The Zurich sky was gray, as if it, too, carried the weight of Emily's vengeance. When the plane's wheels touched the runway, her body jolted slightly. Outside the window, a blanket of snow covered the old pines at the edge of the airport.

She pulled her black suitcase from the baggage belt and adjusted the scarf around her neck. As she passed through the arrivals gate, a man in a black wool coat stood tall. The sign in his hands read Emily Davis.

Emily approached, studying the face of the middle-aged man with thin silver hair at his temples.

"Arthur."

"Welcome home, Emily."

Arthur's voice brought back memories—this was the hand that once opened the doors of the Davis family's luxury cars, the calm voice that called her Miss even when she preferred running barefoot in the garden, covered in mud with the pack's children.

Arthur took the suitcase from Emily's hand. "Come, the car is waiting."

Outside, a black sedan with DVS plates was parked neatly. Once the door closed, the car glided smoothly through Zurich's snow-covered streets.

"How is my father?" Emily asked.

Arthur glanced at her through the rearview mirror. "Alpha George is well and busy. The pack still stands by him, and your name is still spoken often."

Emily held back a bitter smile. "As a curse, right?"

Arthur lowered his eyes, saying nothing.

The car passed through black iron gates. The Davis family mansion looked like a small castle—sturdy stone walls mossed at the corners, antique chandeliers, an expansive yard blanketed in white. On the main terrace, several staff members stood in line. At the door, George Davis, the old Alpha, was waiting.

George's hair was now completely white; his wool suit was expensive, and the clan's heirloom pocket watch hung from his gray vest. His gaze pierced through Emily even before his daughter set foot on the marble steps.

Emily stepped down slowly, dragging her suitcase behind her. The cold snow seeped through the soles of her shoes. She was a Davis, not a discarded she-wolf.

"Daddy," she whispered.

George studied her. He didn't move for a second. Only when she stood within arm's reach did he click his tongue softly. "You came home."

Emily bowed her head. "I came home."

Arthur stepped back, pushing open the heavy wooden door. The scent of old wood, expensive cigars, and fireplace smoke filled her senses—a smell of childhood she once abandoned for Alexander Blackridge.

They sat in George's study, lined with bookshelves and portraits of former Alphas on the walls. Emily felt the gaze of her ancestors in those old frames, as if judging the she-wolf once branded a traitor.

George opened a folder on his desk, his broad fingers flipping through old contract pages.

"Why did you come back?"

"I was wrong, Dad. I believed in false promises, and now I want to take back what Alex stole."

George let out a cold chuckle. "Emily, Emily. You were once my pride, then you fell and became my disgrace. Now you stand here speaking of revenge. Do you know what that means?"

Emily raised her head, her green eyes sharp. "I'm your daughter. Davis blood runs through me. I know the only way to redeem this name is to take down the Carter pack."

George exhaled, stepping closer. His large hand landed on Emily's shoulder.

"I'll send Mason to see you. He'll decide if you still have fangs or not."

At night in Zurich, the snow piled thicker along the edge of Emily's balcony. She stood leaning against the wrought-iron railing, watching the distant city lights flicker. The glass door behind her knocked softly. A tall figure in a black coat and glasses appeared.

"Emily?"

Emily gave a faint smile. "Mason."

They hugged briefly, like two old wolves catching each other's pack scent. Then Mason pulled out a chair and sat in front of her.

"So you really want war?" Mason asked, lighting a slim cigarette.

Emily reached for her mug of tea, staring at the steam. "I want Carter Corporation destroyed. I want Alexander to see the she-wolf he threw away standing above him."

Mason pulled out a black folder—thick documents, an old wax seal stamped with a crowned wolf's head.

"This is the Davis clan Trust Fund. Your grandfather's money, sealed for decades. Your father saved it for emergencies."

Emily opened the first page. The numbers nearly brought tears to her eyes. Tens of billions of dollars, shares in mining, oil fields, steel distribution lines—a wolf's strength that once balanced Blackridge power.

"Where do we start?" Emily asked.

Mason tapped the folder. "We buy Carter's insiders. We take their subsidiaries one by one. We lure their investors to our table. We resurrect the old Alpha they thought was extinct."

Emily let out a soft laugh. "So I'll have to bleed in the boardroom, huh?"

Mason smiled. "Blood, bite, howl. Show them you're not a discarded she-wolf—you're a predator."

Emily tightened her grip on the mug, her mind replaying Alexander's rejection last night.

"I want him to see me on the enemy's side, sitting in the boardroom with the Davis name behind me."

Mason stood, patting Emily's shoulder once more. "Tomorrow you're coming with me to the first meeting. The old investor council will be there. Speak to them—if they agree, this money is yours."

"And if they hesitate?"

Mason looked her in the eye. "If they hesitate, howl. Show them your fangs."

Emily drew a deep breath. A thin smile curved her lips, but it was cold.

"Alexander Blackridge, are you ready to see me at the top—on the Alpha's throne you thought I didn't deserve?"

She pressed her palm flat against the cold railing, watching her breath form mist in the winter air. Beneath her scarf, her heartbeat pounded with something sharp and alive—something that would not die just because an Alpha said so.

"I'll rip your crown from your perfect head. I'll tear down every wall you built to shut me out. I'll make you wish you'd never spoken my name—then I'll make you say it again, on your knees."

Emily closed her eyes, feeling the old Davis blood stir like fire under her ribs.

"No one throws me away and sleeps soundly."