Cass’s POV

"How many?" I demanded, my pulse thrumming in my ears.

"Three so far, and more are arriving," Victor replied, his face a mask of controlled panic. He held out an invitation—a pristine, wax-sealed document.

I took it, my fingers tracing the cold metal of the wax.

The Seal of Neutrality.

"It’s legitimate," I whispered. "This isn't a cheap trick; it's a trap."

"If we turn them away, we look weak," Garret noted. "If we let them in, we’re walking into Ezra’s scheme."

"Then we do both," I said, a dangerous clarity settling over me. "We welcome them. We show them the strength of the Dark Fang, and we make them realize that siding with Ezra is a death sentence."

The house was in an uproar. Poppy and Lotus were scrambling, and the kitchen staff was pulling miracles out of thin air.

"Act strong, Cass," Colt murmured, his hand steadying my shoulder. "Like the ruthless cutthroat your father raised you to be. Don't let these old relics see a woman; let them see an Alpha."

"I’ll try," I said, though my stomach was doing backflips.

I stepped into the parlor, Serge and Colt flanking me like hounds of war. Three Alphas stood by the fireplace: two ancient, withered men with skin like cracked parchment, and one barely out of his teens.

"You must be the 'woman Alpha,'" one of the elders sneered, his tone dripping with condescension.

"Just Alpha," I corrected, my voice ice-cold. "I am Casseopea. And you are?"

"Alpha Turner," the quiet one grunted.

"Alpha Holmes," the vocal one spat.

"Alpha Duke," the boy added.

"Well, welcome to the Dark Fang," I said. "It’s a pleasure to have you."

"I'm sure it is," Holmes retorted, his eyes raking over me with disgust. "To be in the presence of

real

Alphas. We’ve heard the stories of your dysfunctional bloodline."

I let a thin, jagged smile touch my lips. "Then we’re all dysfunctional here. Two relics too stubborn to die and a boy who barely knows how to hold a blade. Shall we skip the pleasantries and get to the point?"

Holmes’s face flushed a deep, apoplectic purple. "I will not be insulted by a she-wolf who thinks she’s my equal!"

"Equal?" I laughed, a sound that held no warmth. "I’m not your equal, Holmes. I’m your superior. If you want to test that, feel free, but I promise you, you’ll find the ground tastes quite familiar."

I didn't wait for his reply. I leveled my gaze at him, feeling the dark energy of my power coil in my veins.

Jump.

Holmes’s legs betrayed him. He hopped, his face twisting in genuine, bone-cracking agony as he struggled against my will. "What in the blazes—!"

"I have no patience for games," I said, turning my focus to the boy, Duke, who was already backing away, his hands raised in surrender. "You want to know why you’re here? We’re going to eat, we’re going to talk, and if you dare disrespect me again, you won't be leaving with your dignity intact."

I stormed out, my blood singing with the intoxicating rush of dominance.

I found my father, Warrick, in his rooms. He looked weak, but his eyes lit up when he saw me.

"A grandpa," he wheezed, laughing until he coughed. "I never thought I'd see the line continue."

"Get healthy, then," I said, kissing his brow. "Because you're going to see this child grow."

"You have the spirit for this, Cass," he whispered. "Once the dust settles, I'm making it official. You will be the Alpha of the Dark Fang."

"That’s too soon, Father."

"It's overdue. You won't be alone. You have Colt, and you have the power." He gripped my hand, his gaze sharpening. "Don't take their shit, Cass. If you have to kill one of them to make a point, do it."

By evening, the garden was transformed. Twinkling fairy lights draped over arched arbors, and long, lace-covered tables stretched across the lawn. It was an enchanting facade over a potential battlefield.

I stood at the edge of the garden, navy silk hugging my frame, feeling the eyes of every visiting Alpha tracking my every move. I had a speech to give, a pack to defend, and a war to win.

Showtime.