Chapter 1I was fluent in eight languages - Italian, German, French, Japanese, Korean, Spanish, Arabic, and Russian.
But for three years at Nocturne Pack Trading, my resume only claimed one: Italian.
The reason was simple. My father had been a diplomat for the High Council, my mother a simultaneous interpreter for pack summits. Growing up, we rotated through seven different pack territories, so picking up new tongues was as natural as shifting under the full moon.
They died five years ago. A rogue ambush on the border - official report called it a "hunting accident." I didn't want to show off my skills. I didn't want anyone digging into my past and offering pity like a scrap of raw meat.
I wanted to keep my head down. Junior translator. Base salary. Pay the rent on my cramped den. Feed my cat, Vivi.
Then came the annual pack gathering. Our Alpha, Kellan Penrose, stood on the dais and droned in English for ten minutes before switching to German.
"Next year, I'm giving a seventy percent raise to every wolf in this hall who speaks German."
Two hundred pack members clapped, none of them understanding a word.
I understood every syllable.
Sandra Hayes, head of the German translation team, sat beside me. Her ears perked when Kellan finished, and she nudged my shoulder. "Did you catch any of that, Jenna?"
I shook my head. "No. I don't speak German."
She snorted. "Makes sense. You only know Italian and pull twenty grand a year. Pity."
I said nothing.
Only six wolves on the German team - plus Alpha Penrose himself - would actually see that raise. I reminded myself it wasn't my territory.
My phone buzzed. My only friend, Talia, from Administration.
"Babe Jenna, you totally understood Alpha's German just now, right? Seventy percent! Why didn't you speak up?"
Talia had accidentally discovered I knew French last year when she caught me reading a novel in the breakroom. I'd sworn her to secrecy - a hard oath for her to keep.
"Let it go. I don't want attention," I texted back.
"What's wrong with you? That's seventy percent! You're on twenty grand - that bump would take you to thirty-four. Your heater barely works, and your den's freezing."
I walked toward the elevators. Kellan was already there, with our Beta, Colson Anderson. They chatted in German.
"Smart move," Colson said. "Only the German team caught it. You reward your core wolves while everyone else thinks you're blowing hot air."
Kellan chuckled. "If I'm going to make empty promises, I might as well do it with class. German gives me that global-pack flair."
Colson snorted. "A junior translator like Jenna isn't worth more than twenty grand anyway."
The elevator doors slid open. I stepped in behind them, face blank. They kept talking in German.
"Who's handling the Eastbridge Pack negotiation next week?" Colson asked.
"Sandra," Kellan said. "Her German's the best."
"I hear Eastbridge's Alpha, Garrett Throne, is a nightmare," Colson said. "When they partnered with Skyline Pack, he barked at their translator until she fled the conference room in tears."
"Sandra can handle it."
The elevator reached the lobby. I walked out first. Kellan called after me in English, "Jenna, drop off the proofread for last week's Italian contract tomorrow."
"Of course, Alpha Penrose," I said, not looking back.
The next day, I dropped the proofread on Kellan's desk. Thirty thousand words of Italian. I'd found and fixed forty-seven errors in the original translation - Sandra's work. My name wouldn't appear anywhere. It would just say "Proofread by Translation Department."
Sandra never knew I corrected her. She genuinely believed she was an expert.
I was heading back to my desk when Talia drifted over, nursing a cup of blood-berry tea.
"Babe Jenna, did you hear?"
"Hear what?"
"Sandra's leading the Eastbridge pitch next week."
"I heard."
"Do you know who Eastbridge's Alpha is?" Talia dropped her voice. "Garrett Throne. Thirty-two. Ranked ninety-eighth on the Wolf Wealth List last year. Rumor has it he's fluent in five pack-tongues and has a vicious temper. He supposedly fired Skyline Pack's entire translation team after one meeting."
"What does that have to do with me?"
"Don't you think Sandra is going to bomb?"
"If she bombs, it's not my problem."
Talia sighed. "You put up with too much."
She left. I opened my laptop and pulled up my daily task - a supplier quote in Spanish. Normally the Spanish team handled it, but Kieran Gant was sick today, so Colson dumped it on me.
"Jenna, didn't you take some Spanish in college? Just do your best."
In reality, I'd lived in the Wolfstead Pack territory for two years. I finished the translation in fifteen minutes, deliberately leaving two minor errors that didn't change the meaning. I needed the work to look like it came from someone who'd only taken a few undergrad classes.
Colson's reply came fast: "It's fine."
Fine was good enough.
