Aysel's POV Finally free from the stench of liquor and fear, the wolves had time to breathe before I decided their punishment wasn't over yet. "Up," I snapped. My voice carried the edge of my wolf, and even the half-drunk Ironhowl mutts jolted upright as if yanked by invisible chains. For a heartbeat, they looked relieved-fools thinking I was done. Then came my next command. "You," I pointed at the one with glasses, then at Knox's half-conscious form, "sit on his lap and feed him his drink." The glasses-wearing wolf froze, color draining from his face. I turned to the bulky one whose shirt was already soaked with sweat. "And you. Get behind him. Wrap your arms around his waist. Kiss his neck." The fat one stared at me, horrified. "M–Miss... please... that's- that's Knox Draven! I can't-" Skylar cracked her knuckles. The sharp pops echoed like breaking twigs. "Do it," she said sweetly, "or I'll choose which limb you can live without." The man's scent spiked with terror-sour, bitter, pathetic. He knew we meant it. They all did. Under Skylar's frost-edged glare and my Alpha pressure rolling through the air, they finally obeyed. One by one, they shuffled into place, clumsy and trembling. The sight was so absurd, I almost laughed. Ironhowl wolves-once proud, arrogant, untouchable-reduced to props in their own humiliation. The scene had a brutal artistry to it: a trembling man feeding his Alpha a drink while another clung to him like a lover. The others watched, wide-eyed, as if witnessing the downfall of a dynasty. Even Skylar, for all her icy composure, looked mildly revolted. "Goddess," she muttered, covering her nose. "I think I just lost my appetite for a week." "Don't stop," I ordered when one tried to pull away. "You wanted to play dominance games? Play them properly." He whimpered, feeding Knox another shot with shaking hands. Knox stirred faintly, his pride twitching even in unconsciousness. If he woke up right now, he'd probably beg for death before living through this scene. Skylar rolled her eyes and stepped back, pulling out her phone. "Hold still," she said, her tone wickedly bright. "If we're doing this, we're doing it right. Lighting's terrible, though." She tapped her screen, adjusted angles, and began snapping photos with all the cold precision of a battlefield artist."Lift his chin," she instructed the one in glasses. "Good. You-move your fat head out of the frame. No one wants to see that. Perfect. Now, more tension. Think passion, not funeral." Click. Click. Click. Each shutter sounded like a nail in Knox's coffin. By the time she was done, every wolf in the booth looked like they wanted to dig their own grave. The stench of shame mingled with the sharp tang of blood and whiskey. Around us, other patrons kept their distance, pretending blindness. Even the bar owner busied himself wiping the same glass for the tenth time. Skylar flicked through the photos, her grin sharp. "Masterpiece. You'd think Ironhowl had opened a new branch of entertainment." I couldn't help but smirk. "Send me a few. Serena will want these." At her raised brow, I added, "Trust me. She'll know what to do." The name alone was enough to shift the air. Serena Draven-Knox's cousin, his greatest rival, the quiet storm that had waited years for an opening. Now, I was handing her one wrapped in silver ribbon. While Skylar texted the shots, I leaned back against the bar, finishing what was left of my drink. The whiskey burned down my throat, grounding me. The night was thick with adrenaline, but satisfaction tasted sweeter than the liquor ever could. Minutes later, my phone buzzed. Serena:When did this happen? Are you serious? Me:Tonight. Staged. Serena:"Good. As long as no one's dead. Knox is finished." Me:(*^▽^*) Serena:"Appreciate it. I'll handle the rest. Dinner soon. I could almost hear the amusement in her voice through the text. Serena always played the long game, and she'd just been handed a winning hand. The Ironhowl Pack, proud and old-fashioned, valued dignity above everything. Photos like these, once released, would carve Knox's reputation to the bone. He could try to call it an act, but either way, he'd be done. A perverted fool or a humiliated Alpha-there was no coming back from either.In packs like Ironhowl, weakness wasn't forgiven. Stupidity was worse than sin. Skylar leaned against me, laughing softly. "He'll say it was a prank. It's the only way to save what's left of his face." "Exactly," I murmured. "And he won't dare blame us. Not without dragging Celestine into it." At her name, something cold twisted in my chest. Celestine Ward-Knox's latest obsession. The reason he'd dared to insult me tonight. He wouldn't risk her reputation for revenge. Wolves like him never did. Let him choke on his pride, I thought. Let him learn that the daughters of Moonvale aren't prey-they're storms that swallow mountains. Skylar signaled the bartender for water, her laughter still light. "Guess that's one less Ironhowl pest to worry about. You think Serena will actually go through with it?" "She's already planning how to leak the photos," I said, tucking my phone away. "Knox won't even know where it hit him from." I stretched, rolling my shoulders, the tension easing out as the chaos died down. Around us, the bar returned to its uneasy rhythm-music thumping.