The next day,
In the office district of Aethelred,
The office floor of Ironfang Enterprises hummed with a tension as heavy as the scent of ink and steel in the air.
The skyscraper loomed above the city like a wolf watching its prey, its windows reflecting the pale afternoon light in cold, unforgiving streaks.
Inside, order reigned in carefully measured silence. Employees, mostly lycans and other werecreatures, walked swiftly in polished shoes, heads bent over contracts, while the deeper workings of the empire pulsed in controlled rhythm.
At the center of it all, Beta Mason knelt to his work.
The Beta's desk was stacked high with contracts, quarterly projections, and the endless requests of subsidiaries spread across three continents. His pen moved swiftly, but his eyes were sharper than any ink could capture.
Mason had always believed in balance - profit against loss, strength against weakness. But in his heart, there was another balance that drove him: the weight of Alpha Ironfang's legacy.
Generations ago, Ironfang Enterprises had not been a business but a weapon. Alpha Kaelen Ironfang, Jaxon's maternal grandfather, had built it with a wolf's patience and a warlord's cunning. Where other Alphas saw borders of pack territory, Ironfang saw markets. Where they guarded lands, he seized industries.
He had taught them that power was not only blood and battle but numbers and signatures. Mason had grown up under that shadow. Even as a young pup in the pack, he had heard the stories of Ironfang's business victories - hostile takeovers that felt like battles, negotiations that ended like conquests.
Mason had sworn to protect that legacy; his loyalty had transferred to Jaxon Fenrir when Ironfang's empire passed through Jaxon's mother's bloodline. Yet the more Mason watched, the more he felt the empire slipping, not through enemies at the gate but through rot within its walls.
The door to the executive floor burst open with the casual arrogance of one who had never earned the right to cross it, as Gamma Caleb strode in, both arms laden with brightly colored shopping bags from luxury brands, the kind that reeked of perfume and glitter. His boyish grin was careless, but his eyes flickered with unease.
"Mason," Caleb said, dumping the bags onto the glass coffee table near the window, the plastic handles groaned under their weight.
"I grabbed these for Luna Selena. Dresses, accessories, perfumes, whatever caught my eye. You know how she is about appearances."
Mason looked up, his jaw tightening. He didn't need to open a single bag to know what was inside, afterall he had received all the debit alert.
"You went shopping in the middle of work hours," Mason said evenly, his voice carrying the low rumble of thunder held at bay.
"Orders from above." Caleb shrugged, running a hand through his untamed hair. "The Luna wanted it. What was I supposed to do? Say no?"
"Yes," Mason snapped, his pen clattering to the desk as he stood.
His presence filled the room like a shadow stretching across the floor.
"You were supposed to say no. This is Ironfang Enterprises, not a playhouse for a spoiled Luna's whims. Every coin spent carries the weight of Alpha Ironfang's name, and you dare treat it like a market stall?"
The sting of his words made Caleb shift on his feet, guilt flickering in his eyes. But before he could defend himself, the air shifted.
The door opened again, this time with the languid grace of someone who expected the world to bow with every step she took.
Luna Selena Fenrir - once Saintess Selena Moondrake - glided into the office, her perfume announcing her arrival before her voice did.
She was draped in a gown of crimson silk that clung like liquid fire, her brown hair cascading in deliberate curls that shimmered under the golden lights. Every detail was designed to enthrall, and she knew it.
Her eyes, however, held no warmth. They were sharp, calculating, and hungry.
Caleb straightened immediately, relief washing over his face as he gestured to the pile of bags.
"Luna, I got everything you asked for."
Selena approached them, her heels clicking softly against the polished floor. She glanced at the bags, her lips curling with disdain. She plucked up a sequined scarf between two fingers as though it were something rotting.
"What is this?" Her voice was sugar laced with poison. "Cheap, garish rags fit for a tavern dancer. You call this suitable for me?"
"I—I thought—" Caleb flushed crimson, his grin faltering.
"You thought?" Selena cut him off, her tone sharp enough to draw blood.
"Clearly, you didn't. I told you I wanted exclusive refinement. The kind of dresses that turn heads when I walk into a room. Not… this." She tossed the scarf back into the pile with a sneer.
Her gaze shifted, landing on Mason. Unlike with Caleb, there was no pretense of politeness. Her chin tilted upward, and the demand in her eyes was unmistakable.
"Give me the company's black card, Mason. I'll handle my own shopping."
