Meeting the Vances

Valerie's POV:

The deafening screech of metal grinding against metal echoed across the Oakhaven train station as the locomotive finally ground to a halt. Plumes of gray steam hissed from the undercarriage, curling up into the sweltering afternoon air. I gripped the battered handle of my dark leather suitcase and stepped down onto the concrete platform. The heavy scent of exhaust fumes, stale coffee, and a suffocating crush of human bodies immediately assaulted my heightened senses. It was a stark, jarring contrast to the crisp, blood-chilling frost and pristine pine forests of my home in Winteredge.

My name is Valerie Ashford. I am twenty years old, and I hold a title that most people in this sun-drenched city would never associate with a girl standing alone in faded blue jeans and a plain white T-shirt. I am the Alpha of the Obsidian Pack. Yes, the Alpha. I am one of the incredibly rare female Alphas breathing on the Werewolf Continent today. Right now, my inner wolf, Lyra, prowled restlessly in the back of my mind. She growled low in my chest, irritated by the heavy suppression I forced upon her. I had locked our dominating, terrifying aura down tight, carefully masking our natural scent and overwhelming presence until I appeared as nothing more than a meek, low-ranking Omega.

Decades ago, the Obsidian Pack stood as an unrivaled titan, one of the most feared and influential forces across the entire continent. But after I was born, my grandfather, Desmond Ashford, made the drastic decision to lead our people away from the endless bloodshed. He guided us into total seclusion in Winteredge, the harsh, unforgiving northernmost territory. He always told me that the very first werewolf king of our ancestors hailed from that brutal ice, and that Winteredge was our true, rightful homeland. Because of our extreme isolation, the bustling metropolitan packs of the modern world had slowly forgotten us. They knew nothing of our current numbers, our hidden strength, or the fact that I had officially inherited the Alpha command from my aging grandfather.

My parents died in brutal territorial wars when I was just a child. They were torn apart on the front lines by rival packs desperate for our fertile hunting grounds. I can still remember the metallic stench of their blood on the armor of the warriors who brought their bodies home. From the moment I could comprehend their violent deaths, I knew that protecting the Obsidian Pack was my inescapable destiny. The Moon Goddess, in her infinite wisdom, had blessed me with a devastatingly strong and agile physical form. I started my brutal werewolf combat training at the age of six. While other pups were playing in the snow, I was breaking bones, tearing muscles, and shedding blood in the fighting pits until my lethal combat skills vastly outpaced every single warrior in my generation. I learned to fight blind, to track prey through blizzards, and to snap a rogue’s neck without hesitation. Once I proved I could perfectly control Lyra’s violent tendencies, my grandfather happily passed the Alpha title down to me. He confessed he was tired, his bones aching from decades of warfare, and he just wanted to live out his remaining years in quiet peace.

Normally, I would be sitting at the head of the obsidian table back home, managing border patrols and pack finances. Instead, I was standing in the middle of this suffocating train station, playing dress-up. It was almost laughable. It wasn't until I formally took the Alpha oath that my grandfather dropped a massive burden onto my shoulders: a binding arranged marriage I had no power to refuse. The groom-to-be was Kaelen Vance, the prestigious first heir to the rapidly rising Zenith Pack.

"Just three months," my grandfather had pleaded, his voice raspy and weak as he gripped my hands in his trembling fingers. "Please, Val. Just give me three months. You have to understand my fears. If my heart gives out and your fated mate turns out to be some weak, unremarkable wolf, the rival pack elders will tear you apart. They will challenge your rule every single day. That is exactly why I forged this marriage contract with the Zenith Pack eighteen years ago."

I had fought back, my pride flaring. I reminded him that every single wolf in the Obsidian Pack respected my authority. I was the first female Alpha in our history, and my raw power far exceeded even that of my late father. But the traumatic loss of my parents had permanently scarred my grandfather's mind. He no longer trusted fate. Rather than letting the Moon Goddess pair me with a random destined mate, he wanted to secure a formidable, wealthy Alpha from a powerful pack to stand at my side. He believed a political alliance would shield me from internal uprisings and external invasions.

"If you feel nothing for this Vance boy after three months, you can pack your bags and come straight home," my grandfather had promised, his eyes shining with unshed tears. "We will break off the engagement immediately. I swear it."

I only agreed to this ridiculous charade out of deep concern for his failing health. After he relinquished the Alpha spark to me, his physical condition had deteriorated rapidly. I refused to let him spend his final days agonizing over my safety. Three months was a blink of an eye to a wolf. I could endure a temporary stay in a strange pack.

As I navigated through the crowd toward the station exit, I felt the lingering stares of passersby. Even with my curly dark hair tied back in a messy band and Lyra’s aura buried deep inside, my natural physical beauty always drew unwanted attention.

"Excuse me, are you Ms. Ashford from the Obsidian Pack?" a voice called out.