Later that afternoon, Sandra stopped at my desk and dropped a stack of papers in front of me. "Jenna, organize these Italian files. I need to prep for Eastbridge next week."
I eyed the stack - roughly fifty pages of background on Eastbridge Pack, all in Italian. "This really isn't my job - "
"Why wouldn't it be?" She cut me off. "You work in Translation, and I'm your team leader. Got a problem with me assigning you work?"
She'd been promoted to team leader last month, in charge of Italian and German groups.
"Fine." I grabbed the files.
She took a few steps, then looked back. "Oh, right. Department huddle tomorrow on the Eastbridge coordination plan. You don't need to be there."
"I know."
"You only handle basic proofreading anyway. You wouldn't be put on a major project like this."
"I know."
She walked away.
My phone buzzed - Talia, with a string of angry emojis. "I heard that from the breakroom. Who does she think she is, talking to you like that?"
"I'm used to it," I texted back.
"Can't you just stand up for yourself?"
"Stand up, and then what? She's the team leader."
"If you showed them all the languages you actually know, she wouldn't even be qualified to manage you."
"I don't want to do that."
"What exactly are you afraid of, Babe Jenna?"
I stared at the screen, no answer forming. What was I afraid of?
Maybe I was terrified of standing out. Terrified someone would dig into my past, look at me with that awful pity, and whisper, "Oh, she's the diplomat's daughter. The one whose parents were torn apart by rogues."
When I got home that evening, Vivi - my cat - was waiting by the door. I scooped him up, and he yawned wide.
"Vivi, I fixed forty-seven of Sandra's mistakes today, and she doesn't even know."
He squirmed out of my arms and padded to his food bowl.
I opened the fridge. Two eggs and half a head of cabbage. Making twenty grand in this city meant after rent, utilities, and cat food, I had almost nothing left.
I whipped up a quick omelet and sat by the window to eat. My phone rang - an unfamiliar number.
"Hello, am I speaking to Ms. Jenna Caldwell?"
"Yes."
"My name is Davis Jones. I'm an attorney with Kensington Law Firm, representing the High Council's estate division. We need you to sign documents regarding the liquidation of your parents' overseas assets."
Chapter 2
"I've already told you. I don't want any of it. Donate it all."
"Ms. Caldwell, your parents had an account in Zurich - "
"I don't want it." I cut him off. "Thank you, Mr. Jones, but please stop calling me."
I hung up.
Vivi hopped onto the table, tilted his head, and watched me with those golden cat eyes.
"Nothing important," I told him.
I turned off my phone.
Monday morning. The Translation Department held its weekly pack meeting.
I wasn't invited. But my desk sat flush against the conference room wall, and my wolf ears caught every word.
Sandra stood at the whiteboard, mapping out Eastbridge Pack's specs.
"Garrett is fluent in German and Italian. His Betas cover French and Japanese," she explained. "They're handling Arabic themselves. We're only responsible for German and Italian comms."
Colson nodded. "Confident you can handle this?"
"Of course." Sandra's tail practically wagged. "I studied in German territory for three years. A standard business negotiation is a breeze."
Sandra's German was passable. She could navigate a casual chat over coffee without embarrassing herself.
But I'd proofread her drafts. Her business German was a disaster. She translated word-for-word, completely ignoring the rigid hierarchy of formal titles - something every German wolf expected in corporate correspondence.
In a casual setting? Fine.
Across the table from a detail-obsessed Alpha like Throne?
Whatever. Not my problem.
The meeting ended. Sandra passed my desk.
"Did you finish organizing those files?"
"Yep." I handed her a twenty-page breakdown - categorized by project type, partnership history, key personnel. Clean. Precise.
She skimmed the first two pages. "This'll do."
Four o'clock. Alpha Kellan marched in, his scent sharp with urgency.
"San, Eastbridge moved up the schedule. Garrett arrives tomorrow afternoon. Ready?"
Sandra shot up, ears flicking. "They moved it? Well - I've reviewed everything. I'm prepared."
"Good." Kellan's jaw tightened. "Bring someone for on-site support."
Sandra scanned the room. "I'll take Kieran. His German's solid."
"Kieran's still on leave."
Her eyes landed on me. "Jenna. You're coming."
I blinked. "Me? I only speak Italian."
"You'll take notes and fetch coffee." She waved a dismissive hand. "I'll handle the actual translating."
Kellan shot me a skeptical look. "Her?"
"Don't worry, Alpha." Sandra's smile was razor-thin. "She's perfectly capable of assisting."
We hit Eastbridge territory at exactly two o'clock the next day.
