Ivy POV:

I walked away, my heels clicking rhythmically on the paved path. I didn't run. Predators don't run from prey.

"Stop!" Clayton yelled.

I paused but didn't turn.

"You can't just walk away!" he shouted. I heard him scrambling to catch up. "Faking your death? That is treason against the pack! You are a deserter!"

I turned slowly, raising an eyebrow. "Treason? Against the Silver Lake Pack? I am not a member of your pack, Clayton."

He stopped a few feet from me, panting. "You were born a Dillard. You belong to us."

"You rejected me," I reminded him calmly. "Five years ago. In the snow. Do you remember what you said?"

He flinched. Of course he remembered.

"I said it was for the best," he said, his voice taking on that manipulative tone I used to mistake for wisdom. Classic gaslighting. "You were weak, Ivy. You would have died from the pressure of being an Alpha's mate. I rejected you to save you."

"You rejected me to mate with Ainsley," I corrected him. "Because she looked the part and I didn't."

"It was eugenics!" he argued, desperate to regain control. "The pack needed strong bloodlines!"

"And how is that working out for you?" I asked, glancing at his frayed cuffs. "Silver Lake looks... tired."

His eyes narrowed. His Alpha ego couldn't handle the insult. He straightened his spine, puffing out his chest. He was going to try it. I knew he was.

"I am the Alpha Heir of the Silver Lake Pack," he boomed, his voice deepening as he channeled his wolf. "And I command you, Omega! Kneel!"

The Alpha's Command.

It's supposed to be crushing. A psychological hammer that bypasses the ears and forces the body to submit.

I felt the wave of his power hit me. It washed over my skin like a weak breeze.

My inner wolf didn't even blink. She just yawned.

I stood perfectly still. I didn't kneel. I didn't bow. I didn't even flinch.

Clayton's eyes bulged. He waited for me to collapse, but I just looked at him with pity.

"Is that it?" I asked.

"How..." he stammered. "How are you standing? I gave you a Command!"

"Your command is weak, Clayton," I said, stepping into his personal space. "It wouldn't even scare a rabbit."

In the hierarchy of wolves, a Command only works downwards. An Alpha can command a Beta or an Omega. But a lower-ranking Alpha cannot command a superior wolf. And definitely not a Luna of a Supreme Pack.

He didn't understand. His brain couldn't process that the "useless Omega" now outranked him by miles.

"You... you are coming with me," he snarled, abandoning the mystical for the physical. "I'm taking you to your father. He'll straighten this out."

He reached out, his hand grabbing for my arm. He wanted to drag me. He wanted to establish physical dominance.

Bad move.

Before his fingers could touch my coat, I moved.

My speed was a blur. I snatched his wrist out of the air.

I squeezed.

Crack.

"Argh!" Clayton screamed, dropping to his knees.

I didn't let go. I torqued his arm behind his back, driving his face into the dirt with zero effort. It was like handling a toddler.

"Don't," I whispered, leaning down so my lips were close to his ear. "Don't ever touch me with your dirty hands."

He whimpered, the pain in his wrist blinding him.

"I am not your mate," I hissed. "I am not your pack member. And I am certainly not your victim anymore."

I released him, shoving him forward. He face-planted into the grass.

I wiped my gloved hand on my coat, as if I had touched something filthy.

"Go home to your fake mate, Clayton," I said. "Tell my father I'm in town. Tell him the 'ghost' is coming for dinner."

I turned and walked to the waiting black limousine at the cemetery gates. I didn't look back at the man groveling in the dirt.

Ivy POV:

I slid into the backseat of the limousine. The interior was cool leather and silence. The driver, a Blood Moon warrior named Marcus, nodded respectfully at me through the rearview mirror.

"To the hotel, Luna?"

"Yes, Marcus. But drive slowly."

My hands were shaking. Not from fear, but from the adrenaline. My white wolf was pacing, agitated. Seeing Clayton had stirred up old memories, old hurts. I needed to anchor myself.

I pulled out my secure phone and dialed.

The screen lit up, and a face appeared.

Collin Richardson.

Even through the pixelated screen, his power was undeniable. He had sharp, predatory features, dark hair, and eyes that burned like molten gold. He was sitting in a high-rise office in New York, the city skyline blurring behind him.

He was the Alpha of the Blood Moon Pack. The Supreme Alpha. And he was my Mate.

"Ivy," he said. His voice was deep, a rumble that settled in my bones and calmed my wolf instantly. But his eyes were narrowing as he looked at me. "You look... agitated. Did he touch you?"

His tone dropped an octave. "Did that mongrel touch you? Do I need to fly there and tear his throat out?"

"Calm down, my love," I said, leaning back. "He tried. He failed. I broke his wrist."

Collin's lips curled into a dark, satisfied smirk. "Good. But I wish I had been there to hear the bone snap."

"You promised to let me handle the first round," I reminded him.

"I know," he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "But my wolf is going crazy knowing you are near them. They hurt you once. If they try again..."

"They can't hurt me, Collin. I'm not that girl anymore."

Suddenly, a small, chaotic blur jumped into the frame.

"Mama!"

My heart melted. Leo, our four-year-old son, shoved his face into the camera. He had Collin's dark hair and my eyes.

