Inside the Silvermoon Pack's core office, the air was suffocating.
The rage of a high-ranking Lycan radiated through the room like a physical blade, making the low-level wolves outside tremble.
Thud! A thick stack of documents was slammed onto the floor.
Alpha Silas sat in his leather chair, his golden-brown eyes swirling with irritable malice.
"Is the perimeter patrol made of useless trash?!" he barked.
The giant wolf within him was pacing, clawing at the bars of his restraint.
He took a sip of the black coffee on his desk, only for his brow to furrow in deep disgust.
It wasn't the right taste.
It wasn't that sweet, cloying syrup; he wanted the crisp, clean scent that belonged only to Sienna—the scent that could soothe his inner beast.
"Sienna, I told you no sugar, did you—" Silas started instinctively.
But when he looked up, he didn't see the submissive, slender figure he expected. Instead, he saw Victoria, dressed in a provocative skirt and reeking of artificial pheromones. Silas's gaze turned freezing.
"Alpha, let me make you another cup..." Victoria tried to entice him with her scent.
"Where is Sienna?" Silas interrupted, suppressing the hollow ache in his chest caused by the severed Mate Bond.
Victoria's eyes flashed with malice.
She let out a fake, pitying sigh. "Alpha, Sienna left the territory three days ago. As a defenseless Omega, she probably won't dare to come back."
"She'll be back," Silas snorted with the absolute arrogance of a ruler. "A lowly Omega cannot survive without me. She will never leave Silvermoon land."
The atmosphere in the grand conference room was below freezing.
Silas sat at the head of the table, his fingers tapping impatiently. His inner wolf felt insulted by the rival Alpha's lateness.
"Alpha," Victoria pouted. "Alpha Lucian is so arrogant. He's already thirty minutes late."
Silas ignored her. Just then, the rhythmic click of high heels echoed through the corridor. Click. Click. Click.
What followed was not Lucian's violent, bloody scent, but a familiar fragrance that had undergone a subtle, lethal transformation.
It was Sienna's scent—but now, it was brazenly stained with the sigil of the Bloodfang Pack.
Silas's pupils contracted.
His heart skipped a beat. The wolf within him, which had been screaming for its mate, went into a total frenzy the moment it caught that scent.
The doors were thrown open.
Framed by the light of the corridor, the woman he had once treated like grass—Sienna—stood there. She was dressed in a sharp, blood-red power suit. Her gaze no longer held a trace of submission; it was as cold as ice.
Sienna walked to the other end of the table and leaned forward, her posture one of absolute equality.
"Hello, Alpha Silas," she said, her red lips curling into a smile that held no warmth. "I am the new Chief Negotiator and Emissary for the Bloodfang Pack—Sienna."
The room fell into a deathly silence.
In the depths of Silas's golden eyes, a volatile mix of possessiveness and the fury of betrayal erupted like a volcano.