Leaving The Cold-hearted Rich Alpha

They summoned Zane to the old house's study, and there I sat on the edge of the sofa, eyes on my lap like lead.

Harold chucked a stack of docs across the desk, barking like a drill sergeant. "Sign 'em already-handover grind for the pack's ops."

Zane peeled back a page, giving it the once-over, and earned a sharp tsk from the old man, patience thinner than frost.

He quit stalling, flipped the corners, and scratched his mark down the line. "Locked in."

The words landed, and my temple throbbed-gaze snared on the bundle's gut, that taut wire in me slackened. Still, something vital slipped away, leaving a void.

Harold herded us to the threshold, while the help shuttled load after load of tonics into the trunk-back seat a fortress of jars, no inch spared.

"House's stocked solid-keep 'em for yourself..." Zane trailed off under a withering side-eye.

"Not a scrap for you, boy!" Harold clapped my shoulder, his look loaded with unspoken weight. "Cleared it with the healers already. Get that checkup squared away-no lingering shadows, hear?"

Zane's stare raked me head to toe, sharpening. "Shadows? You under the weather?"

I shook it off, dodging that blaze in his eyes, palm fluttering to shield my middle before I sidestepped. "Grandpa... if the winds blow right, I'll circle back your way."

Zane's brow creased-he smelled the shift, off-kilter as a lame gait.

The drive dragged in dead air, me zipped tight for once.

On a normal haul, I'd fumble through chatter, tossing lines till he'd grunt a bone.

"Come whine to Harold, that it?" He cracked the quiet, pegging me for still stewing. "Over a mutt? You're jealous now? Vivian's got a soft spot-says that collar fits Snowy to a T. I'll square you a fresh one..."

I cut him soft, low. "Pass."

My grip crushed the phone till knuckles bleached.

Anything she craved? Off my wishlist.

Screen flared: Harold's unbound draft, crisp.

Our marks, shoulder to shoulder-like the last time on the binding scroll.

Back then, all teeth and no tail for the legacy grab. Three years of this grind? Soul-sucked. Over it.

A shrill chime pierced the cab-Zane thumbed it live, and Vivian's voice tumbled out, quaking like a leaf. "Zane... Snowy's seizing up, twitching wild-I'm losing it here. What if... what if she doesn't pull through?"

His paws locked the wheel white-knuckled, yanking a hard veer. Inertia slammed me into the glass-skull cracked the pane, pain folding me double.

"Vivian, cradle that pup at the door. Hold tight-I'm inbound, alright?" That tone? Velvet worry, a stranger's lilt.

He burned through every light, tires screeching to a halt at her stoop.

"Zane..." Vivian gawked at the jammed rear, clutching the dog like a lifeline, wails cranking louder. "Snowy, hang on for Mama, please?"

Zane twisted my way, reaching to pop my harness. "Hop out-I'll rush 'em to the healers, loop back for you..."

I didn't let him finish-shook off his grasp and bailed.

She barreled past, shoulder-checking me hard as she dove in. "Zane, floor it-Snowy's gone ice-cold."

I reeled, barely righted, and his taillights were ghosts in the flurry.

A laugh bubbled up, ragged-tears carving rivers down my face, unstoppable.

Pick-your-poison roulette, three years running? Never landed my square.

Now up against her flea circus? Still drawing the short straw.

I wheeled to ghost when the tail end of the drive erupted-raucous yips and jeers.

"Lame bet. Rode it three winters-threw my stake when she swelled up, figuring she'd stick. Ditched again? Buzzkill."

"Nia, fresh rejection from Zane? Float you a ride home? Word from Vivian's you gotta grovel for a dime-tsk, pack's queen playing street scrounger."

"Were it not for that fluke save on Zane's grandsire, Vivian'd be whelping his litter by now, pups underfoot."

Those sneers-etched on faces of their shared packmates, wolves who'd run with them both.

They'd flung the barbs to my face for three cycles. I'd swallowed 'em down. This round? Throat closed for business. "Long as I'm bound, they're sidelined-off the scent. Don't sleep on it: Zane's throne? My doing. Without that, he'd still be scrapping in the dirt for a scrap of legacy he'd never sniff."

No debts left on the ledger. Clean break. Paid in full.