Chapter 29 Everything belongs to the North
Vuk Kael Lasković
Three days.
That was all it took.
The Southern City Orphanage—once a gilded lie hiding decades of trafficking and fraud—was now mine. The oil refinery on the eastern ridge, the mineral-rich lands around the Pack City, the shipping ports along the river—all signed over in quiet, trembling signatures. Alpha Rowan had stepped down “voluntarily” the moment I made it clear what refusal would cost his bloodline.
The South was mine now.
I stood on the cracked steps of the orphanage while guards in Northern black dragged out the administrators and board members one by one. Screams echoed as chains clinked. Fraud. Embezzlement. Trafficking. The charges were long, but the sentences would be death worthy.
The crowd of locals gathered beyond the gates—orphans, former staff, curious wolves—watched in stunned silence. When the last corrupt bastard was hauled away, they erupted.
Cheers. Howls. Children waving from the windows.
They praised me like I was some kind of God.
Inside my head, I laughed.
Hard. Cruel. Uncontrollable.
You think I crossed half a continent, dragged my mate back to this sun-baked shithole, because I give a damn about your starving pups?
I turned my back on their cheers, golden eyes cold.
I came for the land. The refinery. The power. The orphanage was just camouflage—perfect leverage to break the old guard and take what I wanted.
The South was dirty. Weak. Beneath my feet.
And now it belonged to the North.
I gave orders as I strode to the waiting car: new windows, reinforced doors, proper food, real staff—ones who answered to me. A clean slate to keep the façade running smoothly.
No more leaks. No more scandals.
Then I left them cheering in the dust.
Back at the temporary pack house—Rowan’s old palace, now flying Northern banners—I bathed the South’s stink off my skin. The scent of jasmine and desperation clung too much. I changed into simple black linen and took my seat at the head of the long obsidian table that had been shipped in overnight.
Dinner was served: roasted meats, infernal wine, southern fruits I barely touched.
Across the hall, Maureen moved through the crowd like she’d been born to it.
Fiery ginger hair catching torchlight, crimson silk clinging to every curve, silver eyes sharp and unafraid. She spoke with former council members, local pack leaders, even the terrified staff—confident, graceful, commanding respect without raising her voice.
My chest ached watching her.
My little moon. Once collared and bleeding on an auction block.
Now the consort of the Alpha Devil, holding court in the same territory that tried to destroy her.
Pride burned hotter than hellfire.
She returned to the table eventually, sliding into the seat beside me. The new interim Alpha—White, a neutral southern lord I’d elevated because he knew how to bow, rose immediately.
“My lady,” he greeted with a deep nod.
Maureen inclined her head, regal. “Alpha White.”
We discussed executions first.
“Silas Vane and his immediate family,” I said, voice flat. “Public. Noon tomorrow. Traitors don’t get quiet deaths.”
White nodded, swallowing. “Understood, my lord.”
“As for Celeste,” I continued, turning to Maureen, “that choice is yours, little moon. Slow. Fast. Public humiliation. Or something creative. Name it.”
Her fingers tightened around her glass, but her voice didn’t waver. “I’ll decide before dawn.”
White shifted uncomfortably. Then, carefully: “My lord… a request. The Southern packs ask for eased travel visas to the North. Trade. Family visits. Many have kin separated by the old borders.”
I leaned back, ready to refuse. The North didn’t open its gates lightly.
But Maureen’s hand found my thigh under the table. Gentle pressure. A silent plea.
This was my home once, her eyes said when I glanced at her. Let them have something.
I exhaled through my nose.
“Fine,” I said. “Eased visas. But background checks. And any wolf who causes trouble answers to me personally.”
White bowed so low his forehead nearly touched the table. “Thank you, Alpha Devil. My lady.”
Later that night, after the hall emptied and the moon hung heavy in the southern sky, I took her home.
Not to the pack house.
To her house.
The Laurent estate—once stolen, now returned by my decree—stood quiet under the stars. Overgrown gardens. Cracked marble fountains. The scars of betrayal still visible in broken windows and scorched earth where Silas’s family had burned records.
Maureen stepped through the gates and froze.
I watched her walk the path alone at first—slow steps, fingers brushing overgrown roses her mother had planted. She stopped at the front door, key trembling in her hand.
When it opened, dust danced in moonlight.
She walked inside like a ghost.
I followed at a distance.
Room by room, memories hit her. The grand staircase where her father taught her to shift. The kitchen where her mother sang lunar hymns. The study where Silas had smiled and promised forever.
She broke in the family shrine—small altar with portraits of her parents, candles long cold.
Dropped to her knees.
Sobbed.
Raw, wrenching sounds that tore at my chest.
I knelt behind her, wrapped my arms around her shaking body, pulled her back against my chest.
“I got it back,” she whispered through tears. “The house. The land. Revenge. Everything.”
“You did,” I murmured into her hair. “You survived. You rose. And you brought the Devil himself to burn their world down for you.”
She turned in my arms, buried her face in my neck.
We stayed there until her tears slowed.
Then I carried her outside—to the private graveyard behind the estate. Moonlit headstones. Her parents. Her unborn brother.
She knelt again, fingers tracing carved names.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered to the graves. “I wasn’t strong enough then. But I got justice. I swear I did.”
I knelt beside her, hand on her back.
Wind moved through the cypress trees.
She leaned into me, exhausted.
“I’ve got you, little moon,” I said quietly. “Always.”
We stayed until the sky began to pale.
Until she was ready to leave the past behind.
And when she stood, hand in mine, she didn’t look back.
The South was hers again.
But her future?
That belonged to the North.
To me.
Forever.