Chapter 3

Kaelynn POV:

The air in the grand dining room was thick enough to choke on.

I walked down the spiraling mahogany staircase and stepped onto the polished stone floor. Around the long banquet table sat a dozen core members of the Ryan family, their eyes locking onto me like hunting rifles the moment my boots crossed the threshold.

No one greeted me. The silence was heavy with disgust.

Just as I pulled out the high-backed chair at the far end of the table, a loud smack broke the quiet.

Charlene slammed a crumpled, yellowed envelope right into the center of the dark wood table.

"Take a good look, everyone!" she announced, her voice ringing off the high stone ceiling. "This is the true face of Clint's new bride!"

A murmur rippled through the room. Two elderly cousins leaned forward, their brows furrowing, while the kitchen staff peered through the swinging pantry doors.

"It's a private letter from Braden!" Charlene declared, turning to face the elders with a triumphant grin. "Found in her coat pocket this morning!"

My pulse remained steady. Braden Hogan was a rising administrator in the neighboring Hogan Pack, a selfish social climber who had spent the last three months secretly sleeping with my sister Deedee while pretending to court me.

"The letter spells it all out," Charlene continued, her voice rising in pitch. "She was terrified of staying a worthless wolfless in the borderlands. So she schemed with her lover to hijack Deedee's marriage, hoping to milk the Ryan family for our assets while keeping Braden on the side!"

Disgusted gasps erupted down both sides of the table.

"Shameless," an older woman muttered, shaking her head.

"Throwing a stray into our pack was bad enough, but a cheating stray?" a burly cousin added, slamming his heavy mug down.

"What's the matter, Kaelynn?" Charlene sneered, stepping closer to me. "Cat got your tongue? Or are you waiting for your lover to come save you?"

Before I could speak, the heavy double doors at the main entrance swung open.

A wall of sub-zero winter air swept through the dining room, carrying the unmistakable scent of cedar and crushed pine.

Clint walked in.

He wore a tailored black trench coat dusted with morning frost, his leather boots clicking rhythmically against the stone. The sheer weight of his presence hit the room like a physical blow. The bickering stopped instantly. Even the burly cousin pulled back into his seat, lowering his head.

Clint didn't look at the elders. His golden eyes cut straight across the room and locked onto me.

"Clint! You're back just in time!" Charlene hurried toward him, snatching the letter off the table and thrusting it toward his chest. "Read this! She's been sneaking around with the Hogan Pack behind your back! We need to banish her to the rogue territory right now!"

Clint looked down at the paper. His leather-gloved fingers took the envelope, sliding out the folded sheet inside.

The temperature in the room plummeted. The silence stretched so tight that the ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner sounded like a hammer hitting an anvil.

He read the lines slowly, his jaw hardening into granite.

"Kaelynn," he said. The tone was completely flat, the voice of an executioner asking for last words. "Do you have anything to say?"

"She has nothing to say!" an elder called out. "Cast her out!"

I stood up from my chair. The wood legs scraped lightly against the floor.

I didn't yell. I didn't break down into tears.

"The letter is a clumsy forgery," I said, looking straight into Clint's freezing gaze.

"A forgery?" Charlene screeched. "His personal seal is on the wax! His handwriting is all over it! Stop lying!"

I ignored her completely, taking two deliberate steps toward Clint until I was standing right at the edge of his personal space.

"The flaws in that letter are obvious to anyone with eyes," I stated, keeping my voice low and firm. "However, the truth behind it involves a scandal that affects both the Ryan and Higgins packs. Spilling family business in front of an open dining room only invites ridicule."

Whispers broke out again, several relatives scoffing at my audacity.

"She's stalling!" Charlene shouted. "Brother, break her neck and throw her to the wolves!"

"Enough!"

Clint's voice was not loud, but the sheer force of his Alpha's Command detonated through the hall like a shockwave.

The glass goblets on the table rattled. The air pressure spiked so violently that Charlene stumbled back a step, gasping for air, her knees buckling under the instinctive urge to submit. The elders shrank into their high-backed chairs, their mouths snapping shut.

In a wolf pack, an Alpha's direct roar carried absolute, biological authority over lower-ranked packmates.

Clint crumpled the paper slightly in his fist, his gaze drilling into me with lethal suspicion, but also a sliver of dark curiosity.

"Upstairs," he commanded, his voice cold and hard. "My study. Now."

He turned on his heel and strode toward the staircase, his trench coat flaring behind him.

Under the shocked, hateful glares of the entire Ryan clan, I smoothed down the front of my knit dress and followed him up the stairs.