His Defiant Mate: The Hidden White Wolf

Ingrid Bradford POV:

Everyone thought I was the disgrace Derrick Fuentes had dragged back from the borderlands-a wolfless girl, fit only to keep her tail tucked and her head down.

They didn't know that half an hour ago, at my mother's grave, Master Arthur had pressed a cracked cowhide medical manual into my hands and murmured, "Go to Riverport. Treat Franklin Wolfe. The silver toxin in his blood is mutating. You're the last one who can purge it."

They didn't know either that the Lycan Lord my father wouldn't dare name was the man I'd been sent to save-and that I'd come back to the Fuentes house not for their surname, but for every drop of blood they owed my mother.

I shoved the manual into my faded backpack and took one last look at her headstone. Bella Bradford's name was carved crookedly into cheap stone, without even a decent engraving. A freezing wind whipped dead leaves against my calves. I pushed the killing intent back into my chest and turned toward the rusted iron gate of the cemetery.

Outside, a black stretch Lincoln sat on the muddy shoulder. Sunlight slammed off the dark windows, blinding enough to make my eyes ache. A uniformed Beta driver stood by the rear door. When I approached, he didn't bow. He just yanked the door open with a sneer, his gaze stripping me from head to toe like I was trash dragged out of the woods.

I didn't spare him a glance. I bent down and slid into the wide leather seat. A thick cloud of cologne hit my throat, and I frowned.

Across from me sat Derrick Fuentes, my biological father and the Alpha CEO of the Fuentes Group. He wore a perfectly tailored Italian suit, his eyes fixed on the financial spreadsheets on his tablet. He didn't even bother to look up.

The door slammed shut, cutting off the wind. The Lincoln crunched over gravel and rolled forward. Inside the cabin, the silence felt heavy enough to sink.

Finally, Derrick set down his tablet and turned his murky gray-brown eyes on me. His gaze dragged over my faded jeans and plain black jacket, and his forehead knotted with disgust.

He snorted through his nose, pulled a folder from the side compartment, and tossed it onto the leather seat between us.

"Remember your place, Ingrid," Derrick said, his voice low and weighted with the usual Alpha command. "Now that you're back in the Riverport Pack, keep your tail tucked."

I leaned back against the seat and didn't touch the folder. My right fingers tapped against my knee, and the corner of my mouth curved up.

Seeing no reaction, Derrick's face flushed. He lunged forward and released his full Alpha pressure in the cramped cabin. By werewolf law, an Alpha's command should have brought a wolfless outcast to her knees.

Unfortunately for him, his pressure wasn't even enough to stir the pureblood White Wolf lineage sleeping in my veins. I tilted my head and met his glare with ice-blue eyes.

"Do you really think I want the Fuentes name?" My voice was flat. "Mr. Fuentes."

Derrick's face turned livid. He raised his hand, the sapphire ring on his finger flashing as he prepared to slap some rules into me.

I didn't dodge. I stared straight at his raised palm, and the cold in my eyes froze his hand in midair.

He trembled with rage, lowered his arm, and clenched his teeth. "In front of outsiders, you will never mention your dead mother. And keep your mouth shut about being born without an inner wolf. That genetic defect is humiliating enough."

He tugged at his suit jacket and forced his tone back into false calm. "Barbara is a generous Luna. As long as you behave, the Fuentes family won't let you starve."

My mother's pale, dying face flashed before my eyes. I twirled a strand of black hair around my finger and laughed softly.

Derrick took my silence as submission. He turned to the window and began lecturing me on Riverport's hierarchy. "Most importantly, never offend the Lycan Lord, Franklin Wolfe. A pureblood Lycan stands above every Alpha. One word from him, and he could wipe our entire pack off the map."

Franklin Wolfe. My fingers paused against my knee. The wolf-shaped birthmark on the back of my neck burned against my collar.

The car merged onto the highway. Barren woods fell away, and glass-walled pack towers glowed under the setting sun. I closed my eyes and pretended to sleep, shutting out Derrick's voice.

Hours later, the air in the cabin turned cool. I opened my eyes as tall iron gates engraved with the Fuentes wolf crest slid open. The Lincoln stopped in front of a brightly lit mansion, where a marble fountain still splashed in the dark.

The driver opened Derrick's door. Derrick straightened his tie and walked off without looking back.

I pushed my own door open. Cold night air mixed with the scent of roses hit my face. I slung my old backpack over one shoulder and stepped onto the marble stairs. Warm laughter drifted out through the half-open carved doors.

I looked up at the mansion built on my mother's blood and fortune, and my eyes went cold.

A maid in a crisp uniform stepped out and blocked the doorway, staring at my worn backpack as if I were a beggar.