The Viper's Nest - Bound to the Shadow Alpha

POV Ronan Winters

The words hung in the air like a death sentence. I stared at Sage standing on the marble landing, no longer the timid girl I had brought here three years ago.

"You think you can intimidate me in my own home?" The snarl ripped from my throat, my voice dropping to a growl. "I am the Alpha of this pack. I've lived here for fourteen years. You think a piece of paper gives you the power to evict me?"

Sage didn't flinch. Her fingers rested lightly on the polished banister, utterly calm. "I don't think, Uncle. I know. The council is likely reviewing the audit logs of the Winters Trust as we speak. I'd suggest you start packing."

She glanced meaningfully at Celeste, still collapsed on the stairs, mascara streaking her face. "Both of you."

"You ungrateful wretch!" Lydia shrieked. "We took you in! We raised you!"

"You housed me," Sage corrected flatly. "And now, I'm housing you. For a few more days, at least. Pack your belongings. You'll be leaving soon."

She ascended the stairs with measured steps, each footfall echoing like a judge's gavel, leaving us standing in the debris of Celeste's tantrum.

The moment her bedroom door clicked shut, Lydia grabbed my arm. "Upstairs. Now."

We retreated to the master suite. I slammed the door and locked it, pacing the Persian rug while the walls closed in.

"She's different, Ronan." Lydia sank onto the bed, hands trembling. "When did she become like this?"

"Who knows," I spat, yanking at my tie. "How dare she threaten us!"

"Those people on the Council aren't idiots." Lydia's eyes darkened with calculation. "We can't let her run wild anymore." She raised one hand to her throat, drawing a line across it. "We need to handle this. Permanently."

I stared at her. "You're suggesting we kill Thorne Ashford's fiancee? Are you insane?"

"An accident. A tragic medical complication—"

"No." I gripped the chair. "Lyra's will has a contingency clause. If Sage dies without producing an heir, everything gets liquidated and donated to charity foundations."

Lydia's face drained of color. "What?"

"My sister foresaw this exact scenario. She set a trap from the grave. If Sage dies childless, we get nothing—not the house, not the company, not the territory. We're left destitute."

"So we can't kill her and we can't control her. Ronan, what do we do?"

"I've been CEO of Winters Global for a decade. I will not be undone by a twenty-year-old girl."

A sharp trill from my jacket shattered the tension. I pulled out my phone. The Caller ID made my pulse spike: Ashford Estate – Main Line.

I exchanged a wide-eyed look with Lydia before answering. "Ronan Winters speaking."

"Alpha Ronan." Elder Marcus's unmistakable voice. "I am calling to extend a formal invitation to you and your family for dinner this evening at the Moonlight Hotel. There are details regarding the marriage I wish to discuss."

My heart hammered. A private discussion, away from Sage. "We would be deeply honored, Elder Marcus. A proper conversation would be most welcome."

"Excellent. Seven o'clock. The Emerald Room."

The line went dead.

I lowered the phone, adrenaline surging. "Elder Marcus himself just called. Private dinner tonight at the Moonlight Hotel to discuss the marriage details."

Lydia's eyes sharpened with calculation. "This could be our chance."

"Marcus said 'you and your family,'" I began, turning to face Lydia. "He didn't specifically mention Sage."

Lydia's expression shifted from anxiety to sharp understanding. "You want to go without her."

"Think about it." I moved to the bar cart and poured a measure of whiskey, the amber liquid sloshing in the glass. I took a sip, the whiskey burning down my throat."

"This is our opening. When Marcus sees Celeste—poised, elegant, everything a Luna should be—compared to the wild accusations and threats Sage made today, he'll see the truth. He'll realize Thorne made the wrong choice."

"But won't he expect Sage to be there? She's the one who married Thorne."

"We don't tell her about the dinner," I said flatly. "It's that simple."

Lydia leaned against the desk, considering. "And if Marcus asks where she is?"

I set down my glass, the plan crystallizing in my mind. "We tell him the truth—or a version of it. After her outrageous behavior today, after she threatened to throw her own family out of the house, we asked her to stay in her room and reflect on her conduct."

"It's risky," Lydia warned. "If this backfires—"

"What choice do we have?" I cut her off. "Sage has declared war. She has the marriage certificate. But she doesn't have Marcus's full approval yet. If we can plant even a seed of doubt in his mind, we buy ourselves time."

Lydia straightened. "I'll get Celeste ready. The sapphire gown, hair up to show her neck. She needs to look perfect."

"No scenes, no tears, no desperation," I instructed firmly. "She needs to be composed, graceful, dignified. Everything a Luna should be. Let her presence speak for itself."

"And Sage?"

"She stays here, ignorant in her room. By the time she realizes where we've gone, we'll have already made our impression on Marcus." I moved toward the door. "Go prepare Celeste. Tell her this is her opportunity, but don't give her details that might make her emotional. I need her poised, not panicked."

Lydia nodded and swept out of the room.

I remained behind for a moment, staring at the family portrait on the wall—taken years ago when Lyra was still alive, when I was merely her younger brother managing a small division of the company. I had come too far to lose everything now.

Tonight was a gamble, but it was the only card I had left to play.

By five o'clock, I stood in the grand foyer, adjusting my platinum cufflinks in the ornate mirror.

Celeste descended the staircase, transformed. The puffiness around her eyes had vanished, concealed by Lydia's expert hand with cosmetics. She wore the sapphire silk gown that hugged her curves elegantly. Her blonde hair was swept up in an intricate twist, revealing the graceful line of her unmarked neck.

"You look magnificent, darling," I said, offering my arm.

"Mother said Elder Marcus wants to see us?" Her voice carried hope mixed with anxiety.

"Yes. Dinner at the Moonlight Hotel. Just the three of us." I guided her toward the door.

"What about Sage?"

"Sage has been disrespectful and needs time to reflect on her behavior," I said smoothly. "This evening is about family—real family."

The Mercedes idled in the circular driveway, driver at attention. As we walked toward it, I glanced up at the second-floor window—Sage's room. The curtains remained drawn, no movement visible.

"She doesn't know we're leaving, does she?" Celeste whispered.

"No," Lydia confirmed with satisfaction. "And by the time she discovers it, we'll have already spoken with Marcus."

I slid into the back seat, Lydia and Celeste settling beside me. As the car pulled away from the estate, I allowed myself a moment of grim determination.

Marcus Ashford valued tradition, lineage, and proper pack hierarchy. Tonight, he would see what a true Luna looked like. Tonight, he would begin to understand that his grandson's hasty decision might not have been the wisest choice.