The Ruthless Alpha's Secret White Wolf

Elara POV

Albin Todd stopped at the edge of the heavy oak counter, his weathered hands resting on the wood. His sharp, aged eyes shifted from the crumpled five-dollar bill to my face. The scent of dried sage and old parchment that always clung to him seemed to soften.

I didn't hesitate. I smoothed the bill one last time, then looked him dead in the eye.

"The moonpetal and wolfsbane I used cost roughly two dollars," I said, my voice steady, though my heart was still racing from the thrill of the sale. "That leaves a three-dollar profit. I want to split it down the middle. One dollar and fifty cents for each of us."

Albin blinked, surprise flickering across his lined face. He reached out and gently pushed the five-dollar bill back toward me. "Keep it, Elara. All of it. You brewed the salve, and you made the sale. You earned it."

For a fleeting second, the temptation was overwhelming. Five dollars could buy enough grain to last us a month. But my newly awakened White Wolf bristled at the thought of taking charity. I needed a foundation, not a handout.

I pushed the bill back to the center of the counter. "No, Mr. Todd. I used your shop, your supplies, and your reputation to make that sale. If I take it all, I'm a charity case. If we split the profit, we're partners. I won't work here under any other condition."

Albin stared at me, the silence in the shop stretching thick and heavy. Slowly, a profound, melancholic warmth filled his eyes. He wasn't just looking at me anymore; he was looking through me, at a ghost from his past.

"You have her fire," he murmured, his voice thick with an emotion I couldn't quite place. "Your grandmother, Agatha... she had that exact same look in her eyes when she made up her mind. Proud. Unbreakable."

He let out a soft, yielding sigh and opened the brass cash register. He pulled out two crisp one-dollar bills and a fifty-cent coin, sliding them across the wood.

"Two dollars and fifty cents," Albin said, a genuine smile finally breaking through his beard. "To my new partner."

I took the money, the metal of the coin cool and grounding against my palm. "Thank you, Albin."

By the time I left the shop, the late afternoon sun was casting long, golden shadows across the Bloodmoon Pack's central market. The air was cooling, carrying the scent of roasting meats and woodsmoke from the food stalls. My stomach gave a hollow, painful clench.

I bypassed the grain merchants and walked straight to the butcher's stall. The metallic tang of fresh blood hit my sensitive nose.

"Give me a cut of the fresh venison hindquarter," I told the burly Warrior behind the counter. "Fifty cents' worth."

He raised an eyebrow at my frayed clothes but didn't argue as I handed over the coin. He wrapped a heavy, dark red slab of meat in thick brown paper and shoved it across the ice.

Carrying that package felt like carrying a trophy. It was the first fresh meat my family would have in months.

I hurried down the winding dirt path that led away from the bustling center and toward the quiet, dilapidated fringes of the Omega quarters. As I rounded the final bend, two familiar figures came into view, pacing anxiously near the edge of the woods.

Isaac's broad shoulders were tense, his head swiveling as he scanned the path. Beside him, little Jett was practically vibrating with nervous energy. The moment the wind shifted and carried my scent to them, their heads snapped in my direction.

"Elara!" Jett yelled, sprinting toward me on his scrawny legs. He crashed into my side, his small hands gripping my jacket.

Isaac was right behind him, his brow furrowed with worry. "Where have you been? Mom is pacing a hole in the floorboards. We thought a Rogue might have—"

Isaac stopped dead in his tracks. His nostrils flared. His eyes dropped to the heavy brown paper package in my arms, and his jaw went slack.

"Is that...?" Isaac breathed, his voice cracking.

"Venison," I said, a fierce, protective pride swelling in my chest. I held the package out to him. "I sold my first batch of medicine today, Isaac. I bought us dinner."

Isaac took the heavy package from me as if it were made of fragile glass. He stared at the blood seeping through the paper, completely speechless. Jett gasped, his eyes wide with pure awe as he looked up at me.

"You bought meat?" Jett whispered, treating me like I had just pulled down the moon itself.

"I did," I smiled, taking Jett's hand. "Come on. Let's go home and show Mom."

Isaac clutched the venison to his chest, his posture shifting from a worried brother to a fiercely proud protector, and together, we walked the rest of the way to our small, weathered cabin.