I Paid Millions for the Wolf Who Left Me

I smelled him before I saw his name.

That should have been my first warning.

The Come of Age Ceremony was held at the Greywood Hall, a sprawling estate in neutral territory that smelled like pine resin and old money and the careful anxiety of two dozen Alphas trying not to look like they were watching each other. I had been here for three hours. I had shaken hands with seven pack leaders, declined four alliance proposals, and accepted one glass of whiskey that I had not touched. Lucy stood two steps behind my left shoulder the way she always did — close enough to hear everything, far enough to give me room to be the most dangerous thing in the room.

I was good at that. Being the most dangerous thing in the room.

The Ironveil Pack had not been built on birthright or bloodline. It had been built on six years of surviving things that should have killed me, and then turning around and making sure they couldn't try again. Every Alpha in that hall knew it. I could see it in the way they angled their bodies slightly away when I passed — not fear, exactly. Respect with a sharp edge. The kind you give something you don't want to test.

I was fine with that.

The auction registry was passed around after dinner, the way it always was at these regional gatherings — a formality, mostly. Unclaimed wolves offering themselves to packs that could use the alliance. I took the booklet from the attendant without looking at him and flipped through it with the same attention I gave quarterly supply reports. Names, ranks, bride prices. Nothing that concerned me.

I turned a page.

Stopped.

Zayne Ashford. Former heir, Silverfang Pack. Current rank: none. Current pack affiliation: none. Bride price: five million dollars.

I read it twice. Then I read it a third time, very slowly, the way you re-read something when your brain is refusing to process what your eyes are already certain of.

Sable went absolutely silent inside me. Then she slammed forward so hard I had to set the booklet down and press my fingers flat against the table.

Lucy leaned in. "Estelle."

"I see it."

"Do you want to—"

"I said I see it."

She went quiet. Smart woman.

I picked up the booklet again. Looked at the name one more time. Then I stood up, smoothed my jacket, and walked toward the auction floor.

---

The stage was lit with the kind of soft, neutral lighting that was supposed to make the whole thing feel dignified. It didn't. There were eleven wolves on the platform, standing in a loose line, eyes lowered. Most of them were young — nervous, fidgeting, the particular stillness of people trying very hard to look calm.

Zayne was at the far end.

I almost didn't recognize him. That was the thing that hit me first — not the scent, not the bond, not six years of carefully