The Oldenberg Estate stood deep within the northern woods of Washington — a fortress disguised as luxury. Massive black iron gates guarded the entrance, flanked by stone wolves carved into towering pillars that seemed to snarl at the night sky. Warm light glowed from tall windows, but the atmosphere carried no warmth.
Outside the main entrance, Harvey Cromwell stood beside his sleek black car, phone pressed to his ear.
"Hello, is this Mr. Jared Oldenberg?"
The voice on the other end answered immediately — calm, sharp, and alert.
"Yes, Mr. Harvey. What's the matter?"
Harvey smiled faintly into the darkness. "I thought you'd appreciate some interesting news." A deliberate pause. "Luke Ross is back in Washington."
Silence.
Then—
"…What?" The calm shattered. "Are you certain?"
"Very," Harvey replied, glancing up at the starless sky.
The call ended without farewell. No explanation. No details. Just enough to ignite the fire.
Thirty Minutes Later — Oldenberg Estate
The great hall was already full.
Twelve pureblood Oldenbergs sat around the circular obsidian table, all dressed in formal black attire. Every one of them was armed. Every one of them tense.
Outside the estate walls, 246 elite soldier wolves stood in perfect formation — silent, disciplined, and ready.
The massive oak doors swung open.
Jared Oldenberg entered.
Tall, sharp-featured, with cold eyes that mirrored his late father Tristan's. The entire room rose at once, heads bowed in deference.
"Lord Jared."
"Sir."
"Young Alpha."
Jared walked to the center of the chamber without hurry. One of the elders spoke first.
"What is the meaning of this emergency gathering?"
Another added, voice edged with impatience, "Why summon the entire bloodline at this hour?"
Jared stopped at the head of the table. His voice, when it came, was deceptively calm.
"Luke Ross is back in Washington."
The room froze.
Pure, suffocating silence.
Then chaos erupted.
"Impossible."
"Jonathan Lannister confirmed his death!"
"No — I told you John couldn't be trusted."
"That traitor let him live."
"After everything that bastard did to this family—"
BOOM.
Jared slammed his hand onto the table. The sound cracked through the hall like thunder. Instant silence fell.
His eyes burned with cold fury as he slowly scanned every face in the room.
"So what if he survived?" he said quietly. "So what if John betrayed us?"
A dangerous pause.
Then his lips curled — not into a smile, but something far darker.
"Good."
Confused glances spread across the table.
"Because now…" Jared took a step forward, voice dropping into something venomous, "we can kill him with our own hands."
The pressure in the room thickened. Wolf instincts flared in response to the rising rage.
"Nine years ago we couldn't," Jared continued, fists tightening at his sides. "But we are not the same family we were back then."
He looked around once more, letting the weight of his words settle.
"We will avenge Tristan."
A pause.
"We will avenge my father."
His eyes sharpened to lethal points.
"We will avenge the Alpha of Oldenberg."
The room erupted.
Fists slammed against the table. Chairs scraped back. Low, feral growls echoed off the stone walls.
Jared turned and walked toward the massive balcony overlooking the estate grounds. The doors opened for him. Cold night wind rushed into the hall.
Below, 246 elite wolves stood in flawless formation, faces upturned, waiting.
Jared stepped onto the balcony, hands clasped behind his back like a general before battle.
"Tonight…" His voice boomed across the grounds, amplified by raw authority. "…we hunt."
The wolves below raised their heads in unison.
"The man known as Luke Ross…" Jared's voice darkened with pure hatred, "…the murderer of Tristan Oldenberg… is somewhere in this city."
Growls rippled through the ranks like a gathering storm. Killer intent rolled off them in waves.
Jared raised his hand.
"Bring him to me."
A final, merciless pause.
"…Dead or alive."
The wolves roared — a deafening, bloodthirsty chorus that shook the night itself.
Somewhere far away, deep in the shadowed underbelly of Washington, Luke Ross slowly opened his eyes.
He was sitting alone in an abandoned warehouse, the faint smirk on his lips suggesting he had been expecting this exact moment.
The hunt had officially begun.
The Hale Estate had finally gone quiet.
No servants moved through the halls. No voices echoed off the walls. Just deep, heavy silence.
Iris sat on the edge of her bed, still irritated, still replaying the earlier confrontation in her head — Mark crashing into the wall, Simon ready to jump in, and Luke acting like none of it mattered. Her jaw tightened.
"That arrogant old man…"
Unable to sit still, she stood and stepped out onto the balcony. The cold night air rushed against her face. The full moon hung high above the estate, silver light bathing the grounds. She leaned against the railing, trying to clear her mind.
