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"What if they get it wrong?" I asked.

"They won't," Ivar insisted.

I noticed Astrid had gone quiet.

"Look at their track record. Vidar is stupidly happy with Addie, and that alliance secured the entire eastern supply line for the pack. It was good for Vidar, and it was good for the family. Magnus mated for love — no offense."

"None taken," I deadpanned.

"The second Nell walked into the room, it was obvious she was going to be good for the pack and for Magnus. It all serves the family in the end."

"Elias O'Shea stole from us," Astrid reminded him dryly. "He robbed our accounts and now I'm engaged to him to keep the peace. Forgive me if I'm not throwing confetti."

"But you'll get to be the Alpha female of your own pack," Ivar countered.

Addie made a pfft sound, as if that was inconsequential. Meanwhile, my power-hungry mother would've been champing at the bit for me to become an Alpha female. It was originally why she'd wanted me with Magnus. Though I doubt she would've ever let me run anything. She was far too much of a control freak for that. Too bad that by the time I was finished, I'd leave her with nothing. I'd leave all the packs with nothing.

"Neither of you want to mate for love?" I kept my voice soft. Though I didn't believe in love, having never experienced the emotion in any facet of my life. But I was a chaos agent. So…

Ivar's voice sounded surprisingly mature when he answered. "I think it's better to fall in love with the person your parents know is best for you and the pack. Otherwise, why risk making a mistake?"

I kept my expression perfectly neutral, but inside, a quiet chill settled over my ribs. To Ivar, the system was a comforting shield. To Astrid, it was an accepted duty.

To me, it was a prison I was going to tear down from the inside out.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

GUNNAR

Istood in the doorway of my father’s study, my shoulder propped against the heavy jamb, watching the two of them. Dad sat in his leather armchair by the tall window. Ma sat on his lap. Her head was tucked against his shoulder, and his fingers were buried in her hair, tracing slow, unhurried circles against her scalp. They were talking in a private, quiet cadence that sounded like a song they’d been singing together for thirty years.

When Dad looked down at her, his face completely softened. There was no Alpha posturing, no calculated armor. Just absolute trust.

I wanted that. I wanted a wife who looked at me like the world couldn't touch her as long as my arms were around her. I wanted complete, unshakeable trust. Instead, I had a wife who couldn't even see my face—a wife who kept her secrets locked behind a wall of frills, dark glasses, and calculated smiles.

Neither of them looked up when I stepped into the room. In any other house, in any other territory, when six-foot-four of Blackwood enforcer walked through a door, people stiffened. They checked their flanks, lowered their voices, and watched my hands.

My parents didn't even blink. They had raised me. They knew the violence in my knuckles, but they also knew I was completely, fiercely loyal to this bloodline.

Ma finally turned her head, resting her chin on Dad's shoulder and giving me a discerning look. "Did you clear the basement, son?"

My mother grew up around violence in the Lang pack of China. But she didn't like to speak of violence in her house.

"The mess is cleaned up, Ma. The Ironwood mole checked out. But the intel is a mess. None of it makes sense."

Dad’s eyes flicked to mine. "Explain."

"Petrakis swore the Ironwoods came after us because somebody convinced him you were buying up dockland to choke out Ironwood shipping."

My father didn't dignify the lie with a response.

"Then there's Elias. Petrakis said somebody tipped him off. Told him exactly where to hit us, how to move the money, and how long he'd have before we noticed six million dollars was gone. He thinks the same ghost fed Dante Lupetto bullshit about his pack looking weak and gave him the opening that pushed him to grab Addie. Petrakis said most of this information came from a Lobo enforcer."

Dad kept his arm wrapped securely around Ma’s waist, his fingers resting over her hip. "Indicating Sorsha."

"Sorsha is ambitious," Ma murmured, her voice smooth and thoughtful as she rested her hand over Dad's. "But she isn't reckless. Why burn her own supply lines just to stir up dust?"

"That’s what I told Vidar," I grunted. "It doesn't make sense. Whoever is dropping these secrets isn't trying to help anyone win. They’re just setting fires and watching the packs tear each other apart."