His Unwanted Mate: The Secret Silvermoon Heir

Isla POV

"A Gamma aura?" I repeated, my voice dropping to a deadly, icy whisper. "Justin, you speak so proudly of strength, yet you are completely blind to the pathetic reality of your own Pack. Bloodfang isn't a wolf pack anymore. It's a hollow shell."

His eyes narrowed dangerously, a low growl rumbling in his chest. "Watch your mouth, Isla."

"Or what?" I challenged. I didn't raise my voice, but I projected a sudden, suffocating stillness that made his Inner Wolf instinctively flinch. "Will you cut off my funds? Oh, wait. You can't."

I leaned forward slightly, stripping away his last shred of dignity. "Your Pack's vault couldn't even produce a hundred thousand dollars if your life depended on it. For the past year, while you were out finding your 'soul resonance,' I have been the one keeping this crumbling estate from collapsing. My dowry put the food on your Warriors' tables."

Justin stiffened. The arrogant swagger vanished, replaced by a defensive rigidity.

I tilted my head, locking my unyielding gaze with his. "And your mother, Luna Bertha? Those Lycanthrope Elixirs from Doctor Fritz Klein cost ten thousand dollars a pill. My dowry paid for every single one of them to keep her failing heart beating. You brought back a 'hero'? Let's see if her battlefield scraps can pay the medical bills."

Justin's face flushed a dark, ugly red. His fragile, unearned Alpha pride shattered violently against the cold, hard truth. He had been playing the victorious king, completely ignoring the fact that his throne was built entirely on my gold.

"You dare throw your money in my face?!" he snarled, his voice vibrating with a desperate, heavy wave of an Alpha's Command. It was meant to force me to my knees.

But the invisible pressure washed over my dormant White Wolf like a light, meaningless breeze. She didn't even blink.

Seeing that I was entirely unaffected, panic flickered in his eyes before he masked it with blind rage. "I am the Alpha! I am informing you of a Royal Decree, not asking for your permission. Brenna is moving in, and that is final!"

Unable to face my piercing stare any longer, he spun on his heel and stormed out, slamming the heavy oak door behind him. The suffocating reek of cheap spices and metallic blood trailed after him like a plague.

As his furious footsteps faded down the hall, the fragile, unsealed mate-bond in my chest gave a pathetic, dying throb. It was the biological instinct of a wolf losing its mate. But deep within my soul, my White Wolf let out a low, rumbling scoff of pure disdain. She felt no heartbreak—only relief. He wasn't worthy of us.

A soft, terrified sniffle broke the silence.

Effa Rose, my loyal wolfless maid, slipped out from the shadows of the adjoining dressing room. Her round face was streaked with tears, her eyes red and swollen from witnessing the humiliation I had just endured.

"Oh, My Lady," she wept, dropping to her knees beside my chair and clutching my skirt. "How could the Alpha be so cruel? After everything you've done for this Pack... After all the blood and sweat you poured into them..."

"Do not call him that, Effa," I said quietly. My voice was completely devoid of the sorrow she expected.

I reached up, brushing my fingertips against the smooth, unblemished skin of my neck. "He is no true mate of mine."

Effa blinked through her tears, staring at my bare neck. "But... the Moon Goddess... you are married..."

"A year of marriage," I murmured, a cold, mocking smile returning to my lips. "He left for the border the day after our wedding. He never gave me his Marking. Our bond was never sealed by blood. To me, he is nothing more than a stranger."

Effa choked on a sob, her fear for our future overwhelming her. "But your mother's dying wish... She wanted you safe here. She told you to stay hidden away from the wars and the bloodshed."

The sudden mention of my mother sent a violent jolt through my mind.

In a flash, the opulent walls of the Luna's Suite melted away. I was dragged back to the nightmare. I saw the burning ruins of the Silvermoon Pack. I could smell the suffocating stench of Rogues, the metallic tang of fresh blood, and the searing, unnatural burn of Silver weapons piercing wolf flesh. I saw my father, Alpha Arthur Crawford, and my brave brothers, their bodies torn apart defending our home.

And then, my mother's desperate, tear-soaked face flashed before me. She had smeared dirt on my face, screaming at me to suppress my aura, forcing me to hide my rare White Wolf bloodline just to survive the massacre.

The memory didn't bring tears. It brought a lethal, icy clarity that froze the last drop of warmth in my veins.

I was done hiding. I was done playing the weak, wolfless victim for a Pack of ungrateful leeches.

I reached out and firmly tapped Effa's forehead, snapping her out of her crying fit.

"Safety is an illusion, Effa," I said, my tone absolute, leaving no room for argument or fear. "Dry your tears and go to my private vault."

"M-My Lady?" she stammered, rubbing her forehead, stunned by the sudden shift in my aura.

"Bring me the Dowry Ledger," I commanded, standing up to my full height. The weak, heartbroken wife was gone. "Every last cent of the ten million dollars I brought to this pathetic Pack is leaving with me. I am going to watch them starve."