Chapter Three: The Boardroom Battle

The glass doors of Vane Industries hissed open, and the atmosphere shifted instantly.

Every head in the lobby turned. I could feel the weight of a hundred stares as I walked half a step behind Silas, my heels clicking a sharp, defiant rhythm on the marble. I was wearing a new suit—navy, sharp-edged, and expensive enough to be armor—but my skin felt like it was still vibrating from the heat in the SUV.

"Don't look at them, Elena," Silas murmured, his voice barely audible. "Look at the elevator. You’re the only person in this building who matters."

"Easy for you to say," I whispered back, keeping my eyes forward. "You're not the one everyone thinks just slept her way into a penthouse."

"Let them think about it. It keeps them afraid of you."

We reached the executive elevator. The moment the doors slid shut, the professional mask Silas had been wearing slipped. He didn't touch me, but the air in the small space became heavy, saturated with his scent. He stood too close, his presence a physical weight that made the silver glow at my fingertips pulse once, twice, before I clenched my hands into fists.

"The board is already in the conference room," he said, his voice dropping into that dark, Alpha register. "They’ve heard about the 'Security Breach' at the office. They’re going to push for a replacement. They’ll say you’re a liability."

"A liability?" I let out a sharp, dry laugh. "I’m the only one who found the missing million in the Mercer account while you were busy growling at the furniture."

"Exactly. Use that. Don't be the secretary today, Elena. Be the storm."

The elevator dinged on the 50th floor. Silas stepped out first, his shoulders broad, his aura so dominant that the receptionists visibly recoiled as he passed. I followed, clutching my tablet like a shield.

The boardroom was a cage of glass and steel. Twelve men and women sat around the mahogany table, their faces grim. At the head of the table sat Arthur, the oldest member of the board and a man who had been trying to unseat Silas for a decade.

"Silas," Arthur said, his voice like sandpaper. "We were beginning to think you weren't coming. And I see you’ve brought your... assistant."

"Senior Secretary," I corrected, stepping into the room before Silas could speak. I didn't wait for an invitation. I walked to the head of the table and slid my tablet into the central hub, projecting the Mercer files onto the wall-sized screens. "And I’m here because while the board was sleeping, I was reconciling the accounts you all managed to lose track of."

The room went silent. Arthur’s eyes narrowed, shifting from me to Silas. "The internal security report says there was an incident here two nights ago. Blood was found, Silas. The cleaners reported a 'predatory' scent. The shareholders are nervous."

"The shareholders are paid to be nervous," Silas rasped, taking his seat at the head of the table. He didn't look at Arthur; he looked at me. "Ms. Reyes has the floor. I suggest you listen. She’s the only reason Vane Industries isn't facing a federal audit this morning."

I felt the heat of Silas’s gaze on my back—a literal, physical warmth that made the air shimmer. I opened the files, my fingers flying across the glass screen. But as I started to speak, I felt it.

A cold, greasy sensation crawled up my spine.

It wasn't Silas. This was different. It was the scent of rot and old iron. One of the people at this table wasn't just a board member. They were a traitor.

I paused, my heart hammering. I looked at the faces around the table, searching for the gold in their eyes, but they all looked human. Then, I saw it. A faint, silver mist was clinging to the sleeve of Arthur’s suit.

Seeker poison.

The realization hit me like a physical blow. They weren't here for a meeting. They were here for an execution.

I didn't stop the presentation. If I showed fear now, Silas would scent it, and the beast behind his eyes would tear this room apart before I could find the proof.

"As you can see on the screen," I said, my voice as cold as the marble lobby, "the trail leads back to a series of shell companies. All of them authorized under a singular signature."

I moved closer to Arthur, the scent of the poison getting stronger. It smelled like a graveyard in the middle of a thunderstorm. My skin started to crawl, the silver light under my fingernails pulsing in a rapid, frantic warning. Silas felt it. I saw his knuckles whiten as he gripped the edge of the table, his nostrils flaring.

"Whose signature, Ms. Reyes?" Arthur asked, his voice smooth, but I saw the way his hand twitched toward his breast pocket.

"Yours, Arthur," I said, turning to face him fully.

The room gasped. Silas stood up, the chair flying backward and hitting the glass wall with a crack that sounded like a gunshot. The professional CEO was gone. His eyes were pure, molten gold, and the air in the room became so heavy it was hard to draw a breath.

"Arthur," Silas growled, a sound that made the water in the glasses on the table ripple. "Explain why my secretary is looking at a Seeker's mark on your soul."

Arthur didn't panic. He smiled—a slow, hideous grin that stretched his face too far. "Your Anchor is sharp, Silas. A little too sharp for a human. But it doesn't matter. The air in this room has been saturated for twenty minutes. You’re already breathing it."

