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, and I could see 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 man in his sixties, silver-haired and commanding, strode toward me with a wide smile.

Gerald Hastings. CEO of Hastings International. One of the largest tech conglomerates in the country, worth somewhere in the neighborhood of forty billion dollars.

And the same man I'd watched Damien try desperately to schedule a meeting with for the past six months, based on the emails my former pack members kept accidentally copying me on before I'd blocked them all.

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

He took my hand in both of his, beaming like I was his favorite person in the world. "I've been waiting for you to arrive! Come, come, we have so much to discuss. 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.

"Of course," I said smoothly. "I have the updated projections ready for review."

I started to turn away, to follow Gerald and leave Damien standing there looking like an idiot, 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?"

I looked down at his hand on my wrist, then back up at his face. His gray eyes were wild with confusion and something that might have been panic.

"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, drawing more attention. Pack members were openly staring now, their Alpha losing control in public. "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?"

I opened my mouth to respond, to tell him exactly what I thought of his desperate delusions, but I didn't get the chance.

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 actually whimpered, their wolves immediately submitting to the power in that tone.

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. The kind of violence that ended with body bags and shallow graves.

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

Damien's hand dropped from my wrist like I'd burned him. He actually stumbled back a step, and I saw his hand tremble before he clenched it into a fist, trying to hide the reaction.

But 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 in satisfaction 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," I replied, keeping my voice steady even as I felt every eye in the ballroom on us.

Damien had recovered enough to try salvaging his pride. He drew himself up, attempting to look authoritative instead of terrified. "And who the hell are you? This is a private pack event—"

"Lucian Volkov." He said his name like it was a death sentence. "Perhaps you've heard of me."

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 and resources than half the Alpha packs combined.

The man who killed without hesitation and slept peacefully afterward.

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

"You'd what? Act less like a pathetic child grabbing at a woman who clearly wants nothing to do with you?" Lucian's smile was a baring of teeth. "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 in the room knew it.

Damien's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. "Of course. I apologize for any—"

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

The ballroom was dead silent. Wolves stood frozen, watching their Alpha be forced into submission by an outsider.

Damien looked at me, and I saw so many emotions flash across his face. Shock. Confusion. Anger. And something that might have been regret, though it was three years too late for that to matter.

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

It should have felt good. Watching him humbled, forced to show me the respect he'd denied for five years. But all I felt was cold satisfaction and a pressing need to get Lucian's hand off me before my wolf did something stupid like lean into it.

"Apology noted," I said flatly. Then I turned to Gerald Hastings, who was watching the entire scene with fascinated interest. "Shall we discuss business, Mr. Hastings?"

"Absolutely!" He seemed delighted by the drama. "Mr. Volkov, you're welcome to join us. I believe you both have contracts with Ms. Cross, yes?"

"We do," Lucian said, still not moving his hand.

We started walking toward the private meeting rooms at the back of the ballroom. I could feel Damien's eyes burning into my back, could sense his confusion and rage radiating across the room.

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

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

He looked down at me, those amber eyes unreadable. "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 and one hand tied behind my back." I stepped away from him, 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 sharper than I intended. "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." His voice dropped lower. "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, the gesture almost gentle despite the intensity in his eyes. "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, and it was pure predator. "But you will. I always get what I want. And I want you."

Before I could respond, Gerald Hastings poked his head around the corner. "Are you two coming? I have a meeting in an hour and there's a lot to cover."

Lucian stepped back, his expression shifting to professional in an instant. "Of course."

We followed Gerald into a private 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 had joined him, clinging to his arm and whispering something urgently, but his eyes were locked on me.

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

Kai.

My son.

Eight years old now. Tall for his age. I could see the shape of his face had changed, lost that baby softness. He looked bored and restless, tugging at his collar while Damien ignored him completely in favor of staring at me.

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

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