Billionaire Alpha's 99 Deadly Games

Chapter 12
That evening. Aria lay in bed aggressively refreshing job boards and submitting applications to dance companies, her
laptop casting a blue glow across her determined face in the darkened bedroom
The application process for elite werewolf dance companies was far more demanding than before. Applications
required submission at least three months in advance, followed by a grueling series of auditions and technical
assessments spanning weeks.
Only after clearing every hurdle could one secure even the most junior position.
Despite her legs not being fully rehabilitated, Aria began what her mother called her "application blitz." simultaneously
developing a punishing practice regimen in the small dance studio they'd installed in the townhouse basement.
Though Lucas's systematic revenge had prevented her from joining any professional companies during those three
years, dance had remained her secret sanctuary. During those years, whenever he would disappear for "pack business"
(which she now understood were rendezvous with Leila), she would retreat to a small studio she'd rented off-pack.
There, alone with just mirrors and music, she'd maintained her technique through endless repetition of fundamentals.
Dance had been her first love-before Lucas, before everything. She had allowed that passion to be overshadowed, but
never extinguished.
Three months later, during her final audition for the Northern Alpine Dance Company, Aria performed with a technical
precision and emotional depth that left the judging panel visibly moved.
As she completed her variation with a flawless grand jeté into a controlled arabesque, the artistic director exchanged
glances with her colleagues-they had found their new soloist.
When the scores were revealed, she had received straight A's across every category-a feat accomplished perhaps once
or twice a decade.
During the feedback session, the senior artistic director studied her with professional curiosity. "Ms. Collins, your
technical abilities are extraordinary, but there's something puzzling in your performance history.”
"Your training is impeccable-continuous since childhood without breaks. Yet after your junior year at Silver Crescent Academy,
there's a complete absence of competition or performance for three

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Chapter 12
years. Most dancers with your potential would be aggressively building their portfolio during that critical period. What happened?"
Aria's grip tightened momentarily on the microphone, but her face remained composed. When she spoke, her voice carried
neither bitterness nor regret, just simple fact.
"I got caught up in a toxic relationship that consumed those years," she said. "Classic story-wrong mate, wrong time."
Noting the panel's sympathetic expressions, she offered a serene smile. "But that chapter closed now. Completely."
"From this point forward, my career is my only partnership. Dance doesn't lie, manipulate, or betray-it just demands everything,
which I'm more than ready to give."
Her matter-of-fact handling of personal trauma impressed the panel as much as her technical prowess. She wasn't running from
her past-she had processed it and moved beyond.
Aria's meteoric rise within the Northern Alpine Dance Company became the talk of the dance world. As the only auditionee in five
years to receive unanimous top marks, she bypassed the corps de ballet entirely, starting as a soloist.
Within a year, she claimed the position of principal dancer, then delivered a debut performance of “Giselle" that prompted the
Alpine Times to declare: "Collins doesn't merely dance roles-she inhabits them with a vulnerability and authenticity rarely seen
on contemporary stages."
As the company's reputation soared under its dynamic new artistic director, invitations flooded in from prestigious venues across
North and Southern Territory-including the historic Moonlight Theatre near The Thornwood Pack. Reviewing the performance
calendar in her office, the director regarded Aria with obvious concern. Familiar with the extraordinary circumstances of her
"death" and rebirth, she had nearly decided Aria would remain in the Northern territory during the Moonlight Theatre's tour.
Before she could suggest this arrangement, Aria interrupted: "I see that look, Margaret. I'm going. The company needs its
principal dancer for the debut."
"Aria," the director began carefully, "The Thornwood Pack is directly on the itinerary. Your former life-the people who think you
died-it's a complication we don't need to face if-"

"I've considered it thoroughly," Aria replied with the same calm precision that characterized her dancing. "I'll perform wearing the
mask and covering my smell for each production. It's thematically
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appropriate for our modern 'Wolf's Serenade' anyway."
"For press and interviews, Zoe can represent as first soloist. I'll be temporarily mute-doctor's orders
for vocal rest."
The director drummed her manicured nails against the polished desk, weighing the proposal against potential
complications. Finally, she nodded. "You've thought this through. We proceed as planned-with your modifications."
The first stop on the Southern Territory tour was, inevitably, The Thornwood Pack. Given the company's revolutionary
reinterpretation of classical works, tickets sold out within minutes-scalpers immediately listing them at triple face
value.
The company's cachet had reached such heights that even Lucas Thornwood- who had withdrawn from most public
appearances-received a VIP package from a European alpha eager to discuss a potential pack alliance over the
performance.
His beta, Michael, watched nervously as Lucas stared at the embossed invitation on his desk, mentally cursing the
investor's catastrophic lack of research.
Since that night a year ago when Leila had destroyed Aria's ashes in her final act of cruelty, Lucas had transformed into
someone him barely recognized. Though Leila now served a lengthy sentence for desecration and the remaining ashes
had been recovered and properly interred, Lucas could not bear even the most oblique reference to dance.
A German business partner had once arranged a dinner companion for Lucas-a former prima ballerina from the Berlin
State Ballet-thinking it might honor his late mate's memory.
That partnership, worth hundreds of millions, had ended before dessert was served. The company was immediately
blacklisted from all Thornwood ventures globally, without explanation or recourse.

Lucas's beta assumed he simply despised dance now, avoided the topic as if allergic.
But Michael knew the devastating truth. Lucas wasn't angry about dance-he was shattered by it. Every mention
triggered the nightmares that left him screaming Aria's name at 3 a.m., the liquor cabinet perpetually restocked to help
him self- medicate through the nights.
Always the same nightmare-flames consuming the she-wolf he had finally recognized as his true mate, too late to save
her, too late for anything but endless regret.
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