"Maybe Alice was just driven by jealousy," I said lightly, letting the matter settle into the background like a fading storm scent. In truth, I had no sympathy left for her or for Savill—any pack that chose to bare its claws at Bourgeois had already invited its own downfall. Elliot's retaliation had been swift, brutal, and absolute, the kind only an Alpha of a powerful bloodline could execute without hesitation.
When I returned to my office den, my phone vibrated against the desk stone. "Hello?" I answered, still feeling the lingering pressure of everything that had just unfolded.
"Let's celebrate tonight," Elliot's voice came through, low and steady, like a command wrapped in velvet.
"Sure. My treat," I replied without hesitation. If anything, I owed him more than a meal. In pack culture, when an Alpha stood at your back and bared his fangs for your honor, it wasn't something you simply thanked with words.
