The morning after the Pacific Crown Gala, the scent of my victory was still thick in the air, but the rot inside Turner Studios was only deepening. Blake was being cornered by the pack elders. They were losing faith; his inability to either break my spirit or bring me back into the fold made him look like a weak Alpha. He was becoming more useless to the studio than a stray guarding the trash, and his scent was sour with the stench of a failing leader.
Several investors had already signaled their intent to pull their support. They openly mocked Blake during their Council meetings, leaving him to retreat to his office in a feral rage, smashing everything in sight. He didn't just hate me; he wanted to see my blood in the dirt.
A moment later, the new recruits Mia had scouted—the young year
