All Chapters of The Billionaire Alpha's Revenge: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

The sensation was unlike anything Jack had ever experienced. It wasn't a sound, nor was it a vision. It was a map, etched not onto paper, but directly onto the canvas of his consciousness. A sprawling, three-dimensional tapestry of the entire city, woven from threads of instinct and dominance. With a mere thought, he could feel them—the scattered, hidden heartbeats of his kind. Each werewolf in the metropolis was a distinct point of light on this mental chart. Some flickered with a cold, blue terror, like mice hiding from a hawk. Others pulsed with a neutral, steady white, the glow of lone wolves minding their own affairs. And then there were the others—clusters of angry, defiant red, throbbing like infected wounds. These were the established packs, the local tyrants who had yet to bend the knee.This was the first true gift of his ascendant Alpha bloodline: the [Wolf Pack's Call]. It wasn't just a summons; it was a census, a divine right to know every corner of h

Defeating David’s corporate attack was like cutting the head off a hydra; two more grew in its place. The first was the enraged and now-re-funded Crimson Fangs. The second, and more insidious, was the shadowy organization that had empowered them. Jack knew that dealing with David directly was pointless now. He was no longer the puppet master, merely the wallet. The real threat was the rabid dog he had unleashed, Viktor, and the invisible hand that held his new leash. Jack decided it was time for a face-to-face conversation.The summons came from Viktor himself, arrogant and emboldened by his mysterious new benefactor. An attack on a small, isolated Sterling Industries warehouse—not for theft, but for destruction—was followed by a cryptic message delivered to Marcus: "The Alpha of the Fangs requests a parley with the lapdog of the Sterlings. The old slaughterhouse by the docks. Sunset. Come alone, or the media gets a very interesting package about where Sterl

The air in the Sterling mansion was thick with a suffocating tension. It clung to the damask curtains and settled like dust on the polished mahogany furniture. The emergency board meeting was less than 24 hours away, and the house felt like a castle under siege. David Sterling, having failed in his attempts at both corporate sabotage and supernatural thuggery, was now staking everything on this final, legitimate maneuver.He had spent the last two days calling every shareholder, every board member, using the temporary stock dip and the manufactured media panic as leverage. He painted Catherine as inexperienced and reckless, a captain running the family ship onto the rocks. His arguments, steeped in fear and uncertainty, were persuasive. He had collected enough proxy votes from panicked smaller investors and swayed enough of the old guard on the board that, on paper, the outcome was a certainty. Catherine was going to be ousted.David made no secret of his impending vic

The immediate aftermath of the boardroom coup was a controlled storm. Phones rang off the hook, news alerts flashed across every financial terminal in the city, and the name ‘Jack Miller’ went from a complete unknown to the most enigmatic and terrifying new player on Wall Street in the space of a single afternoon. The stock price of Sterling Industries, far from crashing, exploded upwards. Investors loved a strong, decisive leader, and the brutal, silent efficiency of the takeover by the "Primal Growth Fund" was the most decisive move the market had seen in years.Jack, however, was not in the war room celebrating with champagne. He stood with Catherine, Marcus, and Aaliyah in the quiet sanctuary of the CEO's office, the city lights twinkling below like a captured galaxy. The adrenaline of the confrontation had subsided, replaced by the cold, heavy weight of David's final, venomous threat."The Night Market," Aaliyah said, her fingers flying across a holographi

The ticking of a hundred clocks filled the small shop, each tick a grain of sand falling in a dozen different hourglasses. The air was thick with the scent of old wood, brass, and something else… something metallic and ancient, like dried blood on a forgotten altar. The old clockmaker’s pale blue eyes held Jack's gaze, and in their depths, Jack saw not the frailty of age, but the cold, patient wisdom of a reptile."You know who I am," Jack stated. It wasn't a question."The Market knows many things," the old man wheezed, setting his tools down with painstaking care. "It feels the shift in the currents of power. A wolf of your scent has not walked the world for a very long time. You reek of primal authority." He gestured a trembling hand towards a worn velvet stool in front of the counter. "Sit. Even kings must learn the rules."Jack remained standing. He was the predator here, not the customer. "I'm not here for a lesson. I'm here for access. You ar