Then she noticed it.
A single light glowing downstairs in one of the rooms below her floor.
At this hour?
Curious — and still annoyed — she made her way downstairs. The mansion felt eerie at night: too large, too empty, almost unfamiliar.
She reached the lit room and pushed the door open.
And froze.
Luke sat near the window, one leg crossed over the other. A small carving knife glinted in one hand, a piece of wood in the other. He was carefully shaping what looked like a bird. Wood shavings covered the small table beside him.
He didn't even look up.
"You walk too loudly."
Iris frowned immediately. "What are you doing here?"
Luke continued carving, calm and unhurried. "Living."
"No, seriously — how are you here?"
Now he glanced at her. "Mrs. Hale allowed me to stay."
Iris blinked. "What?"
"I told her I'd be staying here for a while."
"But why?"
Luke stopped carving for a moment. "Because I have business here."
Iris crossed her arms, still fuming. "If this is about earlier, then let me tell you right now — you were completely out of line."
Luke raised an eyebrow. "The knife kid?"
"Mark."
"Right. Him."
Iris stared at him in disbelief. "You threw him into a wall!"
Luke shrugged. "He attacked first."
"Because you provoked him!"
"And?"
Iris looked like she genuinely wanted to punch him. "You're unbelievable."
Luke resumed carving. "The boy has good instincts. Good reaction speed." Another shaving fell. "Poor judgment."
Iris sighed in frustration. "You can't just solve everything by fighting people."
Luke finally looked at her properly. "That's exactly how wolves solve things."
Silence.
Iris hated how naturally he said it — like violence was as ordinary as breathing.
Then Luke's tone shifted, becoming more serious.
"Sit down."
"I'm fine standing."
"That wasn't a request."
Iris glared at him, but after a moment she sat across from him.
Luke placed the unfinished wooden bird on the table. "I wanted to wait until the next full moon before talking to you about this."
Iris frowned. "Talking about what?"
Luke leaned back slightly. "Your future."
The room suddenly felt heavier.
"I am here to fulfill Lord Lucian's final order."
Iris blinked. "What does that even mean?"
Luke's eyes locked onto hers with quiet intensity. "It means your father wanted you to become his successor."
Iris immediately shook her head. "No." A nervous laugh escaped her. "No, you've got the wrong person. I don't know anything about wolves!"
"That's because Elena made sure you wouldn't."
That stopped her cold.
Luke's voice became colder. "Your father's command was simple. Until your first shift… Elena would lead temporarily." He paused. "But Elena believed if you lived like a normal human… you would never become a threat to her position."
The realization settled slowly across Iris's face. Every cold glance. Every time she was kept at a distance. Every ignored birthday.
Her eyes started trembling.
"So that's why…" Her voice cracked. "My whole life… I thought she hated me because I wasn't good enough."
Luke watched her for a moment, then spoke plainly.
"Well, no. She is just really racist. She sees half-bloods with complete disgust."
Iris's breath hitched.
"She started hating Lucian the moment she found out he was a half-blood."
Iris's hands clenched into fists.
"But Lucian truly loved her," Luke continued, voice low. "And that was the time he started to hate his own Great Eyes… because they revealed to him exactly how much Elena despised him."
He paused, letting the weight sink in.
"And I believe that is the reason he died so early."
Iris's tears stopped.
Not because the pain had vanished — but because something else had replaced it.
Rage.
Pure, burning rage.
Her fists tightened until her knuckles turned white. "She really loves that throne that much…"
Her eyes burned now with something new — resolve.
"Fine." Another tear fell, but her voice no longer shook. "Then I'll take it away from her."
Luke watched her silently, interested.
"I'll take everything away from her."
A slow, dangerous smile appeared on Luke's face. Not warm. Not kind.
Excited.
"Excellent."
He stood up slowly.
"Now we're finally talking."
He picked up the half-carved bird again.
"Don't worry, Miss Iris. You will take your rightful place." A pause. "And I'll make sure of it."
Then—
CRASH!!!
The mansion windows exploded inward.
Glass shattered violently across the room. A metal canister rolled between Iris and Luke, spinning wildly.
PSSSSSSSSSSHHHHH—
Thick, dark smoke erupted instantly, filling the room.
Iris stumbled backward in shock, coughing.
Luke's expression didn't change. Not even slightly.
But his eyes had become those of a predator — cold, focused, and deadly.
From outside came the sound of dozens of synchronized footsteps.
The hunt had begun.