"Hi, baby," I cooed.

"Mama, are you hunting?" Leo asked, his eyes wide with excitement. He opened his mouth and tried to growl, showing off his little canines. "Rawr!"

"Yes, Leo. Mama is hunting bad wolves," I said, smiling.

"Bite them!" Leo advised sagely.

"I will," I promised.

Another face appeared behind Leo. It was Alaric, Collin's father and the former Alpha King. He looked stern, leaning on his wolf-head cane, but his eyes were warm when he looked at Leo.

"Ivy," Alaric said. "Did you secure the perimeter?"

"I made contact with Clayton," I reported. "He knows I'm alive. The Silver Lake Pack will be in chaos by tonight."

"Good," Alaric nodded. "Remember, you have the documents?"

"The inheritance papers? Yes."

"That land belongs to you through your mother," Alaric said firmly. "Don't let Donnell Dillard intimidate you. You are a Richardson now. You have the entire Blood Moon Pack behind you. If they try any pack law nonsense, call me. I wrote half those laws."

"I know, Dad," I said, calling him the title he had earned by saving my life five years ago.

"And Ivy?" Collin's face returned to the screen, filling it. His eyes were intense, burning with that possessive fire that defined our bond.

I love you, his voice echoed in my head through our link, even though he was hundreds of miles away. The Supreme Alpha bond ignored distance entirely.

I love you too, I linked back.

"Be careful," he said aloud. "I'm finishing up here. I'll be on the jet in an hour. I'll see you at the 'dinner'."

"I'll be waiting," I said.

I hung up. The connection severed, but the warmth of the bond remained. I touched the mark on my neck, hidden by my hair—the place where Collin had bitten me, claiming me as his.

It pulsed with heat.

I wasn't alone. I had a mate who would burn the world for me, a son who was a born king, and a father-in-law who was a legend.

I looked out the window as the car entered the city center.

"Okay, Silver Lake," I whispered. "Let's see what you've got."

Ivy POV:

I needed armor. Not Kevlar, but silk and velvet.

I stopped at the most exclusive shopping district in Chicago. I needed an outfit for tonight—something that screamed 'money' and 'power.' Something that would make Ainsley feel like the cheap imitation she was.

I was browsing a rack of designer clothes for Leo—little jackets with protective runes stitched into the lining—when my ears pricked up.

Footsteps.

Not shoppers. These were heavy, deliberate steps. Three men.

I didn't turn around. I kept examining a tiny blue vest.

"Ivy."

The voice was familiar, but it lacked the warmth a brother's voice should have.

I turned. Dexter Dillard, my older brother, stood there. He was flanked by two Silver Lake warriors. They looked out of place among the perfumes and jewelry, their cheap suits straining at the shoulders.

Dexter looked terrible. His eyes were bloodshot, and he smelled like stale coffee and anxiety.

"Dexter," I said coolly. "You look like hell."

"You have to come with us," Dexter said, his voice low. "Now. Father is furious. The Elders are convening a trial."

"Fast work," I mused, glancing at the warriors. "Did Clayton call in my license plate number, or did he just follow the limo?"

"Clayton told us everything," Dexter hissed, confirming my suspicion. "You made a mistake coming back to this city."

"A trial?" I laughed. "For what? Surviving?"

"For desertion! For faking your death!" Dexter looked around nervously to see if anyone was watching. "Just come quietly, Ivy. Don't make a scene."

I turned back to the clothes. "I'm busy."

"Ivy!" Dexter stepped forward. "Do you have any idea what you've done? Ainsley... when she heard you were alive, she collapsed. She's heartbroken! She's sick, Ivy. She's so fragile."

I spun around, my patience snapping.

"Fragile?" I stepped into Dexter's face. "The woman who stole my mate and watched me bleed out in the snow is fragile?"

"She didn't know!" Dexter lied. "We all thought you were dead!"

"Liar," I said. My voice was calm, but deadly. "Five years ago. That night. I was freezing. I was dying. I reached out to you, Dexter. Through the link. I screamed for you."

Dexter's face went white.

"I felt you," I whispered. "I felt you hear me. And then... you blocked me."

The warriors behind him shifted uncomfortably. Blocking a pack member in distress was a serious violation of the Wolf Code. It was cowardly.

"Father ordered it," Dexter whispered, his voice trembling. "He said... he said if you were rejected, you were a shame to the family. He ordered us to cut the link."

"And you listened," I said. "You chose your daddy's approval over your sister's life."

"I had no choice!"

"We always have a choice," I said.

Dexter reached out to grab my arm. "We're leaving. Now."

My white wolf snarled. I could rip his throat out right here. It would be self-defense. But that was too easy. I wanted to break them slowly.

I sidestepped his grab seamlessly.

"I will come," I said, smoothing down my coat. "Not because you ordered me, but because I want to see the look on Donnell's face."

I tossed the blue vest to the sales clerk and handed her a black credit card—the kind with no limit.

"Keep this for me," I told her.

I turned back to Dexter.

"Lead the way, brother," I said, my smile not reaching my eyes. "But remember one thing: it's easy to invite a predator into your house. It's much harder to get them to leave."