I turned to see a man in a crisp chauffeur's uniform. I gave a single nod.

"Welcome to Oakhaven," he said, his tone flat and unenthusiastic. "I am your driver, sent by the Zenith Pack."

I suppressed a smirk. The grand Zenith Pack didn't even bother to send a prominent pack member to greet their future Luna. They sent a lowly driver. It suited my plans perfectly. I wanted to remain invisible, keep my true strength a secret, and run the clock out on this marriage. I followed him to a sleek black luxury sedan parked at the curb.

The interior of the luxury sedan was dead silent, save for the hum of the engine and the soft jazz playing on the radio. Once we merged into Oakhaven’s heavy traffic, I caught the driver’s eyes repeatedly darting toward me in the rearview mirror. He took in my scuffed sneakers, my unbranded jeans, and the simple canvas band holding my hair back. I leaned my head against the cool tinted glass, closing my eyes. I knew exactly what he was thinking. My enhanced Alpha senses easily picked up on his silent, judgmental scoffs and the derisive shift in his scent. He saw my plain clothes and my masked Omega scent, and he immediately categorized me. In his mind, I was just a dirt-poor nobody from the forgotten Ashford family. He thought I was a pathetic rural Cinderella, desperately clawing my way out of the frozen wilderness to marry into unimaginable wealth. He pitied me, assuming the ruthless high society of the Vances would chew me up and spit me out.

I shrugged off his ignorant judgment. I pulled my phone from my pocket and typed a quick message to my grandfather: *Arrived safely.* His reply buzzed in my palm a second later: *Ok.*

While the Zenith Pack was known across the continent for their explosive recent growth, they knew nothing about us. My grandfather had explicitly forbidden me from revealing my Alpha status to anyone but Alaric Vance, the current Alpha of the Zenith Pack. I had done my research on the train. Kaelen Vance was a twenty-year-old business prodigy. He had taken over the Zenith Pack's corporate enterprises and multiplied their wealth in a single year. Yet, just like me, he was likely furious that his father had chained him to a supposed nobody from the far-off northern ice.

The sleek sedan eventually turned off the main highway, gliding through massive wrought-iron gates and up a long, winding driveway lined with perfectly manicured hedges. The Vance Manor loomed ahead. It was a sprawling, ostentatious estate made of white marble and dark glass, reeking of new money and an eager desire to show off. The driver parked near the grand entrance and hurried out to retrieve my single, battered suitcase from the trunk.

I stepped out of the car, stretching my legs, only to find my path blocked. A middle-aged woman stood at the top of the marble steps. She wore a tailored designer dress, heavy diamond jewelry sparkling at her throat, and a cold, vicious sneer on her heavily made-up face.

The driver immediately bowed his head, his posture turning submissive. "Mrs. Vance, she's—"

"Martha," the woman snapped, cutting him off. Her voice dripped with raw, unfiltered distaste.

"Yes, Mrs. Vance," a woman in a housekeeper's uniform replied, stepping out from the shadows of the massive doorway. She held a large plastic bottle equipped with a spray nozzle.

Before I could even register their intent, Martha aimed the nozzle directly at my legs and began furiously pulling the trigger. A harsh, burning chemical mist rained down on my jeans and shoes. The sharp, toxic scent of industrial disinfectant hit the back of my throat, making Lyra snarl violently in my mind.

Beatrice Vance crossed her arms, her eyes scanning me like I was a piece of rotting garbage. "Don't forget the shoes and the hair," she ordered coldly. "Everything must be sanitized."

It was painfully obvious. This status-obsessed woman was Kaelen's mother, and this was her grand welcoming ceremony. She wanted to humiliate her rural, unrefined future daughter-in-law on the front steps of her mansion.

I raised my hand, blocking the vile mist from hitting my face, my eyes narrowing into dangerous slits. "You guys are sick."

Beatrice's sneer deepened into an ugly scowl. "As expected of a feral bumpkin from the Winteredge. You're uneducated and rude. We have to be cautious. A stray like you might carry wolfsbane or disease from the wild. What if you harm someone in the Vance family with your filth?"

I felt a dark chuckle bubble up in my chest. Keeping my Alpha aura suppressed was definitely the right tactical move. It allowed me to see the true, ugly nature of these people. Beatrice was hollow—a shallow, arrogant woman who thrived on bullying those she deemed weaker. She expected me to cower, to cry, to beg for her approval.

She didn't like my attitude? That was a shame, because I found her very existence pathetic.

I dropped my hand and stepped right into the foul-smelling mist, glaring directly into Beatrice’s shocked eyes. I let a fraction of my natural authority bleed into my voice. "Maybe you should instruct your maid to spray some of that heavy disinfectant on your own mouth. It stinks of garbage."

