All Chapters of The Billionaire Alpha's Revenge: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

The silence in the command center was a physical entity. It was a cold, heavy blanket woven from the hum of quantum servers, the scent of chilled, recycled air, and the collective, suspended breath of the most powerful people in Jack Miller’s new world. On the main holographic display, the sprawling grid of the city's power network, once a serene blue, was now leprous with a constellation of pulsating red dots. And at the top of the screen, a new, unwelcome addition blared in stark, scarlet numerals: a countdown timer.71:39:17Each descending number was a silent, mocking heartbeat, a testament to the Auditor's chilling efficiency. Lorian hadn’t declared war with a roar; he had done it with a quiet, irrefutable mathematical formula, turning the very lifeblood of the city into a weapon aimed at its own heart."He's turned the grid into a capacitor," Aria’s voice was unnaturally tight, stripped of its usual sarcastic swagger. Her fingers, usually a blur of confident motion, were frozen

The command center was a tomb of silent fury. The data card, an obsidian sliver of pure insult, sat in the center of the main console, radiating a quiet, menacing energy. Aria had it quarantined in a shielded diagnostic cradle, her digital scalpels methodically peeling back its layers of encryption.“No viruses, no logic bombs, no tracking software,” she reported, her brow furrowed in concentration. She spun her chair around to face Jack and Catherine. “It’s clean. Too clean. It contains a single, heavily compressed file. And it’s not locked. It’s… waiting.”Catherine stood with her arms crossed, her face a mask of cold fury. The sight of the Sterling Industries logo on that card felt like a violation, a smear of filth on her family’s legacy. This was Lorian’s method: he didn't use brute force; he used precision-guided psychological munitions. This file was not intel; it was a weapon, aimed not at their infrastru

The silence that descended upon the command center was heavier than the blast doors of the vault. On the main tactical display, two squad icons that had been pulsing with a steady, reassuring green were now gone. Not red, not yellow. Just gone. Vanished from the network as if they had ceased to exist. In their place, only the cold, indifferent grid of the city map remained.“What happened?” Jack’s voice was a low growl, a dangerous calm that preceded a storm.“I don’t know,” Aria said, her fingers flying across her console, her face a pale mask in the glow of the screen. “Their comms, their vitals, their location trackers—everything cut out at the exact same microsecond. No distress call. No system failure alerts. They were just… erased.”It was a clean, professional, impossibly fast decapitation strike. Lorian, humiliated on the financial battlefield, had retaliated on the physical one with a terrifyi

The air in the subterranean chamber crackled, a tense, humming silence stretched between the two Alphas. On one side, Jack stood amidst his fallen pack, a wounded, cornered predator, his body a canvas of raw fury and coiled power. On the other, Lorian stood with the placid, infuriating calm of a chess master who has just announced checkmate. The two grey bodyguards at his side were not just muscle; they were pawns, positioned to force Jack into a fatal move.“You believe this is a confrontation of strength, Mr. Miller,” Lorian said, his voice a smooth, condescending lecture. “It is not. It is an acquisition. My objective is to acquire you, the most valuable asset in this territory, with minimal damage to the product. Your unique, uncorrupted bloodline is of immense interest to the Fenrir Council’s research and development division. We wish to understand you, to replicate you, and ultimately, to improve upon you.”As he spoke, the two Grey Men

The Auditor’s scream was a symphony of agony. It wasn’t the raw, defiant roar of a wounded warrior, but the high-pitched, terrified shriek of a god who had just discovered his own mortality. The neurotoxin in Jack’s bite was not a physical poison; it was a psychic acid, dissolving the intricate lattice of Lorian’s mental control, turning his greatest weapon against him.Lorian scrambled backward through the darkness of the subterranean tunnels, his impeccable suit now torn and grimy, his face a mask of disbelief and pain. The calm, calculating chess master was gone, replaced by a panicked animal.“Impossible…” he gasped, his voice a ragged, wet sound. “A mongrel… a half-blood… you cannot possess the Progenitor’s Venom!”But Jack did. The intense pressure of the last few days—the psychological warfare, the threat to his pack, the mental assault—had acted as a crucible. It had burned