Sera didn't wait for permission or assistance. The moment they returned to the penthouse, she demanded access to all financial records for the Thorne Pack Charity Foundation.
Alistair had been remote since their return, locking himself in his office to deal with corporate affairs, but his influence was immediate. Within an hour, a secure laptop and thick binders were delivered.
Sera stripped off the ice-blue suit and changed into a professional blouse and trousers—her true armor. This was her domain. Unlike the world of muscled Alpha men and silent Lunas, the world of spreadsheets and legal loopholes was a language she spoke fluently.
She worked for hours, the scent of the Packhouse still clinging faintly to her clothes, a sharp reminder of the scrutiny she was under. The Foundation's finances were, as she suspected, a disaster. Not necessarily corrupt, but catastrophically mismanaged and legally tenuous due to years of neglect under Lydia's public relations management.
The office door chimed.
"Enter," Sera called out, her eyes glued to the screen.
It wasn't James. It was Elara. The Beta female walked in with controlled fury, holding a small box of files.
"The former Luna instructed me to deliver these files," Elara stated, her voice tight with suppressed animosity. "They are the physical copies. You may destroy them once you've scanned them."
Sera finally looked up, her icy blue eyes calm against Elara's fierce green glare. "Destroy records during a compliance audit, Elara? Is that the former Luna's standard operating procedure, or yours?"
Elara's jaw tightened. "They are copies, human. They are disorganized and unnecessary. You are wasting the Alpha's time."
"I am securing the Alpha's assets," Sera corrected, standing up and walking toward the files. She ran her fingers over the dusty cardboard box. "If these files contain a single detail not present in the digital records, they are crucial. And I will not destroy them."
Sera paused, leaning slightly toward the Beta, projecting confidence she didn't entirely feel. "I advise you, Beta, to inform Lydia Thorne that if she or anyone else interferes with this audit, I will hold her personally responsible for obstruction. I may be human, but I understand the consequences of financial fraud far better than the average wolf."
Elara's snarl was audible this time, a low, guttural sound that shook the air. She wanted to shift, to attack. But the knowledge that attacking the Luna meant instant death at the Alpha's hands paralyzed her.
"We will see how long the Alpha tolerates your arrogance, Seraphina," Elara hissed, spinning on her heel and slamming the door.
Sera let out a shaky breath. Victory. For now.
* * *
It was nearly midnight when Alistair finally entered the living area. He found Sera surrounded by organized chaos: binders stacked by year, a whiteboard covered in flowcharts, and the laptop screen blazing with data.
He didn't speak. He simply walked to the bar, poured himself a drink, and watched her. His presence, even when silent, was overwhelming.
"The Pack Foundation is hemorrhaging funds due to a failure in tax status maintenance," Sera said, not looking up. "I've flagged three years of high-risk transactions. Lydia was negligent, not malicious, but the Pack is exposed to major fines."
"The financial exposure is irrelevant to me," Alistair said, his voice flat. "I can cover the fines with a stroke of a pen."
Sera finally pushed back from the table, meeting his golden gaze. "That's why you need me, Alpha. I don't care about your wealth. I care about solving the problem. I am restructuring the foundation to be legally impenetrable. The Pack needs strength where it is weak—intellectually, not just physically."
Alistair put his drink down. He walked toward her, slowly, deliberately. The scent of pine and musk intensified, suffocating her logic.
"The Beta came to me," Alistair admitted, his voice a low growl. "She reported your defiance. She reported your scent of dominance."
Sera kept her back straight. "I refused to be intimidated. That is a strength, Alistair."
He stopped right behind her desk chair. His large hands rested on the back of the chair, trapping her.
"It is a dangerous strength for a human woman carrying my Mate mark," he corrected, his voice dropping to a seductive, yet menacing, whisper. "The Mate bond does not only demand protection, Luna. It demands that I tame your defiance."
His breath ghosted over her neck, and a searing heat shot through her body, erasing the cold logic of the spreadsheets. She knew he was fighting the instinct, but the battle was visible in the hard tension of his jaw and the fire in his eyes.
"We have a contract, Alistair," Sera whispered, fighting the overwhelming primal impulse to lean back into him.
"I know," he rumbled, his voice strained. He leaned in closer, his lips almost brushing her ear. "The contract is the only thing keeping me from claiming the victory you smell like, Seraphina."
He then retreated as abruptly as he had advanced, spinning away with a force that left the room reeling.
"Finish the audit," Alistair commanded, his voice now cold, professional, and utterly devoid of the recent heat. "And do not invite confrontation you cannot handle."
Sera sat there, trembling, the scent of him all over her. She knew one thing: The data was her weapon against the Pack, but her body was now his greatest weakness—and hers.
END OF CHAPTER SEVEN.