I didn't wait for her to recover. I bumped my shoulder roughly against hers, brushing past her rigid body and stepping through the grand double doors into the foyer.

Behind me, Beatrice gasped, sputtering in sheer, helpless outrage. "You! How dare you speak to me—"

"Mrs. Vance, please calm down! Don't get upset over a dirty bumpkin like her," Martha pleaded, her footsteps scrambling against the marble porch.

I ignored them, my eyes adjusting to the dim, opulent lighting of the mansion's interior. But my peace lasted less than two seconds. Another figure stepped directly into my path, forcing me to a halt.

It was a girl around my age, practically drowning in expensive designer labels. She wore a tight silk dress, towering heels, and enough heavy perfume to choke a bear. Her eyes raked over my damp T-shirt and faded jeans, gleaming with a cold, mocking disapproval.

"So, you're the infamous Valerie from the Obsidian Pack?" she asked, her voice high-pitched and grating. "The one who is supposed to be Kaelen's Luna?" She leaned in, taking an exaggerated sniff of the air, and then laughed. "How could you possibly be an Omega? You don't even have a presence."

She circled me slowly, her heels clicking loudly against the polished floor. "Tsk, tsk. Alpha Alaric really has poor taste letting you into our home. I heard from the driver that you took a commercial public train here. Goodness, if we had known you were so poor, we could have bought you a basic economy plane ticket. But I guess a frozen wasteland like Winteredge doesn't even have a functioning airport, huh?"

She giggled, covering her mouth delicately, clearly basking in her perceived superiority.

I stared at her, my face a mask of utter boredom. This had to be Daphne Vance, Kaelen's annoying cousin. Only someone as clueless and socially inept as a pampered Beta would dare openly criticize the reigning Alpha's judgment in the middle of the hallway. Was every single member of the Zenith Pack this unbearable and arrogant?

Buy me a plane ticket? The sheer audacity of the offer made Lyra pace in amusement. Daphne had absolutely no idea who she was mocking. The Zenith Pack might be rich, but the Obsidian Pack possessed centuries of hoarded wealth. I personally owned three top-tier private jets sitting in a hangar back home. I only chose to take the train to Oakhaven to keep my profile as low as possible. And even then, it wasn't a commercial train. My grandfather had rented the entire locomotive and all its passenger cars using a shell company, just so I could travel in ultimate comfort. Daphne couldn't even begin to comprehend the luxury of having an entire speeding train to myself. I had my own private dining car stocked with premium meats, a lounge car, and a sleeping cabin that rivaled a five-star hotel. Halfway through the long journey, I had stripped down, shifted into my massive midnight-black wolf form, and let Lyra run freely through the empty, luxurious carriages just to stretch her powerful legs and blow off steam.

I decided this screeching Beta wasn't worth another second of my time. I snatched my suitcase from the foyer floor, bypassed her completely, and headed straight for the grand sweeping staircase.

"Hey! I'm talking to you!" Daphne snapped, her heavy footsteps hurrying up the stairs behind me. Lyra huffed in my mind, sensing the girl's bruised ego radiating off her like heat waves. She was furious that a supposedly weak Omega was ignoring her taunts.

Reaching the second-floor landing, I spotted a young servant carrying a stack of towels. "Where's my room?" I demanded, my tone flat.

Before the terrified servant could open his mouth, Daphne pushed past me and marched down the plush carpeted hallway. She stopped in front of a heavy wooden door and shoved it open, puffing her chest out.

"Right here," Daphne sneered, gesturing into the spacious, lavishly decorated bedroom. "You must have never stayed in such a big, luxurious room before in your miserable life. You had better cherish your short time here at the Zenith Pack. I am Kaelen's cousin, Daphne. You are going to be living under my roof, so you had better learn to be nice to me, Omega. Who knows, maybe if you beg, I—"

I didn't let her finish her pathetic power trip. I simply stepped past her into the center of the bedroom, turned on my heel, and slammed the heavy oak door directly in her face.

*BANG.*

The explosive sound echoed down the hallway.

"Ah!" Daphne shrieked from the other side, the sudden noise making her jump so hard she almost forcibly shifted into her lesser wolf form. Her fists hammered against the thick wood. "How dare a filthy bumpkin like you be so arrogant?! I'm going to rip you apart! What kind of sick taste does the Alpha have bringing this trash into our home?!"

I leaned my back against the sturdy door, the cool wood soothing against my spine. I clamped a hand over my mouth, stifling the dark, genuine laughter bubbling up from my chest as I listened to her hysterical, empty threats echoing through the hall.

*Rip me apart?* I mused, shaking my head as Lyra let out a rumbling, phantom growl of amusement in the back of my mind.

You think you can hurt me? You are a Beta. A fragile, lowly Beta. My Lyra could tear your head off your shoulders and rip your body apart with a single, lazy swipe of her claws.