I Survived Midnight With The Alpha King—Now His Board Wants Me Dead

Two weeks later, the smell of woodsmoke over the Cascade valley was no longer the scent of arson—it was the scent of reconstruction.

Three hundred Croft construction engineers and heavy-machinery operators had swarmed the valley. The burned-out shells of the historic timber mills had been cleared, replaced by modern, eco-certified steel frameworks rising against the evergreen slopes.

The eighty families of the Cascade pack stood gathered in the central meadow, surrounded by the towering Olympic pines.

New timber homes were already half-built along the riverbank, funded by the millions seized from the Mercer accounts. The pack school was open, children’s laughter echoing through the crisp autumn air. The elders sat on broad cedar benches, drinking warm cider, watching the future being hammered into place with every nail driven into the beams.

I stood on the porch of the newly restored ancestral lodge, wearing a thick wool sweater, a mug of black coffee cradled in my hands.

Beside me stood Chloe. Her bruises had faded completely; her eyes were bright, clear, free of the terror that had shadowed her youth for as long as I could remember.

"He's giving you the entire timber trust, isn't he?" Chloe asked, leaning her hip against the railing, watching the construction trucks roll across the bridge.

"Not giving," I corrected, smiling slightly. "I'm buying it. With my own executive salary."

Chloe laughed, bumping her shoulder against mine. "Still the most stubborn woman in Washington. But look at them, Harper. Look at what you did."

I looked out over the meadow. The people who had called me too young, too soft to lead—the people who had watched my father gamble away their winter food—were laughing. They held their heads high. They were no longer the forgotten, insolvent border trash of the Pacific Northwest.

They were the Sovereign Pack of Cascade, protected by the iron fist of Croft Industries and led by a woman who had never abandoned them.

A deep, familiar rumble vibrated in the soles of my boots.

The crowd in the meadow parted without fear, greeting the massive black SUV that climbed the gravel drive toward the lodge. The vehicle came to a stop, and Kane stepped out.

He wore dark denim, heavy work boots, and a rugged flannel jacket, his sleeves rolled up to his forearms. He looked less like a corporate titan and more like the ancient mountain god he had always been. The pack members bowed their heads with deep, genuine respect—not out of terror, but out of gratitude for the millions of dollars in supplies and security forces he had deployed to their borders.

Kane walked up the porch steps, his golden eyes locked entirely on me.

"Morning, sister," Kane nodded respectfully to Chloe.

"Morning, Alpha," Chloe grinned, stepping back toward the door. "I'll leave you two to calculate payroll."

She slipped inside the lodge, letting the screen door click shut behind her.

Kane stopped an inch from me. He reached out, his thick, warm fingers taking the coffee mug from my hands and setting it on the porch railing, replacing it with his own large hands that slid around my waist.

"The council finished ratifying the regional treaties this morning," Kane murmured, pulling me flush against his chest. "Cascade is officially recognized as an independent duchy under Croft protection. Your borders are sovereign, Duchess."

"And the Mercer trials?" I asked, looking up into his face, my hands resting against the broad expanse of his chest.

"Vivian was sentenced to forty years in the federal silver holding facility in Idaho," Kane replied, his thumb brushing across my cheekbone. "The Mercer name has been scrubbed from every corporate registry in North America. Their empire is gone, Harper. Burned to ash."

I closed my eyes, leaning my forehead against his chest, listening to the strong, unbroken cadence of his heart. For five long years, I had held my breath, waiting for the ceiling to collapse, waiting for the debt collectors to arrive, waiting for the next disaster.

Finally, the silence had come.

"Are you tired, Harper?" Kane whispered, his voice laced with gentle, wicked humor.