Chapter 7 7

Alessandra POV

The dust from the splintered oak door danced in the harsh light of the hallway, settling over the plush carpet of the Luna's Suite like ash. Angelo stood amidst the wreckage, his chest heaving. His scent-a suffocating wave of aggressive musk and sweat-crashed into the room, desperately trying to devour my calming aura of winter frost and night-blooming jasmine.

Behind me, Cressie let out a muffled sob, her fingers digging into the back of my sweater. I kept my posture rigid, shielding her frail human frame from the monster I was once bound to.

"You think you can play games with me, Andra?" Angelo snarled, stepping over a jagged piece of wood. His eyes flashed with the golden hue of his inner wolf, furious and unhinged. "You think you can cripple my Pack with human ledgers and petty threats?"

I stared at him, feeling absolutely nothing. The mate-bond, once a tether of warmth, was now just a rotting corpse between us.

"I am the Alpha," he continued, his voice dripping with a sickening blend of authority and condescension. "Cecelia is staying. That is final. But because I am merciful, I will allow you to remain. You will manage the Pack's finances quietly, from the shadows, where a wolfless belongs. You will do your duty to the Stone Pack."

He actually believed it. He believed he could parade his pregnant mistress in front of the Pack, strip me of my dignity, and still keep my wealth chained to his vanity.

"No," I said. The single syllable cut through his suffocating pheromones like a silver blade.

Angelo blinked, his jaw tightening. "Excuse me?"

I took a deliberate step forward, forcing him to look down at me. "I don't want your mercy, Angelo. And I certainly don't want you. I demand a Rejection."

For a second, the room was dead silent. Then, Angelo threw his head back and barked out a harsh, mocking laugh. The sound grated against my ears, devoid of any real humor.

"A Rejection?" he sneered, looking at me as if I were a delusional child. "You? A defective, wolfless burden demanding a Rejection from an Alpha? You have no wolf, Andra. You have no leverage. Without my protection, you'd be nothing but a plaything for the Rogues in the wild."

My hand slipped into my pocket, my fingers wrapping around the freezing, heavy surface of the Moonstone.

"You talk of leverage," I said, my voice dropping to a deadly, quiet register that made his laughter abruptly die in his throat. "You forget the Blood Oath."

Angelo froze. The golden hue in his eyes flickered, replaced by a sudden, stark human panic.

"A sacred vow," I continued, stepping closer, letting the ice in my veins radiate outward. "Sworn before the Moon Goddess by Alpha King Antonio Blackwood himself, to my mother-a White Wolf. A debt of life that supersedes your pathetic Pack Law."

"You're bluffing," he breathed, but his scent betrayed him. The aggressive musk suddenly soured, tainted with the sharp, bitter stench of pure terror. His inner wolf was cowering, sensing the ancient, divine weight of the words I invoked.

"Try me," I whispered. "Keep pushing, and I will take this token directly to the Royal Court. I will let the Alpha King see exactly what kind of man leads the Stone Pack. You demand loyalty, yet you break sacred vows. You're not an Alpha, Angelo. You're just a Rogue in Alpha's clothing."

The word *Rogue* hit him like a physical blow. His face paled, the muscles in his neck straining as he fought a losing battle against the crushing weight of my defiance. I had stripped him bare, exposing the fragile, honorless boy hiding behind an Alpha's title.

But a coward cornered will always bare his teeth.

Desperate to salvage his shattered ego, Angelo forced a cruel, trembling smirk onto his face. "The Alpha King won't listen to the whining of a defective," he spat, though his voice lacked its previous thunder. "You are staying here, Andra. You will accept Cecelia, or I will personally drag you to the borders and throw you to the wolves."

He didn't wait for my response. He spun on his heel and stormed out of the ruined doorway, his heavy footsteps echoing down the hall as he fled the room. He needed to believe he had won. He needed to believe his empire was still intact.

I slowly released my grip on the Moonstone, listening to his retreating steps.