His Unwanted Mate: The Secret Silvermoon Heir

Isla POV

The heavy leather-bound Dowry Ledger hit the mahogany table with a solid thud, accompanied by a locked wooden box containing my land deeds and bank certificates.

Effa Rose stood trembling beside the table, her round face pale. As a wolfless maid, the world outside the Pack borders was nothing but a death sentence to her. "My Lady," she whispered, her voice cracking. "If we leave... where will we go? What if we become Rogues? We have no Warriors to protect us."

At the word *Rogues*, a phantom scent of rotting flesh and metallic blood filled my nose. My mind violently dragged me back to the ruins of the Silvermoon Pack—the torn bodies of my brothers, the lifeless eyes of my father. Deep within my soul, my dormant White Wolf let out a low, resonant growl. It wasn't a sound of fear; it was a vow of absolute, unyielding resolve.

I reached out and gently squeezed Effa's trembling shoulder. "Anywhere is better than a Pack that reeks of betrayal, Effa. But do not worry. We are not sneaking out into the woods like banished criminals."

She looked up, wiping her red eyes. "Then how?"

"I am the daughter of Alpha Arthur Crawford," I said, my voice steady and cold as ice. "My father bled for this kingdom. I will not let Justin Hayes discard me in the shadows. We are going to the Royal Capital. I will demand an audience with Alpha King Adrian Reynolds, and I will Accept the Rejection in front of the King himself. I will sever this bond legally, publicly, and I am taking every last cent of my ten million dollars with me."

Effa gasped, her hands flying to her mouth, but the sheer terror in her eyes slowly morphed into a glimmer of awe.

By the time evening fell, the sky outside the window had turned the color of bruised blood, and a bitter autumn wind rattled the glass panes. A sharp knock interrupted the silence. Gilda Brock, Bertha's maid, stood in the doorway, reeking of cheap face powder.

"Luna Bertha requests your presence in her quarters," Gilda announced, her chin tilted up with unearned arrogance.

I didn't bother replying. I simply walked past her, my posture perfectly straight.

The moment I stepped into Luna Bertha's quarters, the suffocating scent of decaying leaves—Bertha's natural scent—mixed with the heavy, bitter stench of medicinal herbs assaulted my senses.

The room was crowded. Brent Hayes, Justin's older brother, stood near the wall, his weak Inner Wolf practically invisible. Beside him was his wife, Amanda, a timid Omega who kept her eyes glued to the floor. Sitting on the velvet sofa was Kaci, Justin's sixteen-year-old sister. Having just experienced her first Shift, she radiated the sour scent of unripe fruit and glared at me with newfound, puffed-up arrogance.

Only Elder Alda, the matriarch of the second branch, sat quietly in the corner. Her cold mint scent was completely detached, her sharp eyes observing the room with silent disdain.

Bertha was propped up against a mountain of pillows on her massive bed. Her skin was sallow, her hands resembling skeletal claws. Yet, she forced a sickeningly sweet smile as I approached.

"Isla, my dear," Bertha croaked, reaching out to grab my hand.

I let her take it, feeling the cold, greedy clamminess of her skin. She needed me. Or rather, she needed my dowry to keep buying those ten-thousand-dollar Lycanthrope Elixirs to keep her failing heart beating.

"I know Justin's news must have been a shock," Bertha began, her tone dripping with fake sympathy. "But you must be reasonable, child. With the Silvermoon Pack gone... a wolfless girl like you has no backing. You need the protection of the Bloodfang Pack to survive. Justin is an Alpha; he needs a strong warrior by his side. You must be generous and welcome Brenna. It is for the greater good of our family."

My White Wolf gagged in absolute disgust. They really thought I was a pathetic, helpless orphan clinging to their scraps. They thought they could use my slaughtered family as a weapon to force me into submission.

I didn't cry. I didn't lower my head.

Instead, I smoothly and firmly pulled my hand out of Bertha's skeletal grip. The temperature in the room seemed to drop.

I looked down at her, my expression entirely unreadable. "Tell me, Bertha," I said, my voice cutting through the heavy silence like a silver blade. "Have you already met Gamma Brenna in private?"

Bertha's fake, motherly smile instantly froze. She was completely caught off guard by the direct, razor-sharp question.

"I... well, I..." Bertha stammered, her eyes darting nervously toward Brent and Kaci. She cleared her throat, trying to recover her poise. "She is a bit rough around the edges, of course. She lacks the proper etiquette of a noble Luna, but her military merits—"

She was already making excuses for the woman who was supposed to replace me. The sheer audacity of this family was almost laughable.