Sandra wore a brand-new designer suit and heels that clicked like threats on the marble floor. I wore my company-issued button-down and carried a canvas tote.
The receptionist - a sharp-eyed she-wolf - glanced up. "Nocturne Trading?"
"Yes. Sandra Hayes, Translation Department Head. This is my assistant, Jenna."
One quick call later: "Please wait. Alpha Throne is still in a meeting."
We killed fifteen minutes in the reception area. Sandra reapplied her lipstick twice and fluffed her hair three times.
"When we go inside, sit to the side. Take notes. Don't speak. Don't make a single sound. Understood?"
"Understood."
"And keep your eyes down. Alphas at his level have zero tolerance for unprofessional behavior."
"Okay."
The elevator chimed. Garrett's Beta stepped out - tall, scarred, smelling of authority. "Ms. Hayes? Alpha Throne will see you now."
We rode to the forty-sixth floor. The conference room doors swung open.
Garrett sat at the head of the table, buried in a document. He didn't look up.
"Sit," he ordered.
Sandra sat. I opened my laptop beside her, fingers ready.
Two other wolves sat with Garrett - his legal director and a young female with a translator device in front of her.
Garrett finally raised his eyes.
When he spoke, he went straight into German.
"In your last proposal, you referenced the 2021 tariff standards three times. It is currently 2024. Why?"
His voice cut like claws. Fast. Sharp.
Sandra froze for two agonizing seconds. She understood the words, but she clearly hadn't expected him to start like this.
"Alpha Throne, that proposal was just a preliminary - "
She answered in English. Garrett cut her off, still in German.
"I asked in German. Answer in German. I won't waste time on a translator."
Sandra's ears flattened. Her scent soured with panic.
"That proposal was an early draft. We're updating the data - "
"Updating?" Garrett leaned forward. "Has anyone on your team even looked at the 2024 Middle East tariff revisions for EU imports? Articles 3 and 7 alone hit your margins by fifteen percent. Did you know that?"
Sandra opened her mouth. Nothing came out.
She had no idea.
The Italian reference materials had explicitly covered that policy shift. I'd highlighted it in my summary. She hadn't bothered to read my notes.
"I'll - I'll need to double-check those figures - "
Garrett set his pen down. "Did you prepare for this meeting at all?"
"I - "
"You've misused the formal German address three times. I let the first two slide. By the third..." His eyes glowed faintly gold. "Do you understand what repeated formal errors signal in a business setting?"
Sandra's face drained white.
"It signals either disrespect or incompetence." His voice dropped to a growl. "Which is it?"
Beside him, his legal director shook his head - a small, disparaging motion.
The deal was dead. Even I could smell it.
Sandra's hands trembled. "Alpha Throne, I'm so sorry - "
He snapped his folder shut. "If this is Nocturne Trading's standard, I'll find another partner."
My fingers hovered over the keyboard.
Two instincts clawed at each other.
One said: Not your problem. You're here for coffee and notes.
The other said: This is the biggest contract of the year. If it falls through, year-end layoffs hit. Bottom-tier wolves like you go first.
Garrett stood to leave. Sandra looked like she might shift from stress right there in the conference room.
I opened my mouth.
German came out.
"Alpha Throne. Give us five more minutes."
Sandra stared at me, wide-eyed. Her jaw dropped.
Garrett paused. He turned.
"And you are?"
"Jenna Caldwell. Translation Department, Nocturne Trading. Entry-level."
"Entry-level?"
"Yes." I held his gaze. "I'm just here for support. And to pour drinks."
He sat back down.
"You have five minutes."
Chapter 3
I shut my laptop.
"About the tariff policy - the 2024 EU revisions on Middle Eastern imports. Article 3 expands the certificate of origin standard from six digits to eight. Article 7 bumps the environmental surcharge from 2.3% to 3.1%. Combined, those changes drop our actual margin by roughly twelve percent. Not fifteen."
Garrett's eyebrow lifted.
"Twelve? Walk me through the math."
"Nocturne runs a bonded warehouse in UAE territory. We qualify for free trade zone concessions. That offsets the three percent cost bump from the new HS code requirements. Net impact: twelve percent."
His legal director flipped through his paperwork, scanning fast. Verifying my numbers.
Garrett studied me.
"Where did you learn German?"
"I lived in Berlin for a while."
"Your formal address is flawless."
"Thank you."
"And you say you're entry-level?"
"I am."
He glanced at Sandra, then back at me.
"Your five minutes are up. I'll give you ten more - on one condition." His voice dropped to a low growl. "You run the negotiation from here."
