"It's about the vibes. Amber needs peace. Your energy is... too intense. You're a healer, always radiating that sterile, clinical aura. It stresses her out."

I felt like I had been slapped in the face.

My power-the healing energy that kept Cornelia's arthritis from crippling her, the power that kept the warriors from going feral on full moons-was now a "burden."

Jackson pulled an envelope from his coat pocket and shoved it in my face.

"I booked you a ticket on a commercial flight. It takes off in three hours."

With trembling hands, I took the envelope and looked at the ticket.

Economy class. Middle seat. Two layovers. It was practically a cargo flight.

"You want the Luna of the Dorsey Pack to fly coach, while a rogue takes my private jet?" I asked.

"She is not a rogue!" Jackson snarled. A flash of gold ignited in his eyes-the hallmark of his inner Alpha wolf rising. "She is an honored guest. And she is... full of potential."

He shot a quick glance at Amber's stomach.

"This conversation is over."

Jackson, I reached out to him through our mind-link. Jackson, please tell me you're not doing this. Tell me you're not humiliating me in front of the pack.

Silence.

He blocked me.

My husband, the Alpha of the pack, had thrown up a mental wall against his own mate. It was the ultimate, silent rejection.

"We have to go," Jackson said, turning his back on me. "Haley, don't be late to the hotel. You'll need to iron your evening gown when you get there."

He walked up the stairs, took Amber's hand, and kissed her cheek. It was a tender gesture he hadn't shown me in years.

The pack warriors-men I had healed, men whose children I had helped deliver-all looked away.

They followed their Alpha. They followed the money. Or rather, they followed the man they thought controlled the money.

The cabin door hissed shut.

I stood alone on the concrete. The acrid stench of aviation fuel assaulted my nose.

The plane began to taxi. I stared at the logo on the tail-the Dorsey Wolf. I was the one who paid the painters for that.

Something inside me snapped.

No, not snapped. Unleashed. My inner wolf, usually calm and pristine white, rose to her paws and shook out her fur.

She didn't howl; she growled. It was a low, deafening vibration that rattled straight to my marrow.

I looked down at the economy ticket in my hand.

Then, I looked at the black American Express card in my wallet.

The card linked to the master trust fund. The very trust fund that financed their private jet, their mansion, their cars, and the food on their table.

I pulled out my phone. The screen was freezing against my cheek.

"Yes, Dr. Hogan?" my private banker answered on the first ring.

"Cancel the flight plan for the Gulfstream," I said.

"Ma'am? They're already taxiing."

"I know. Revoke their flight clearance. Ground them at the first refueling stop. Cut off their credit lines. Cut everything."

"Everything, Dr. Hogan? All accounts?"

I watched the plane lift off and disappear into the overcast sky. "I just remembered a document sitting in my safe-the one Jackson signed in desperation five years ago."

I never wanted to use it. I never wanted to be that kind of person.

But he made me into this person.

"It's all over," I said. "The game is over."

Haley's POV:

The Packhouse was dead silent.

Normally, this place was loud and chaotic. Young wolves sparring in the yard, Omegas clattering plates in the kitchen, fifty werewolves living under one roof creating a constant, low thrum of energy.

But most of the high-ranking members had gone to the summit, and the rest were out on patrol.

I walked through the grand foyer. My heels clicked sharply against the marble floors. I had paid to import these from Italy because Cornelia claimed the old hardwood hurt her sensitive feet.

I stepped into the kitchen. The staff, mostly low-ranking Omegas who couldn't shift, looked up in sheer terror. They were eating scraps-minced meat and dry bread.

"Where is the roast?" I asked, looking at the empty counters.

"Madam Cornelia took the best cuts of meat to her room before heading to the airport," a young girl named Sarah whispered. "She said... she said the servants didn't deserve Wagyu."

I closed my eyes. I had specifically bought that beef for tonight's staff appreciation dinner.

My phone vibrated. It was a video call request from Jackson.

I accepted it.

Jackson's face filled the screen. He was flushed and looked furious. The background noise was the chaotic buzz of an airport terminal.

"Why is my card declining?!" he yelled. People in the background turned to look. "We landed in Kansas to refuel, and the pilot said the fuel account is frozen!"

"Is it?" I asked, picking up an apple and examining it closely. "What a shame."

"Haley, fix it now! Amber is hungry. She needs organic venison, and the airport restaurant won't take the corporate card."

Amber's face appeared over his shoulder. She looked pale, but malice glinted in her eyes.

"Oh, Haley," she cooed, her tone dripping with fake sympathy. "Did you forget to pay the bills again? You know how forgetful you get when you're stressed. Maybe you should transfer the authorization to Jackson. He is the Alpha, after all."

"Authorization requires the account holder's biometric scan," I said calmly. "And that's me."

"Then approve it!" Jackson roared. "I command you!"

I felt the heavy pressure of the Alpha Command.

In the werewolf world, the Alpha's voice is law. It can force other wolves into submission, making them bare their necks and fall to their knees.

I felt a wave of pressure wash over me, trying to force my head down.

But I was a Master Healer. My spirit had been forged through years of wrestling with death itself. My mental shields were impenetrable.

I took a bite of the apple. Crunch.

I stared dead into the camera. I didn't bow, and I didn't flinch.

"No," I said.

Jackson froze. The sheer shock on his face was incredibly satisfying. For an Alpha Command to fail was exceedingly rare. It either meant the Alpha was weak, or the one being commanded possessed extraordinary power.

He chose to believe the former was impossible.

"You... you dare defy my command?" he stammered.

"You broke our contract, Jackson," I said. "And I'm not just talking about our marriage license. I mean the original agreement, the one you signed in red ink. You abandoned that loyalty on the tarmac today."