Chapter 8
Angelo POV
I left the splintered remains of the Luna's Suite behind, my heavy footsteps echoing down the corridor. My chest was still heaving, my scent—a thick, aggressive cloud of musk and sweat—dominating the hallway, suffocating the lingering traces of Alessandra's winter frost.
My inner wolf was pacing furiously in my mind, snapping its jaws. *She called us a Rogue,* the beast snarled, its pride deeply wounded by the wolfless girl's defiance.
*Quiet,* I commanded it, forcing a smirk onto my face.
Alessandra was bluffing. She had to be. A defective, wolfless burden demanding a Rejection? Threatening an Alpha with a Blood Oath? It was laughable. She was throwing a tantrum because I was replacing her. Without the protection of the Stone Pack, she would be torn apart by the first Rogue that caught her scent. She knew it, and I knew it. I had put her in her place. She would stay in the shadows, manage the ledgers, and fund my empire just as she was meant to.
Feeling the intoxicating rush of a victor, I strode toward the Elder Wing. It was time to solidify my real future.
I pushed open the heavy mahogany doors to Nonna Maria's suite. The room was dimly lit, the air thick with the oppressive, stale scent of dried herbs and mothballs. My grandmother sat in her high-backed armchair near the unlit fireplace, her frail hands resting on her lap.
I walked straight to the antique liquor cabinet, pouring myself a generous measure of amber bourbon into a heavy crystal glass.
"It's handled," I announced, taking a satisfying sip. The liquid burned pleasantly down my throat. "Andra threw her little fit, but she knows where she stands. She'll fall in line."
Nonna Maria didn't say a word. She just stared at the cold hearth.
"Now, we move forward," I continued, turning to face her, my chest swelling with Alpha pride. "I want the Luna Ceremony for Cecelia planned immediately. Book the grandest estate in the valley. Hire the most renowned Pack bards. I want a feast that will make the Alpha King himself envious."
I took another sip, already picturing the absolute power I would wield. "I want every Pack in North America to see the new strength of the Stone Pack. Spare no expense. Pull it directly from the Pack's public accounts. Alessandra's Moonstone trust will cover it ten times over."
I waited for her nod of approval, for the proud smile she always gave me when I asserted my dominance.
Instead, Nonna Maria's heartbeat—usually a steady, ancient rhythm—suddenly spiked into a frantic, erratic flutter. The scent of mothballs in the room was instantly overpowered by the acrid, sour stench of pure, unadulterated terror. The color drained from her wrinkled face, leaving her looking like a corpse. Her hands began to tremble violently against her lap.
My smirk vanished. My inner wolf pricked its ears, sensing the sudden shift in the room's atmosphere.
"What is it?" I snapped, my Alpha aura flaring slightly in annoyance. "Don't tell me you're getting cold feet about the human. Cecelia's father is a judge; the political leverage alone is worth the ceremony."
"Angelo..." her voice was a frail, breathless whisper, barely audible over the sound of her racing heart.
"Speak, Nonna," I demanded, stepping closer.
She looked up at me, her cloudy eyes wide with a panic I had never seen in her before. "The trust... the Moonstone trust..."
"What about it?" I growled, my patience wearing thin. "Just authorize the transfer."
"It's locked, Angelo," she choked out, a tear spilling over her pale cheek. "It's completely locked. Alessandra is the only signatory. We can't touch a single dime of it without her blood signature."
I froze. The bourbon suddenly tasted like ash in my mouth. "Then we use the Pack's reserves until I force her to sign it over. How much is in the public account?"
Nonna Maria let out a pathetic, broken sob. She shrank back into her chair, terrified of the Alpha standing before her.
"The public accounts..." She swallowed hard, her voice cracking. "There is only three thousand dollars left."
The heavy crystal glass slipped from my numb fingers.
It hit the marble floor, shattering into a hundred glittering pieces.
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