He pulled a small, black vial from his pocket and smashed it on the mahogany table.

A thick, violet mist exploded outward. It wasn't smoke—it was a toxin designed to paralyze a wolf’s nervous system. I watched Silas stumble, his hand catching the table as the gold in his eyes flickered and dimmed. The other board members scrambled, screaming and tripping over each other to get to the doors.

"Silas!" I screamed, lunging for him.

"Stay... back..." he gasped, his knees hitting the floor. He looked at me, his face contorted in agony. "Elena... run..."

"I'm not leaving you," I snapped.

I didn't feel the paralysis. Whatever Silas was, I was his Anchor, and that meant his strengths were mine—and apparently, his weaknesses weren't. I grabbed a heavy glass carafe from the table and shattered it, the water soaking into the carpet, but the glass shard in my hand was the only weapon I had.

Arthur stood over Silas, a silver blade gleaming in his hand. "The Silver Moon falls today. And I’ll start by cutting the heart out of your little human."

He turned to me, the blade leveled at my throat. I didn't back down. I felt a surge of heat from the bond, a wild, electric power that shot from Silas’s weakened body into mine. My hands didn't just glow; they burned.

"You want my heart?" I whispered, my voice sounding deeper, layered with a growl that wasn't mine. "Come and take it.”

Arthur lunged.

He was fast, fueled by whatever dark deal he’d made with the Seekers, but the world had slowed down for me. I didn't see the room anymore; I saw threads of energy. I saw the violet mist as a physical weight I could push aside.

I didn't use the glass shard. As he swung the silver blade toward my chest, I stepped into his guard, my palm connecting with his sternum.

A shockwave of silver light exploded from my hand.

The sound was like a transformer blowing out. Arthur was lifted off his feet, his body slamming into the floor-to-ceiling glass window with a sickening thud. The reinforced pane spider-webbed but didn't break. He slumped to the carpet, the silver blade clattering uselessly away, his chest smoking where I had touched him.

I didn't spare him a second glance. I dropped to my knees beside Silas.

"Silas! Look at me!"

His skin was gray, the violet toxin mapping out his veins like a poison grid. He was gasping, his lungs seizing as the Seeker mist fought to shut down his heart.

"Elena..." he choked out, his fingers clawing at the carpet. "The... bond... take it back..."

"I'm not taking anything back," I hissed.

I grabbed his face, forcing him to look at me. I could feel the power I’d just used—the Alpha’s power—recoiling, looking for a way home. It was too much for me; it felt like my blood was boiling, my heart ready to burst from the sheer voltage.

I pressed my forehead against his.

"Take it," I commanded. "Take the energy. Take the life. I am your Anchor, Silas. Use me."

I didn't wait for him to find the strength. I opened the door in my mind, the one I’d been keeping slammed shut since that first drop of blood hit the desk. I let the floodgates open.

The sensation was agonizing and beautiful. A roar of white-hot light surged from my chest into his. Silas arched off the floor, his eyes snapping open—not gray, not gold, but a blinding, supernova white.

The violet mist in the room didn't just dissipate; it incinerated. The air pressure dropped so sharply that the remaining glass carafes on the table shattered simultaneously.

Silas’s hand found the back of my head, holding me there as he drained the excess power, his body absorbing the silver light until his skin regained its bronze glow. His breathing evened out, becoming a deep, rhythmic growl that vibrated through my entire skeleton.

He sat up, pulling me into his lap, his arms wrapping around me with a grip that would have broken a normal woman’s ribs.

"You're a fool," he whispered into my hair, his voice thick with raw emotion. "You could have died."

"And you’re a billionaire who just let a senile board member poison him," I retorted, though I was shaking so hard I could barely get the words out. "I think we’re even."

Silas pulled back, his eyes finally settling into a steady, glowing gold. He looked at Arthur, who was groaning on the floor, then back at me. The predatory Ice King was back, but there was something new in his gaze—an absolute, terrifying adoration.

"The meeting is adjourned," Silas said, his voice echoing through the empty boardroom.

He stood up, lifting me with him as if I weighed nothing. He didn't look at the cameras or the ruined office. He walked straight toward the door, his hand finding the back of my neck, his thumb tracing the spot where his mark would soon be.

"Marcus!" Silas barked into his lapel mic. "Clean up the boardroom. And bring the secondary car. We’re going to the sanctuary."

"What about the Mercer files?" I asked, my witty mind trying to find a footing in the chaos.

"Forget the files, Elena," Silas rasped, pinning me against the elevator door as it slid shut. "We have twenty-four hours until the full moon. And after what you just did... I’m not waiting another second to claim you.”