Gianna’s POV

I stormed through the Pack House gates, still wearing my school uniform, dirt smeared across my shins from running through the cemetery paths. My chest burned, not from exhaustion, but from the kind of pain that twists itself into something sharp, something dangerous.

I wasn’t crying anymore. Not since Louisa. Not since I pulled her from the grave and held her like I could piece her back together with my arms.

Now, I was angry. No—furious. The kind of fury that set my nerves on fire and made my wolf stir beneath my skin.

I hadn’t shifted in weeks, not since the funeral preparations had begun. And now, walking through the grand hall of the Pack House, I could feel my wolf pacing inside me. She was restless. Hungry. Not for blood, but for justice.

Two guards flanked the inner corridor leading to the council room, both stiffening as they caught sight of me. Their gazes swept over my face. Wild, tearstained and then down to my clenched fists.

“I need to see him,” I growled.

The taller one frowned. “You can’t just walk in there uninvited.”

I took a step forward. “Try me.”

They didn’t need to drag me far. The moment I made it to the door, another guard opened it from within, muttering something about ‘letting the brat through’ like I wasn’t standing right there, burning with fury.

The council room looked just as lavish and empty as I remembered, massive, polished oak floors, blackened stone walls carved with the Pack’s insignia. Every inch of it screamed intimidation, tradition, and the illusion of order.

And there he was.

Alpha Callum stood by the fireplace, a crystal glass of amber liquor in hand. He didn’t turn around immediately, just raised the drink to his lips and took a slow, drawn-out sip like he had all the time in the world.

“That’s not how you treat the late Beta’s daughter,” he said coolly, still facing the flames.

The guard holding my arm shoved me forward. I stumbled, barely catching myself on the cold stone floor.

“Watch it,” I snapped, whipping around and baring my teeth.

“Enough,” Callum said with a quiet command that halted the guard in his tracks. Then he finally turned to me, gaze raking over my disheveled appearance with slow calculation.

He looked almost bored. His dark hair slicked back, suit immaculate, his blue eyes gleaming with something unreadable beneath the dim chandelier light.

“You’ve grown, little one,” he said smoothly, swirling his drink. “You’re not so little anymore.”

I flinched at the sound of that voice. It used to fill our home when Dad brought him over for Pack meetings. Back then, I’d thought of him as noble. Steady. Someone my father trusted, someone who could lead when everything else around us was falling apart.

Now? He looked like a lie dressed in silk.

“You weren’t at the funeral,” I said, voice flat.

Callum raised an eyebrow. “Regrettably, I had other matters to attend to.”

“And no one else? Not one warrior? Not a flag? Not a damn word?”

The room fell silent. Even the guards behind me shifted uncomfortably.

I stepped closer, my voice rising. “My father, your Beta, your best friend—was buried in an empty field like a stray dog. No ceremony. No Pack honor. No proper goodbye. Just dirt and silence.”

Callum tilted his head slightly, as if studying me. “You seem upset.”

“Upset?” I laughed bitterly. “Upset is when your meal gets cold. This? This is betrayal.”

His smile dropped, replaced with an expression I couldn’t quite read, something caught between irritation and amusement.

“You’re bold,” he said after a moment. “Too bold for someone who doesn’t know the full story.”

“Then tell me,” I challenged. “Tell me why he was treated like a traitor.”

Callum stepped closer now, his presence looming, the scent of power and aged whisky curling around him.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said quietly. “You shouldn’t be asking questions you don’t want the answers to.”

“I’ll ask anyway.”

A pause.

Then, in a voice devoid of feeling: “Your father was not the man you thought he was.”

My heart cracked like a floorboard under weight. I stared at him, unable to comprehend the words.

“That’s a lie.”

“No,” he said, walking past me now, like he couldn’t even be bothered to look me in the eye. “It’s the truth you were shielded from. Elias was caught conspiring with the Black Claw Pack. We intercepted communications. Maps. Plans.”

“You expect me to believe that?”

He faced me again, this time with a cruel smile. “Believe whatever you want, girl. But I had no choice. I protected this Pack from betrayal.”

I stepped toward him until we were only a breath apart. “You didn’t protect us. You buried your mistakes.”

His jaw tightened.

“Get out,” he said coldly.

I didn’t move. I couldn’t.

“Gianna—” His voice dropped into something low, dangerous. “I said get out.”

“No,” I whispered. “Not until I know who really killed him.”

There it was, the flicker in his expression.

Too fast for the others to catch, but I saw it. That momentary twitch in his eye. Guilt? Fear? Or just annoyance that I’d dared to look him in the face and accuse him?

“You’re walking a very thin line,” he muttered.

“You already crossed it when you let him rot in the ground alone.”

And then, his hand struck my face.

It wasn’t hard. Not enough to draw blood. But enough to make the guards behind me inhale sharply.

I stumbled, steadying myself against the edge of a chair, but I didn’t cry out. I didn’t cower.

“You dare speak to me like that again,” Callum said, voice low and lethal, “and I will have you locked in the dungeons where your father should’ve been sent.”

I straightened, lips trembling but firm. “I’m not afraid of you.”

“You should be.”

I took a slow breath, memorizing the lines on his face, the disdain in his eyes. This wasn’t grief. This wasn’t justice.

This was something else entirely.

“I’ll find the truth,” I said. “And when I do, you’ll wish you buried me instead.”

“Shut up!” The Alpha roared

“How dare you talk to me like that”

He had used his Alpha ability on me, his command power, one who anyone with an Alpha’s Pack’s blood could respond to.

“Since you’ve decided to come before me and disrespect me,” He muttered as he glared at me. “You’ll spend the rest of your life paying for your fathers crimes”