Still… the hacker had hovered near the encryption kernel. They’d been trying to get into Vault II.
Insurance.
The section that could collapse the entire pack alliance network if it ever saw daylight. Dirt on allies and enemies alike. Photos. Financial blackmail trails. Personal weaknesses. And deeper in that ult… the file I’d buried with enough caution to make even
Norlan raise a brow.
Nagel Vale.
I saw the name pinged in the logs, and my blood turned cold.
No one was supposed to know what happened to Nagel Vale.
If the truth about Nagel ever came out… it wouldn’t just break alliances. It would burn entire legacies. Mine included.
I let out a long breath, trying to steady my nerves. If someone was digging in that part of the Ledger, they weren’t just fishing. They knew what they were looking for.
And worse… they were willing to risk everything to find it.
I pushed the safe shut with a thunk, leaned against the cold steel, palms flat, and head bowed.
A traiter inside the walls…
One who knew just enough to aim for the throat.
I didn’t need anyone to tell me this was all Kex’s handiwork.
The bastard was drowning in the very storm I conjured for him. And like the coward he was, he didn’t want to sink alone. No. He wanted to pull someone under with him.
And who better to drown with him than the man who shoved him into the sea?
He’s been calling and sending threats and pathetic little voicemails with empty promises of revenge.
His voice was always shaking beneath the pretense of confidence, as though I couldn’t hear the panic scratching behind his words. Like a man gripping a gun with a trembling hand, hoping I wouldn’t notice the safety was still on.
Kex is spiraling and losing altitude fast.
He had realized I was the one who pulled the strings and made him lose more than half his life’s worth.
And now he wants to scream and kick at the water while it fills his lungs?
Too late, Kex.
The sea doesn’t give second chances.
His investors are on his neck. His hoard members have given him an ultimatum to fix his mess. Otherwise, he’d lose his position as CEO. And every one of them was willing to vote him out.
The fall is inevitable.
I made sure of that
You don’t provoke a man like me and expect to walk away intact.
No one forced his hand. He was greedy, sloppy, and loud.
I just lit the match. He poured the fucking gasoline.
And the Black Ledger?
It had become bait. I had to know who this mole was.
I stood there a long moment, then reached for my phone again and called Elias.
“Double the surveillance. I want every inch of this building watched. If anyone so much as breathes near my office, I want them identified.”
“Yes, Alpha, Elias responded, and I dropped the call.
Now, I had to deal with Blaine and his nuisance.
KESTER.
I was in a goddamn hurry to return home.
My phone had been vibrating nonstop-Kasmine had left over a hundred voicemails, cursing and crying about why I instructed the guards not to let her leave the house.
She was seething. And I could almost hear the stomp of her feet through the phone as she demanded answers.
But I didn’t respond.
I don’t pacify storms. I command them.
I’d be with her soon enough. She could scream into the walls all she wanted until then. Right now, I had a pest to crush beneath my boot.
Blaine
He was standing before me. He wasn’t worthy of putting his rotten ass on my seat.
I allowed the silence to envelop us properly as I sipped slowly from my glass of whiskey, watching him through the rim.
I took in the form of the man who had been terrorizing my parents and threatening to rip the pack in two.
Fuck. I should have known.
He was Trent’s brother. I hadn’t set eyes on him in a long time.
I used to know Trent when my father was still Alpha.
He had been a good guy. Golden boy. Clean-hearted. The kind of guy I respected.
Trent had moved to a different country to pursue his acting career.
And his brother?
This fucker here?
He’d stayed back with his father and marinated in bitterness. Always barking about justice and equality, parading himself around as an activist.
But what he really was?
He was rot, wrapped in idealism.
And now that I saw and recognized him, I almost laughed. Blaine-the revolution’s face-was a stocky little blond with lashes so pale they looked singed. Built like a gym-rat accountant. Like the gods had given him muscles out of pity.
I swear to hell, he looked like a Ken doll that got into amateur wrestling.
Now, he was trying to wear a crown made of matches, lighting fires in my house.
Wrong fucking move.
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