Chapter 3

Elara pov

​The 88th floor of Blackwood Global was a cathedral of glass and arrogance. Usually, the air here smelled of expensive espresso and the sharp, metallic tang of the Alpha’s dominance. Today, it smelled like panic.

​Julian Blackwood stood at the head of the polished obsidian table, his knuckles white as he leaned over a tablet. His tailored suit jacket was discarded on a chair, his sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms corded with tension.

​"The funds didn't just move, Marcus," Julian’s voice was a low, vibrating growl that made the younger Betas in the room flinch. "They evaporated. Forty-nine percent of our infrastructure debt was bought by a shell company in the Cayman Islands, and then sold again within six milliseconds. Who is the trustee?"

​"We don't know, Alpha," Marcus whispered, his eyes darting to the floor. "The encryption is unlike anything we’ve seen. It’s... it’s silent. There’s no digital scent. No footprint. Whoever did this knows our systems better than we do."

​Julian slammed his fist into the table. The obsidian cracked—a hairline fracture that mirrored the instability of his empire. "I want them found. I want their head on—"

​The heavy oak doors to the boardroom didn't just open; they were bypassed. The electronic lock chirped a neutral blue, and the doors slid back with a soft, mechanical hiss.

​The room went dead silent.

​I stepped into the lion’s den, my heels clicking a slow, rhythmic beat against the marble floor. Behind me, Elias walked with the silent precision of a predator, his eyes shielded by dark lenses.

​Every head at the table turned. Every nostril flared. In a room full of Lycans, the arrival of a stranger usually triggered a wave of sensory data—scent, pheromones, the vibration of a wolf’s spirit.

​But as I walked toward the head of the table, the Alphas in the room began to look confused. Then, they looked terrified.

​To them, I was a ghost. My "Zero-Scent" tech was working perfectly. I wasn't radiating fear, or submission, or even the scent of a human. I was a void in their world.

​Julian froze. He didn't look at my suit or my jewelry. He looked straight into my eyes. For a split second, the CEO mask shattered. I saw the boy from the oak tree—wide-eyed, breathless, and haunted.

​"Elara?"

​The name left his lips like a prayer. It was the first time I’d heard him say it in five years, and for a heartbeat, the old scar in my chest throbbed. The bond—or the jagged hole where it used to be—tried to spark.

​I suppressed it with a cold, digital focus. I didn't smile. I didn't flinch.

​"You’re sitting in my chair, Julian," I said.

​My voice was smooth, amplified slightly by the neural-link in my throat to carry a commanding frequency. It wasn't the voice of an Omega. It was the voice of a creditor.

​"What is this?" Marcus shouted, standing up and reaching for his holster. "Who authorized this entry? Guards!"

​"The guards are currently staring at a loop of their own coffee break on their monitors, Marcus," I said, not spareing him a glance. "And I authorized myself. As of 9:00 AM this morning, Silent Vendetta Holdings is the primary lien-holder for this building, the satellites orbiting your territories, and the very desk you're leaning on."

​I walked to the head of the table. Julian didn't move. He stood paralyzed, his eyes roaming my face as if he were trying to find a scent he recognized. His nostrils twitched desperately. He was an Alpha; his brain was screaming that I shouldn't exist.

​"You have no scent," he whispered, his voice trembling with a mix of horror and a sudden, violent longing. "You’re dead. I watched the reports. The river... the Wastelands..."

​"You watched what you wanted to believe, Julian," I said, leaning over the table until I was inches from his face. I could smell him—the cedarwood and the storm-clouds. It was a beautiful scent. It was the scent of a lie. "But data doesn't lie. And according to my ledger, the Blackwood Pack has defaulted on its last three infrastructure loans. You’ve been over-leveraged for years, hiding the rot behind the Silver-Vane merger. But the Silver-Vanes can’t save you now. I bought them out, too."

​Julian’s eyes flashed a dangerous, predatory gold. His claws began to tip his fingers, ripping through the leather of his desk blotter. "You think you can come into my home and talk to me about debt? You are an Omega! You belong to—"

​"I belong to no one," I snapped, the frequency of my voice dropping into a range that caused the glass water pitchers on the table to shatter.

​The Alphas in the room winced, clutching their ears. My "Silent" tech wasn't just for hiding; it was for offensive dampening. I had neutralized his Alpha Command before he could even form the words.

​I pulled a slim, glass tablet from my portfolio and slid it across the cracked obsidian.

​"Forty-eight hours, Julian. That’s how long you have to vacate the executive suite. If you’re still here on Thursday morning, I’ll have the Enforcers remove you. And by Enforcers, I mean the human authorities. I’ve already filed the paperwork with the SEC. If you shift, if you use your wolf to resist, you’ll be labeled a domestic terrorist. Your 'Secret' world won't protect you from the human legal system."

​Julian grabbed the tablet, but he wasn't looking at the numbers. He was looking at the small, silver wolf-brooch I had pinned to my lapel. It was the same one he’d given me—repaired, polished, and sharper than ever.

​"Why are you doing this, Elara?" he choked out. The anger was fading, replaced by a raw, bleeding regret that filled the room. "If you needed help... if you survived... why didn't you come to me?"

​I felt a cold, sharp laugh bubble up in my throat. "Come to you? The man who told me I was a glitch in his system? The man who threw me to the wolves—literally?"

​I leaned in closer, my voice a lethal whisper.

​"I didn't come back to be helped, Julian. I came back to be the glitch that crashes your entire world. You wanted a 'True-Blood' future? You’re looking at it. It’s cold, it’s silent, and it doesn't care about your fated bonds."

​I turned on my heel, my cloak swirling behind me.

​"Elias, we’re done here."

​"Wait!" Julian roared, stepping around the table.

​He reached for my arm—a move of pure desperation. But before he could touch me, Elias moved with a speed that shouldn't have been possible for a "human." He stepped between us, his hand catching Julian’s wrist in a grip that made the Alpha’s bones groan.

​"Don't," Elias said, his voice a low, mechanical warning.

​Julian stared at Elias, then back at me. He was trembling. The most powerful Alpha in the tri-state area was falling apart in front of his entire board of directors.

​"This isn't over, Elara," Julian called out as I reached the doors. "You can hide your scent, and you can hide your heart, but you can't hide from the bond! I can feel you! You’re still mine!"

​I paused at the threshold, but I didn't look back.

​"According to the ledger, Julian, you’re bankrupt. And in my world... you can’t claim what you can’t afford."

​The doors slid shut, cutting off his roar of agony.

​As I walked toward the elevator, my hands finally began to shake. The "Zero-Scent" was holding, but the psychological toll was immense. I had won the first round, but I knew Julian. He wouldn't go quietly into the night. He would hunt me.

​And more importantly, Isabella Silver-Vane had been silent during the entire meeting. She had been sitting in the corner, her eyes fixed on my brooch, a look of murderous realization on her face.

​The war had officially begun.

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