"International Alpha-Queen," I whispered the title to myself. It was a dream I had long ago buried under the weight of Blake’s ambition. Now, I didn't care about the glory; I only cared about the hunt. I wanted to smell the fear on Riley and Blake when their gilded world finally collapsed.
Just before the high-stakes press conference at Turner Studios, Blake caught me off guard. He insisted on a "reconciliation lunch" at the Great Hall, the most exclusive dining cavern in the office spire. He had even commissioned a massive display of blood-red moon-roses for the center of the table. I stared at the petals, my expression as cold as a mountain winter.
"I ordered the prime elk steak, rare—just the way you like it," he said, puffing out his chest as if he’d conquered a rival pack.
I felt a
