Chapter 39 Finn Novels & Stories

I knew it from Finn's locked files. I crossed my legs and leaned back slightly in my chair and listened to the tall one resume talking about territorial boundaries and resource corridors, and I made the appropriate sounds of engagement, and in the back of my mind I was very quietly building a wall around what I just saw so that nothing on my face reflected what was happening behind it. ~~~ The dissolved pack. Finn had exactly one file on them — I'd only seen the cover page, which was more than he knew. He kept the file in the lower drawer of his desk, the one with the secondary lock that he thought I didn’t know the combination to.

"Why is everyone looking like this?" Finn, still in my arms, tugged at my collar, pulling back to look at me. "Mommy, look," he whispered, pointing at the book Theo was holding. "That’s the broken wing I saw. The day I saw things from the water in the garden.” My heart skipped a beat. I gently set Finn down and went ahead to collect the book Theo was holding. I looked down at the page he left open in between his fingers. It was an old record of Northern myths and mercenary guilds. On the open page was the sketch of a single, snapped wing. Hunters of the Silver Moon.

I stared at him helplessly but said nothing. A colleague at the next desk finally couldn't hold back and muttered under their breath, "Madeleine hasn't done anything wrong. Didn't Naomi from finance do the same thing? It's been over a month, and Madeleine still has a pile of expense reports waiting for reimbursement. Why does finance get credit for doing this, but sales gets the criticism?" Lincoln caught on instantly. He didn't argue and simply walked off. In under two minutes, he came back, holding Naomi by the arm and forcing her to stand in front of me.

Morning. The words cut through the last softness of the night. Finn sees the truth with painful clarity. Everett belongs to a world of statements, family alliances, powerful marriages, and names that open doors instead of locking them. He belongs to towers, boardrooms, private elevators, guards, contracts, and women like Vera Lawson, polished enough to stand beside him in public without damaging anything. Finn is a poor male Omega from Lark Street who woke behind a gold door. At best, he is a problem Everett protected in private.

DARE'S POV The rain hammered the windshield as my driver navigated the winding roads toward Finn’s secluded townhouse on the outskirts of London. My blood still boiled from the confrontation in my father’s study. Victor’s threats echoed like a death knell— send her away—and Julian’s smug face haunted every shadow. I needed clarity, strategy, and someone who understood the machine I was trapped in without being another cog in Victor’s wheel. Finn Carlisle had been that someone since Spain. My right hand. My brother in arms through the darkest deals and sleepless nights. He opened the door before I could knock, his sharp eyes reading my expression instantly.

“Fuck you, Charles.” I laughed and took another sip of my beer. Damn, it was good. I wondered what it took to get these barrels in. I looked over at the bar and Finn had been switched out for the shorter wolf, he had deep circles under his eyes and was a grey color. Wrinkling my nose, I turned back to the group. “What?” “That Finn is a damn mountain. If he had any Alpha blood, he’d be a fucking force to be reckoned with.” Nat chuckled. “Our Alpha, feeling insecure? Who would have thought.”

"Finn, my processing is entirely blind to the specific crime I have committed." "You possessed zero territorial right to introduce that monster into my private sanctuary. This structure represents my absolute stronghold, Val. My ultimate escape from the pack's demands. I do not permit a single external entity to breach this perimeter." "But... he constitutes your biological sire?" "My sire? Does your independent mind desire an explicit education on the precise definition of his fatherhood?" Saturated with an uncontrollable rage that demanded an immediate outlet, Finn violently ripped his shirt over his head, casting it to the floor, forcing the omega’s eyes to track the extensive network of

He was the one who flung himself onto the fuckers back and helped pin him whilst the others tore into it. “I mean, I’m just thinking of the shit-ton of gold I’m going to get at the end of all this. I’ll be able to buy my boat, get the hell away…” “Boat?” I managed to splutter. My eyes opened enough to take a good look at Finn. Despite our frosty start he was a hell of a beast. Shoulders twice as wide as mine, terrifyingly large like his father.

Chapter Three Hundred and Thirty *The unexpected and Sad Revelation* Finn's (once Drake but will be called his real name henceforth)hammered as he paced the narrow room with the burner phone clutched tightly in his right hand and his left hand frantically raking through his sandy brown hair. Every creak of the floor, every rustle outside the window, seemed like it could be Fergus’s men clawing closer. They were running out of time. With the government closing in and Fergus’s rage nearly tangible, Finn knew their only chance was to reach out to someone who could help them disappear.

"But Finn is not those people. Finn is a seven-year-old who told Parliament that Uncle Callum earned his position and that earning matters more than being born to something. He is not the tool they are trying to make him." I think about Finn, who arrived three days ago and who looked at everything in London with the quality of someone for whom everything is new and therefore everything is interesting, and who sat in the shelter courtyard and counted the pigeons and told me their specific flight patterns, and who has Cormac's jaw in the way that I have Valentina's eyes, which is to say something of someone who is not here is visible in someone who is. "We're both supposed to be something," I