power play

# Chapter 4: Power Play

The silence in the ballroom was suffocating.

Damien's face had gone from smug superiority to something darker. His jaw clenched, his Alpha instincts rising—that need to dominate and control that had crushed me for five years.

"You forget yourself, Amara," he said, his voice dropping to that tone that used to make me flinch. "You may have put on a fancy dress and some makeup, but you're still the same weak—"

"Ms. Cross!"

A booming voice cut through the tension. The crowd parted as a silver-haired man in his sixties strode toward me with a wide smile.

Gerald Hastings. CEO of Hastings International. Worth forty billion dollars.

The same man Damien had been desperately trying to schedule a meeting with for six months.

"Mr. Hastings," I said warmly. "It's wonderful to see you again."

He took my hand in both of his, beaming. "I've been waiting for you! The board is very excited about your proposal for our new security infrastructure."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Damien's face go slack with shock.

I started to turn away, but his hand shot out and grabbed my wrist. Hard.

"Wait," he hissed, his Alpha authority pushing at me. "What the hell is going on? How do you know Gerald Hastings?"

"Business," I said simply. "You know, that thing successful people do."

"Successful?" He let out a harsh laugh, but his grip tightened. "You're nothing, Amara. You're a broken wolf who couldn't even—"

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" His voice rose. Pack members were openly staring now. "Acting all big, pretending you're someone important. Did you pay this man to acknowledge you? Is this some pathetic attempt to make me jealous?"

The temperature in the room dropped ten degrees.

"Get your hands off her."

The voice came from behind me, low and deadly, carrying a weight of pure dominance that made every wolf in the vicinity physically recoil. Several pack members whimpered.

Lucian Volkov stepped into view, and he looked like death in a thousand-dollar suit.

His amber eyes were locked on where Damien's hand gripped my wrist, and the expression on his face promised violence.

"I said," Lucian repeated, each word precise and cold, "get your fucking hands off her."

Damien's hand dropped like I'd burned him. He stumbled back, and I saw his hand tremble before he clenched it into a fist.

Everyone had seen it. The mighty Alpha Damien Cross, shaking in fear.

Lucian moved to my side, his hand sliding possessively to the small of my back. The touch sent electricity through me, my wolf purring despite my brain screaming at the unwanted contact.

"Amara," he said, his voice still carrying that dangerous edge. "Is this man bothering you?"

"Nothing I can't handle."

Damien had recovered enough to try salvaging his pride. "And who the hell are you? This is a private pack event—"

"Lucian Volkov." He said his name like it was a death sentence.

The color drained from Damien's face. Everyone in the supernatural world knew that name. Lycan King. Mafia boss. The man who controlled more territory than half the Alpha packs combined.

"Mr. Volkov," Damien said, and his voice had lost all its authority. "I wasn't aware you were attending—"

"Let me make something very clear, Alpha Cross. Ms. Cross is under my protection. You touch her again, you speak to her with anything less than absolute respect, and I will personally make sure your pack ceases to exist. Do we understand each other?"

The threat wasn't empty. Everyone knew it.

Damien's Adam's apple bobbed. "Of course. I apologize—"

"Don't apologize to me." Lucian's hand pressed more firmly against my back. "Apologize to her."

The ballroom was dead silent.

Damien looked at me, and I saw so many emotions flash across his face. Shock. Confusion. Anger. And something that might have been regret.

"Amara," he said stiffly. "I apologize."

It should have felt good. But all I felt was cold satisfaction and a pressing need to get Lucian's hand off me before my wolf did something stupid.

"Apology noted," I said flatly. Then I turned to Gerald. "Shall we discuss business, Mr. Hastings?"

"Absolutely!" He seemed delighted. "Mr. Volkov, you're welcome to join us."

We started walking toward the private meeting rooms. I could feel Damien's eyes burning into my back.

The moment we were out of view, I stopped and turned to Lucian.

"Get your hands off me," I said quietly, my voice cold.

"You're angry."

"I told you this mate thing wasn't happening. That includes the possessive touching and the territorial bullshit back there."

"He was hurting you."

"I can handle Damien Cross with my eyes closed." I stepped away, putting distance between us. "I don't need you to fight my battles."

"Even mates protect each other—"

"We're not mates." The words came out sharp. "We're business associates. That's all we'll ever be."

Something dangerous flashed in his eyes. "You can deny it all you want, Amara. The bond doesn't care about your fear."

"I'm not afraid."

"Liar." He moved closer, and I refused to back up. "You're terrified. Not of me—of what I represent. Another man who could hurt you. Another bond that could break you."

"You don't know anything about me."

"I know you were married to that weak excuse for an Alpha. I know he had a mistress. I know you have a son you haven't seen in three years. I know you took a silver bullet for a man who threw you away like garbage."

My blood went cold. "How—"

"I told you. I know everything." He reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "I know you're brilliant and powerful and so fucking scared of being vulnerable again that you've built walls no one can break through."

"Good walls. They keep me safe."

"They keep you alone." His thumb brushed my cheek. "I'm not him, Amara. I don't break what belongs to me."

"I don't belong to anyone."

"Not yet." He smiled, pure predator. "But you will. I always get what I want. And I want you."

Before I could respond, Gerald poked his head around the corner. "Are you two coming? I have a meeting in an hour."

Lucian stepped back, his expression shifting to professional instantly. "Of course."

We followed Gerald into a conference room. As I sat down and pulled out my laptop, I caught sight of movement through the glass wall.

Damien stood in the hallway, watching. Sera clung to his arm, whispering urgently, but his eyes were locked on me.

And standing next to them, looking uncomfortable in a too-small suit, was a boy with dark hair and Damien's gray eyes.

Kai.

My son.

Eight years old now. Tall for his age. The baby softness gone from his face. He looked bored, tugging at his collar while Damien ignored him completely.

My wolf howled inside me, recognizing her pup even after three years.

I forced myself to look away, to focus on the contracts on my screen.

He'd called Sera "mommy" when I left. He'd told me he didn't care if I was gone.

I had no right to feel anything looking at him now.

"Ms. Cross?" Gerald was watching me with concern. "Are you alright?"

"Perfect," I lied, pulling up the first presentation. "Let's discuss your security infrastructure."

But as I talked through proposals, answered questions, negotiated terms that would net me another eight-figure contract, I felt Lucian's eyes on me.

He'd noticed. Of course he'd noticed.

He saw everything.

And something told me this was far from over.