall. Before every Alpha family in Northern Hollow.

I allowed myself one heartbeat to look at it.

Then I turned my gaze away.

The Council Master Tobias Hallow, an aging Alpha with greying fur who had overseen the Spring Council for thirty-one years—called the assembly to order.

They moved through routine matters first. Border disagreements. Hunting territory rights. A formal marriage agreement between the Morr and Greyridge packs.

Then, at precisely 10:47 AM, Tobias reached the final entry on the agenda.

He lifted an aged sheet of Council parchment, the edges brittle with time.

In the formal Old Tongue, his voice carried across the chamber: “A creditor petition has been filed under the Old Law. The petitioner: Voss Capital of the Free Cities. The matter: the outstanding debt of the Sterling Pack.”

Silence followed.

The kind that presses against your ears.

The Great Hall stilled completely.

Tobias raised his head, scanning the long curve of the table.

Then he spoke again, still in the Old Tongue. “Let the petitioner step forward.”

I rose.

Every step I took echoed softly against the cold stone floor as I walked into the center of the hall.

I stopped in the open space before the table, where all eleven Alpha families could see me clearly.

I placed the briefcase onto the old Council presentation stand.

Clicked it open.

And spoke.

“In the name of the Old Law, I stand before the Spring Alphas’ Council. I am Ariadne Voss Director and sole owner of Voss Capital of the Free Cities. I present the matter of the Sterling Pack’s outstanding debt.”

My voice was steady. Controlled. Just as my grandmother had trained me since I was three years old.

A beat passed.

Down the table, Caelum Sterling did not move.

At his side, Isolde still wearing my grandmother’s crown had gone pale.

I began the presentation.

The same way I had done it for five years with Voss Capital clients clean, direct, without wasted breath.

I laid out the fourteen active loans tied to the Sterling Pack.

The total principal: two hundred and thirteen million Free Cities credits.

Then the interest. The penalties. Every accumulated charge over time.

Three full years of ignored renewal notices.

Each one documented.

Each one undeniable.

Then I delivered the final figure.

The amount owed under the Old Law.

Two hundred and sixty-seven million Free Cities credits.

No reaction yet.

Then I presented their numbers.

The Sterling Pack’s yearly revenue.

Thirty-one million Free Cities credits.

I let that sit.

The weight of it filled the room, heavier than stone.

Two hundred and sixty-seven million owed.

Thirty-one million earned per year.

No one at that table needed help doing the math.

The Sterling Pack was finished.

Not in ninety days.

Not in nine hundred.

Not ever.

Tobias Hallow turned his gaze toward Caelum Sterling.

His voice remained formal, bound by tradition. “Alpha Sterling. Does your pack contest the petitioner’s accounting?”

The silence stretched.

Long enough to feel deliberate.

Then Caelum stood.

Slowly.

His chair scraped softly against the floor.

He looked straight at me from across the hall.

When he spoke, his voice was quiet but it carried.

“The Sterling Pack does not dispute the accounting.”

A pause.

Then, more firmly: “The figures are accurate.”

Not a single sound followed.

No murmurs. No whispers.

Nothing.

Tobias lifted the parchment again, the faint crackle echoing in the stillness.

“Under the Old Law,” he declared, “the Council must now rule. Any pack unable to satisfy a verified creditor petition of this magnitude must relinquish governance of its assets to the creditor until such time as the debt is repaid.”

The words settled like a verdict already decided.

Then he looked at me.

“Petitioner. Do you claim governance of the Sterling Pack’s assets?”

I met Caelum Sterling’s eyes across the hall.

Then I looked at Isolde.

At the crown resting on her head.

My grandmother’s crown.

And I answered, clear enough for every Alpha in Northern Hollow to hear:

“I do.”