Kimberly POV:

The Kramer Hotel ballroom reeked of money and musk.

I stood at the top of the staircase. Below, Graves held court, looking magnificent and stupid. Alex clung to him in a white dress that screamed "virginal bride," playing the doe-eyed victim.

I didn't just walk down the stairs. I unleashed.

I dropped my suppression shields. The aura of the White Wolf—cold, ancient, and terrifying—flooded the room. The music died. Conversations strangled mid-sentence. The air grew heavy with the scent of ozone and snow.

I descended. The red silk flowed like liquid blood. Graves looked up, his drink pausing halfway to his lips. For a second, the fog in his eyes cleared, replaced by raw, confused lust.

Alex grip tightened on his arm, her claws snagging the fabric.

"Kimberly," Graves said, his voice tight. "You're late. And you look... aggressive."

"Happy Birthday, Alex," I projected my voice, ignoring him.

I snapped my fingers. A waiter presented a velvet box.

Alex’s eyes lit up. Greed was her defining trait. "You shouldn't have! Is it the car keys?"

"Open it."

She tore the lid off.

A scream pierced the silence. She scrambled back, dropping the box.

A dead crow rolled out onto the polished floor. Its neck was snapped. In the Old Tongue, it was a declaration: Traitor. Leave or Die.

"What is this?!" Graves roared, shielding Alex. "Are you insane?"

"I didn't pack it, Graves," I said, loudly enough for the Board to hear. "You did. Don't you remember? Last week, you said, 'Give the Rogue exactly what she deserves.'"

"Liar!" Alex shrieked, tears flowing instantly. "He loves me!"

The investors murmured. Graves looked frantic. He felt his control slipping.

"Kneel!" Graves bellowed, invoking the Alpha's Command. "Apologize!"

The waiters dropped to the floor. Weaker wolves whimpered. The psychic weight slammed down.

I stood motionless. I didn't even blink.

"I kneel for the Moon," I said, my golden eyes boring into his. "You’re just a man in a suit."

I turned and walked away. Behind me, glass shattered against the wall.

"Dustin!" Graves screamed at his Beta. "Bankrupt her! Destroy her companies! I want her on the street by morning!"

I smiled into the night air. I’d sold the companies yesterday. By morning, he’d be buying empty shells.

Kimberly POV:

The financial ambush was a bloodbath. Graves poured forty million into a hostile takeover of my fashion label, not realizing I’d already stripped the IP and client lists. He bought a sinking ship.

I was in the parking garage, heading to my rental, when the hairs on my neck stood up.

Move.

I spun, but the boot caught me in the stomach. I slammed into the concrete, tasting copper.

Two Enforcers stepped out of the shadows.

"Alpha says you need a lesson in respect."

They didn't use magic. They used fists. It was a calculated beating—enough to bruise, not enough to kill.

Shift! My wolf screamed. Kill them!

No. If I shifted, I’d expose the White Wolf lineage. Graves would lock me up as a breeding mare. I had to take it.

I curled into a ball, protecting my head. A boot cracked against my ribs.

"That's enough," Graves' voice crackled from a phone in the Enforcer's pocket. He was listening. The sick bastard.

The Enforcers left me bleeding on the oil-stained concrete.

I lay there, breathing through the agony. My accelerated healing was already knitting the bone, itching like fire.

I dragged myself up, spitting blood. I pulled a burner phone from my bra.

I dialed a number whispered in back alleys.

"Rogue Alliance," a rough voice answered.

"I have a job," I rasped. "And I have twenty million dollars of Graves' money to pay for it."

Kimberly POV:

Graves dragged me back into his orbit with a legal summons. Pack Law Section 4: Mandatory Attendance. If I didn't show at the Charity Gala, I’d be declared a deserter.

I wore black armor—high-necked, long-sleeved.

Graves met me at the door. He looked haggard. The forty-million-dollar loss had stung.

"Smile," he hissed, gripping my bruised arm. "Harrison is watching."

Alpha Harrison. A lecherous old moneybag from the North.

"Harrison," Graves smoothed his voice. "You remember Kimberly? We’re looking for liquidity. Perhaps Kimberly could give you a private tour of the gardens? She’s very... accommodating."

My stomach turned. He was pimping me out to cover his losses.

"I’m not property, Harrison," I said icily. "And I bite."

I yanked my arm free and headed for the restroom.

Alex was there, applying lipstick. She looked like death warmed over—grey skin, tremors. The Rogue Rot was eating her alive.

"You look terrible," she rasped.

"And you smell like a corpse," I countered.

Alex laughed, a brittle sound. She stepped closer. "Enjoy your freedom, Kimberly. Graves thinks selling you to Harrison is punishment. I have a better idea."

"Your kidneys," she whispered, eyes gleaming. "Rogue Rot causes organ failure. I need a transplant. A high-vitality donor. An Alpha bloodline."

"You're delusional."

"Graves already agreed," she smiled. "He thinks it's 'silver poisoning.' He’d do anything to save me."

A chill went down my spine. This wasn't just a threat. It was a plan.