Chapter 2
The grand hall was filled with a jovial amusement.
Sarah leaned heavily into Olaf's chest, laughing so hard her shoulders shook.
Olaf simply stared down at me with icy indifference, as if watching a clown put on a cheap performance.
"Let her make her little scene," Olaf said. "She'll come crawling back to me in disgrace before three days are up."
He was absolutely certain I couldn't survive without him.
He was convinced that without the backing of his pack, I was nothing but a loser.
I didn't utter a single word to correct him, merely watching his performance in silence.
Then, I turned on my heel and pushed open the massive front doors of the estate.
A biting wind swept through the city this November.
Yet, the freezing air outside felt infinitely cleaner than the suffocating atmosphere of that gilded mansion.
At the bottom of the grand stone steps, a sleek, midnight-black stretched Maybach sat idling in total silence.
Its license plate bore the singular digit "1," the absolute pinnacle of prestige and power in the nation.
Inside the open doorway, Olaf and his pack of sycophants instantly choked on their laughter. Their eyes widened in sheer terror.
I stepped down the stairs in my high heels, my movements entirely unhurried as I walked toward the luxury vehicle.
The chauffeur stepped forward, bowing respectfully as he opened the door for me.
I slid into the plush interior, and the heavy door shut with a solid thud, completely severing the stunned, terrified stares left standing in the cold.
The interior of the sedan was perfectly warm, completely shutting out the brutal winter outside.
Asher Lyle was leaning back against the fine leather seating, his long legs elegantly crossed.
He was casually flicking a solid gold lighter between his fingers, watching the blue flame dance and die over and over.
"So, you walked out like that?" Asher asked, his deep, baritone voice carrying a lazy, amused undertone.
I nudged my suitcase into the corner of the floorboard and pulled slightly at my tight collar. "What else was I supposed to do? Stay there and watch them act like animals in heat?"
Asher let out a soft chuckle. With a sharp click of the lighter, the flame went out.
"I honestly expected you to snap that woman's neck," Asher murmured, his deep eyes gleaming with a lethal intensity in the dim light. "Or, if you prefer, I can have the Bloodfangs roll in right now and level that entire estate to the ground."
He spoke of mass slaughter as if he were discussing the weather.
I simply shook my head, leaning my head back against the leather headrest to have a rest. "That would be far too easy on him.
"I want him to watch the very empire he takes so much pride in crumble piece by piece.
"I want him to lose absolutely everything until he is brought to his knees, begging for a death he won't be granted."
I opened my eyes, casting a gaze as cold and piercing as steel.
Asher turned his head, studying my face with an intense look.
"Your wish is my command, my queen," he whispered, leaning in close enough for his warm breath to brush against my ear. "Though, it seems you left a minor detail behind."
I knit my brows slightly.
"My mother's bone ring," I said.
That ring wasn't a sentimental piece of jewelry. It was the only key to the core werewolf vault of the whole country.
A fool like Olaf had absolutely no concept of its true value, tossing it to Sarah as if it were nothing but a piece of antique jewelry.
"I will go and retrieve it myself tomorrow," I said, my voice leaving no room for doubt.
Asher didn't press the matter further. He simply signaled the driver, and the car glided smoothly into the glittering night.
*****
The following morning, I dressed in a sharply tailored black power suit. Stepping into my signature stilettos, I walked directly into the grand lobby of Blackwood Group headquarters.
The moment the receptionist caught sight of me, the color drained completely from her face.
Her fingers scrambled frantically toward the landline to call the executive suite, but I stopped her dead in her tracks with a single, icy look. I walked straight past her to the private executive elevator, hitting the button for the penthouse floor.
The moment the elevator doors slid open at the top, the shrill laughter of Sarah echoed down the corridor.
"Yes, get rid of that hideous leather couch and replace it with a plush pink velvet one," Sarah was shouting. "Olaf explicitly told me this entire office is going to be my personal nursery from now on."
I stepped out of the elevator cab, only to find my executive office completely desecrated.
The wall where the world map belonged had been painted over in a gaudy, sickening macaron hue.
The strategic corporate proposals I had personally spent weeks drafting and approving were scattered across the floor like garbage, covered in dusty boot prints.
Sarah was perched in my leather chair, barking orders at a few workers as they moved the furniture.
The moment she noticed me standing by the door, her smug smile faltered for a fraction of a second before she thrust her chin out arrogantly.
"Oh, look who it is," Sarah sneered. "If it isn't our dear, displaced former assistant."
She went out of her way to emphasize the word "assistant" to mock me.
"What's the matter, Augusta? Did you find out the hard way that you can't survive a single day out on the streets, and now you're back to beg for mercy?" She stroked her completely flat stomach, her eyes brimming with a sickening triumph.
I completely ignored her pathetic attempts at a provocation, walking directly up to the massive mahogany desk.
"Give me the ring," I said, holding out my palm as my eyes locked onto the bone ring on her finger.
She instinctively curled her fingers inward, but she quickly recovered, letting out a sharp bark of laughter. "What ring? This happens to be the token of commitment Olaf gave to me.
"You're nothing but a low-born half-breed. Do you honestly think you deserve a masterpiece like this?"
She rose to her feet and stepped into my space. With Olaf in her corner, she was practically dripping with arrogance.
She declared, "Get this through your thick skull, Augusta.
"I am the future matriarch of Blackwood Group now, and the child I am carrying holds the most sacred, pure bloodline in the entire pack.
"If you know what's good for you, you'll get down on your knees right now and lick the dust off my shoes. If you do a good job, maybe I'll convince Olaf to throw you some scraps so you don't starve."
Looking at her smug face, I found the whole thing utterly absurd.
"A pure bloodline?" I let out a mocking laugh. "With your pathetic, bottom-tier genetics, you honestly think you can produce a purebred heir? You'll be lucky if you don't pop out some mutated freak."