Sandra's head snapped toward me. Panic flooded her scent.
"She can't possibly - "
"I said she leads." Garrett's eyes flickered gold. "Otherwise, you can both leave. Now."
Sandra bit her lip hard enough to draw blood.
I looked at her. "Ms. Hayes. Should I take over?"
She said nothing.
I turned back to Garrett. "Then let's take it from the top of the proposal."
For forty minutes, I ran the entire negotiation in German.
Tariff structures. Supply chain stages. Logistics. Risk allocation.
I fielded every question without hesitation.
Garrett hit me with two brutal ones.
First: cultural nuances in the Middle Eastern market.
I answered by dropping an Arabic business proverb.
His pupils dilated. "You speak Arabic too?"
"A little."
Second: comparing quotes from Japanese suppliers.
I rattled off the Japanese supplier's original quote number from memory.
Beside me, Sandra sat frozen the entire time. Didn't utter a single word. Her scent reeked of humiliation.
When the negotiation wrapped, Garrett stood.
"The proposed framework is acceptable. My legal team will reach out with details."
He extended his hand.
Not to Sandra.
To me.
"Jenna, right?"
"Yes."
"Your skills are severely underutilized in an entry-level role."
I gave a tight smile. Didn't reply.
Out in the parking lot, Sandra cornered me.
"You lied to everyone. You said you only spoke Italian."
"I primarily work in Italian."
"Did it look like you primarily work in Italian in there? Your German is better than mine. And Arabic? It's nowhere on your resume."
"Ms. Hayes. We secured the project."
"You did this on purpose." Her voice cracked. "You hid your skills, waiting for a chance to showboat. You think proving yourself to Garrett changes anything? Back at the office, you're still entry-level."
She gripped her bag, claws dimpling the leather, and marched off in her heels.
I stood there. Exhaustion hit like a wall.
My phone buzzed. Talia.
"How'd the negotiation go? Did Sandra tank?"
"We got the project."
"Wait - how? She doesn't - hang on, was it you?"
"We'll talk when I get back."
"Babe Jenna. You finally stepped up."
I hung up.
I hadn't wanted to make waves.
But I also couldn't afford to lose my job.
Early the next morning, I sat at my desk.
Sandra was already in Kellan's office. Door closed. But my wolf ears caught every word.
"Alpha Penrose, Jenna went completely over my head in that negotiation. Ignored the chain of command."
Kellan's voice cut through. "Did we get the project?"
"We did, but she - "
"Getting it is all that matters. The Eastbridge contract is worth eight million. If that deal fell through, I'd have axed the entire Translation Department."
Sandra went quiet a beat.
"Alpha, she misled the company. Only listed Italian, but she's fluent in German. Doesn't that count as resume fraud?"
"Did she ever explicitly say she didn't speak German?"
"She - didn't say it explicitly, no, but her resume - "
"Are we only capable of what's on our resumes? Mine doesn't say I can hunt in wolf form, but I still do."
Sandra had no comeback.
The door opened. She walked out, ears flat, expression sharp with venom.
Around ten, Colson wandered into the department. Stopped at my desk. Scent conflicted.
"Jenna. Exactly how fluent are you in German?"
"Functional."
"Functional? I heard you navigated the entire Eastbridge negotiation without breaking a sweat. And spoke Arabic."
"I just know enough for everyday conversation."
"Everyday conversation?" His tail flicked with disbelief. "Do you realize the pack pays multilingual translators with your skill set a starting salary of at least sixty thousand? You've been here three years making twenty."
"I don't have complaints about my current pay."
He stared at me. Hard.
"Alright. Be in the conference room at two this afternoon. We need you on the follow-up meetings for Eastbridge."
Sandra shot up from her desk. "Beta Anderson. I'm managing Eastbridge."
Colson didn't look back. "You'll continue to manage it. Jenna joins the meetings. Alpha Penrose's orders."
Sandra's eyes locked on me.
"Are you satisfied, Jenna?"
"Ms. Hayes, I was just - "
"Just what? You think one good day makes us equals?"
"I didn't mean that."
"I've worked here seven years. Intern to team lead. And what are you?" Her voice dripped with contempt. "A secretive liar."
I stayed quiet.
"Just wait." She grabbed her bag and walked out, claws scraping the doorframe.
Talia's texts flooded my phone.
"I heard Sandra yelled at you. Why didn't you defend yourself?"
"No reason to."
"You're too calm. Anyway - just heard something. Garrett from Eastbridge called Alpha Penrose this morning. He asked for you specifically. To handle translations for the rest of the project."
I paused.
"He asked for me?"
