Chapter 7

The heavy oak doors of Alpha Garreth’s private study slam shut behind me, shaking the dust from the brass pipes along the wall. The space smells of bitter wood ash and old liquor.

Garreth stands near the fireplace, his massive hands clenched into white-knuckled fists. The shadow of his large frame stretches across the desk, blocking out the pale light filtering through the high window.

"You think you are clever, don't you?" Garreth growls, his voice thick with raw malice. "You stand in my hall, in front of the most dangerous pack in the north, and hand them my numbers like a common traitor."

He steps toward me, his boots heavy against the floorboards. His dark Alpha aura surges outward, hitting the air around us like a sudden drop in temperature.

It presses against my shoulders, trying to force my spine to snap, trying to drive me to my knees on the cold floor.

"You are nothing in this house, Lyra," he snarls, leaning down until his dark eyes are inches from mine. "You are a defective servant who lives on my charity. I gave you food, shelter, and a place to stay when your mother left you behind. If I order my guards to drop you into the river tonight, no one will ever search for your body."

I stand firm, my chest rising and falling in a steady pattern. My lungs ache under the invisible pressure of his command field, but my mind stays detached, analyzing his movements.

He is breathing too quickly. His jaw twitches on the left side, a clear sign that his anger is hiding deep panic. He knows his trade network is ruined, and he knows I hold the key to his fraud.

"If I disappear tonight, Alpha," I say, keeping my voice flat and smooth, "the Obsidian delegation will notice. Silas Blackwood is not a fool. He saw the ledger numbers I spoke about in the hall. If I am missing tomorrow morning, he will know you killed me to cover up your debts."

Garreth raises his right hand, his fingers curling into a heavy fist. "I do not care what he thinks in his mind. This is my territory!"

"Then you should start acting like it is your territory," a low voice cuts through the tension from the open doorway.

Silas Blackwood steps into the room, his long dark coat swaying slightly with his smooth stride. He does not knock, and he does not ask for permission. He walks past the stone archway with the quiet confidence of a man who owns every room he enters.

The air in the study shifts instantly, the heavy weight of Garreth’s aura breaking apart like mist under a sudden wind.

Garreth freezes, dropping his hand back to his side as he turns toward the intruder. "This is a private pack matter, Supreme Alpha. You have no right to enter my study without an escort."

"I heard shouting down the hall," Silas replies smoothly, stepping between Garreth and me. He does not turn his back on Garreth, but his position effectively cuts off the Alpha's access to me.

"I assumed we were finalizing our trade agreement, but it seems you are busy threatening the only person in this building who understands your financial accounting."

Garreth’s face turns dark red, his nostrils flaring. "She is a member of my pack! She belongs to Blood Moon, and her fate rests in my hands under territorial law."

"She is an asset," Silas corrects him, his dark eyes shifting to lock onto mine. "An asset you have clearly wasted for years. You claim she is a burden to your storehouse, yet she managed to untangle seven years of missing border receipts in less than five minutes."

Silas turns slightly, giving me a long, evaluating look. There is no fake sympathy in his eyes, no pity for the bruises or the worn cloth of my dress.

He looks at me the way an elite commander looks at a rare weapon sitting on a common shelf.

"I am willing to sign the revised grain agreement tomorrow morning," Silas says, turning his focus back to Garreth. "On one condition. You will transfer ownership of this servant to the Obsidian delegation as part of the initial settlement fee. We need trained scribes at the fortress to overlook our supply lines."

Garreth sneers, stepping toward his desk. "You want my servant? You come into my house, insult my leadership, and demand my domestic staff?"

"I am offering you an easy way out of your debt, Garreth," Silas says, his tone turning razor-sharp. "You hand over the girl, and I ignore the forged trade entries you presented to my envoys earlier tonight. If you refuse, I leave before dawn, and I make sure every pack along the northern border receives a copy of your real storehouse balances."

Garreth’s hands tremble on top of the desk wood. He looks at Silas, then glances over at me. His mind is racing, weighing his pride against total financial ruin.

He knows he cannot win a war against the Obisidian Pack, and he knows his own elders will remove him if the full truth of his greed comes out.

"Fine," Garreth spits, his voice bitter with defeat. "Take the defective trash. She is nothing but an extra mouth to feed anyway. Get her out of my sight before sunrise."

Silas nods once, looking back at me. "Collect your things, Lyra. We leave when the morning sun breaks over the tree line."

"Not yet," I say, stepping out from behind Silas to address Garreth directly.

Both men stop, turning their attention to me in surprise.

"You do not get to throw me away like trash, Garreth," I say, my voice steady and clear in the quiet room. "This is not a rescue, and it is not a slave transfer. I am agreeing to go with the Obsidian delegation as a political envoy to oversee the settlement calculations."

Garreth laughs harshly. "You are a servant with no wolf! You do not negotiate terms with an Alpha!"

"I negotiate because I hold the rest of your records in my memory," I reply, taking a slow step toward his desk. "If I am leaving Blood Moon, I take what belongs to my family. I want my mother’s iron chest from the lower storage room, completely untouched and unlocked."

Garreth’s eyes narrow slightly. "That chest contains worthless personal trash from a dead line. It has been locked in the basement for ten years."

"Then it costs you nothing to hand it over," I answer, keeping my gaze locked onto his face. "If that chest is sitting on the transport vessel when the Obsidian guards load their gear tomorrow, I will ensure the northern trade reports remain quiet. If it is missing, I might remember a few more missing numbers regarding your rogue wolf contacts."

Garreth stares at me, his breath hitching as he realizes I am holding his throat in a tight grip. He has no moves left on the board.

"Take the damn box," Garreth growls, turning his back on us and pouring himself a glass of liquor. "Get out of my house."

I turn and walk toward the doorway without looking back. Silas follows close behind, his light steps keeping pace with mine as we step out into the cool, silent gallery.

"You drive a hard bargain for someone with no military force behind her," Silas says quietly as we walk side by side down the stone path.

"Force is noisy," I answer, looking up at the high arched windows where the morning light is just beginning to show. "Strategy is quiet. He thought he was keeping me caged, but now he knows that he was just holding the door shut until I found the right key."

Silas lets out a short, quiet breath that sounds almost like a laugh, his dark eyes gleaming in the dim lighting.

The door to my past is closed forever, and my real war is just beginning.

Tab 9