The day Alpha Raymond arrived, the manor hummed like a hive.
Servants moved in quick, silent lines; the Alpha's sons double-checked patrol posts; Jolene floated from room to room, touching flowers, straightening place settings, smoothing the edges of her stage.
Clara stayed out of the way, watching from the balcony as the northern trucks rolled into the courtyard.
---
Raymond stepped out first.
Minimal guards, maximal presence.
He didn't bark orders—he didn't need to. The air seemed to settle around him, as though even the cold recognized his rank.
He spoke with the elders in quiet tones, listened longer than most alphas ever did. Every gesture was precise but unhurried. The wilderness had carved patience into him; leadership had taught him how to use it.
---
When his gaze lifted
