I Lost My Pup, then I Chose Another Alpha

When I lost my pup in a crash on the mountain road, Harvey just happened to be driving past—with his human assistant in the passenger seat.

He saw my white mating dress soaked in blood, covered her eyes, and said coldly, “Bad omen. Don’t look.” Then he drove off.

That night, in our den, I found a lace bra stuffed in the corner of the closet—one that wasn’t mine.

I closed the door and calmly dialed a number. “Mr. Miller, I’ve decided. I can leave the territory next week and help you run your pack."