The words were a knife, as Mason felt his chest tighten, the weight of her arrogance pressing down, but he did not falter.
"No." His eyes narrowed, and his voice emerged like tempered steel.
A flicker of surprise crossed Selena's face before it twisted into fury.
"No?" she repeated, the word dripping venom. "You dare deny me, Beta? I am the Luna of this pack. My word is law."
Mason stepped forward, every inch of his posture radiating defiance.
"You are Luna by name, not by deed. This company is not a trinket to be squandered. That black card is more than plastic; it is the legacy of Alpha Ironfang himself. I will not watch you drain it dry for vanity."
The room pulsed with silence, the weight of his words hanging in the air. Even Caleb shifted uncomfortably, caught between his reckless loyalty to Jaxon and his awareness that Mason spoke the truth.
But Selena's laughter shattered the silence. Cold, mocking, and cruel, it echoed against the glass walls.
"Ironfang's legacy?" she repeated with scorn. "You cling to the memory of a decrepit wolf who is nothing but dust in the ground. Times have changed, Mason. The company exists to serve us now... to serve me and my husband. And you...?" Her eyes blazed with triumph. "You exist to obey us!"
The door to Jaxon's office swung open before Mason could answer.
Alpha Jaxon Fenrir emerged, his presence a storm contained within human form. His broad shoulders carried the weight of a name tied to greatness, but his eyes were tired, worn, and clouded with the intoxication of misplaced love. He looked between Mason, Selena, and the pile of bags, his gaze sharpening on the tension in the room.
"What is happening here?" His voice was calm, but it carried the authority of an Alpha, demanding truth.
Selena moved first, as she stepped into his space with practiced ease, her hand brushing against his arm, her voice melting into a carefully woven blend of hurt and indignation.
"Your Beta refuses me, Jaxon. I asked for the black card, and he denied me. He clings to your grandfather's ghost like it matters more than your Luna's dignity."
Jaxon's jaw tightened, his gaze flicked to Mason, who stood unyielding, his chest rising with controlled breaths.
"It is not refusal," Mason said, his tone measured but unwavering. "It is protection. This company - your company - was built on the blood and vision of Alpha Ironfang. He did not bleed to see it squandered. Selena treats the black card like a toy, and I will not enable that."
Caleb shifted, finally speaking up, though his voice wavered with nerves.
"Mason's right, Alpha. Even I… I think this is too much."
Selena's head snapped toward him, her eyes narrowing in betrayal, but Jaxon silenced them all with a raised hand. He looked at Mason, and for a heartbeat, something flickered in his eyes - conflict, perhaps even recognition of the truth. But then it was gone, smothered under the weight of Selena's influence.
"You forget your place, Mason," Jaxon said quietly, but there was no softness in his tone. "You are my Beta, not my conscience. When I make a choice, it is not yours to question. When my Luna asks for something, it is not yours to deny."
Mason's heart clenched upon hearing this. He had served loyally for years, guarding Jaxon's back, carrying burdens that would have broken lesser men. To be told he was nothing more than a pawn cut deeper than any blade. Still, he did not bow.
"Alpha," Mason said, his voice low but resolute, "if you let her bleed this company dry, there will be nothing left of Ironfang's name. Your grandfather's empire will crumble, and history will remember you not as his heir, but as the wolf who squandered it."
The words struck like lightning, but Jaxon did not flinch. Instead, his expression hardened into something cold, unrelenting.
"Enough."
The Alpha's next words fell like a death sentence.
"Mason, you are suspended for the rest of the year without salary, effective immediately."
The floor seemed to tilt beneath Mason's feet. Caleb inhaled sharply, shock written across his face, but Selena smiled, the kind of smile that tasted of victory and poison.
"And the card?" she asked sweetly, her hand already outstretched.
Jaxon reached into his pocket, withdrew the black card, and placed it into her waiting palm without hesitation.
Selena's fingers curled around it like a predator closing its claws on prey. She pressed a kiss to Jaxon's cheek, her eyes never leaving Mason's as if to say: I have won, and you are nothing.
Mason stood frozen, his world shattering in silence. He felt the weight of Ironfang's ghost pressing against his shoulders, the disappointment of a legacy betrayed.
But inside, beneath the pain, something burned.
'This was not the end, Alpha Jaxon.' he thought, bitterly. 'This is just the beginning of your reckoning.'