Aysel's POV Across the table, a few low-ranked Ironhowl wolves hesitated. Their eyes flicked between Knox Draven and me, weighing danger against greed. One of them finally spoke up, voice cautious, "Knox, you sure you know these two?" Knox let out a dark chuckle that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Afraid?" he sneered, his canines glinting under the red lights. "What's there to be afraid of? One's a bastard daughter whose father never claimed her, the other's a stray mutt kicked out of her Pack. You could bed them right here and no one would dare interfere." The wolves around us stirred, catching the scent of his cruelty. Knox's gaze dragged over me and Skylar like claws. "Pretty shells, that's all. You should see what filth they hide beneath their skin. And that one in the red-" He didn't get to finish. Crash! The beer bottle shattered against his skull with a satisfying crack. Amber liquid and blood streamed down his face, and through that dripping mess, I smiled at him-sweet, bright, unhinged. "Well then," I said, voice lilting, almost sing-song, "since you already know I'm crazy, you should also know-crazy wolves don't follow laws." The words barely left my mouth before the crowd erupted. Screams pierced the haze of music. Someone shouted, "Murder!" and the chaos multiplied. Chairs screeched, wolves stumbled over each other, instincts overriding manners as panic swept the floor. The moment the bottle hit Knox, the pack hierarchy turned on its head. Ironhowl wolves weren't used to being challenged, least of all by someone from the Moonvale Pack. I could feel their uncertainty ripple through the air, a blend of fear and disbelief. A female wolf daring to strike a male Alpha-unheard of in their narrow world. Knox was down, groaning, blood seeping into his collar. The rest froze, two already beaten earlier, the others too wary to make the next move. They glanced between me and Skylar, calculating, but no one wanted to be the first to test us. Skylar stood beside me like winter itself-cold, lethal, beautiful. "What's the matter, boys?" she purred. "Didn't you come here to drink? Don't tell me you're done already." The scent of fear rolled off them. One, a fat wolf with greedy eyes, spat, "You dare touch Knox Draven? The Ironhowl Alpha will hunt you down!"I crouched, lifting the jagged half of a broken bottle. The shards caught the light, glittering like fangs. "Then he'd better hurry," I said softly. "Because I don't keep debts overnight." My wolf growled beneath my skin, hungry for violence. The predator in me was awake now, its instincts sharp and unflinching. I stepped forward; they all stepped back. "Drink," I ordered. "Didn't you want a toast? Drink your own damn liquor." Skylar blocked the other exit, her smirk sharp enough to cut. "Gentlemen," she said mockingly, "after you." The tension snapped. A tall one with glasses, his pride stinging, snarled, "They're just females! Take them down!" The packlings lunged together. Fools. What they didn't understand was that Skylar and I weren't prey-we were huntresses. The first came at me with a swing; I ducked low, swept his legs, then slammed my elbow into his jaw. The crack echoed deliciously. Beside me, Skylar was a storm-graceful, brutal, a Frostfang alpha in every motion. Her claws flashed once, drawing a clean line of blood across another's cheek. In less than five minutes, the bar floor was littered with groaning wolves. They clutched their ribs, their pride, and the last of their courage. None dared rise again. I dusted my hands off and stepped over Knox's body. His scent-iron, liquor, humiliation-filled the air. He was breathing, barely. Pathetic. I turned to the few still conscious and jerked my chin toward the booth. "Sit," I commanded. My Alpha tone slipped through, low and undeniable. They obeyed without thinking. "Drink it all." Their trembling hands reached for the glasses-Knox's own poisoned generosity. The liquor was high-proof, nearly pure spirit, meant to burn through a wolf's veins like wildfire. Within minutes, their faces flushed red, sweat breaking across their foreheads as their hearts struggled to keep pace. Skylar laughed softly, leaning back in her chair. "Boss!" she called to the bartender, "bring another round. Double. Charge it to Knox Draven." The bar owner, who normally wouldn't cross an Alpha heir, smiled with almost perverse delight. "Right away, ladies," he said. He knew who I was. Knew whose mark I bore once upon a time. The Moonvale Pack didn't bow easily, not even to the Ironhowl. I sipped my cocktail, unhurried. "And," I added lazily, "add the cost of tonight's damages to Knox's tab. He can afford it." "Yes, ma'am," the owner said with a grin that was all teeth. The battered wolves whimpered, clutching their stomachs. "Please-no more," one croaked. "We can't-" Skylar's eyes gleamed with frost. "Drink," she repeated, voice soft but laced with Alpha command. "Or I'll pour it myself." They obeyed. They always do. I strolled to where Knox lay sprawled, his bloodied head lolling to the side. The smell of him-fear and defeat-was almost sweet. I gestured at the two wolves nearest me. "You. And you. Get him up. Sit him on the couch." They hesitated for only a second before scrambling to obey, hauling their unconscious Alpha like a sack of meat.