"Speed up the exposure. Anastasia must not walk away from this untouched. This concerns my mate's father—how can she isolate him from his own bloodline and call it protection?" Naomi's voice cracked with forced grief, her wolf instincts masking panic beneath a layer of performance.
Erica leaned in beside her, eyes sharp with calculation.
"We need it published immediately. The stronger the narrative, the faster the public pack will turn. Do you have something visual?"
"Yes," Erica said.
She unlocked her phone and pulled up a candid image—Anastasia seated beside Francis during a prior gathering. A simple moment, now reshaped into evidence.
Timothy, the press network alpha, studied the image with detached interest. His instincts were not moved by morality, only by impact.
"This is usable," he said. "It suggests proximity, influence… even control over an incapacitated pack elder."
His gaze lingered on Anastasia's face in the photo.
