Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
Luca’s POV
I stared at the television screen in my living room, my blood turning cold. I was already on thin ice with the board, the council of elders—hell, with anyone who still trusted me—and now this? The pack would never tolerate a leader making deals with rogues.
Rogues—outcasts of our kind—were known for killing without mercy, taking what wasn’t theirs, tearing apart the fragile peace of the city.
And I’d just been photographed with one.
Not just any rogue, but Cassius fucking Kane.
And the headline was the kind of poison that would keep the city foaming at the mouth for weeks.
My phone buzzed. My father. No doubt he wanted to yell into the phone and remind me of how disappointed he was in me.
I didn’t have the energy for that. Seconds later—another buzz.
A board member. Then two, three, until the damn thing was vibrating nonstop.
I ignored them all, my mind burning with one singular, violent thought: bash Cassius’ skull against a wall until it cracked open and painted the floor red.
I’d made it crystal clear what would happen if he ever double-crossed me, threatened me, or so much as looked Leila’s way. Apparently, the bastard had a death wish. And I was going to grant it.
Rage—white hot and consuming—flooded my system. My wolf surged forward, demanding blood. I grabbed my keys and stormed out of the apartment. My mother was already out of the building when I got downstairs.
The drive to the syndicate’s lair passed in a blur of fury. By the time I kicked down the steel door, every muscle in my body was coiled for violence. The same bouncer from before scrambled backward at the sight of me, his eyes wide with terror.
“Where is he?” I snarled
“I-I…”
I grabbed him by the throat and slammed him against the wall. “Where the hell is Cassius?”
He pointed a shaking finger toward the back door of the lair. “H-he just left.”
I released him with a shove, leaving him gasping on the floor as I rushed toward the back door.
Outside, I caught sight of the bastard sprinting toward a parked car, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder.
The moment he spotted me, his face drained of color.
“Alpha Vaughn—” He fumbled for his back pocket, reaching for what I was certain was a gun.
I didn’t give him the chance. In two long strides, I closed the distance, clamped my hand around his throat, and drove him back against the car hard enough to rattle the frame. His breath hitched as I pried the weapon from his pocket and hurled it across the pavement, well out of reach.
“How dare you set me up!” I growled, my grip tightening until his face started turning red.
I was releasing the frustration from everything—from Sterling Moreau pulling out of the deal, from the board members calling for a vote of confidence, from my mother returning to my life like a ghost from the past. Everything.
“I swear to you, I had nothing to do with it!” His lips trembled as he tried to pry my hand from his neck. He gasped, coughed, choked, but I didn’t let off.
My fist connected with his jaw, snapping his head to the side. Blood oozed from his split lip as he collapsed on the ground.
“What do you take me for? A fool?” Each word was punctuated by another blow—to his ribs, his stomach, his face. “You photographed me in your fucking lair and had it all over the news to make it appear like I was doing business with a shady fuck like you.”
Cassius tried to crawl away, but I caught his ankle and dragged him back.
“Please, you have to believe me,” he rasped. “I didn’t release that photo. I didn’t pay any reporters to leak that news. He only asked for the photo, and I gave it to him.”
My forehead creased. He? Who the hell was he talking about?
“Who?” I demanded, hauling him up by his shirt.
Blood ran from his nose, staining his shirt. His left eye was already swelling shut. But there was something else in his expression now—not just pain, but fear. The kind of bone-deep terror that came from knowing you’d crossed the wrong person.
“I can’t—if I tell you, he’ll kill me—”
I slammed him against the ground so hard that I heard the crack of bone. “He’s not here, Cassius. But I am. And if you don’t start talking, you’ll be dead before he ever gets the chance.”
My wolf was pressed against my skin now, claws threatening to emerge. The scent of his fear filled the room, sharp and acrid.
Cassius whimpered, his remaining good eye darting around like he was searching for an escape that didn’t exist.
“It wasn’t my idea,” he gasped. “I swear to you, it wasn’t my idea. He—he owns the syndicate. He’s the one who gives all the orders. I just follow them.”
Cassius didn’t run the syndicate? Charles’ investigation into the Black Talon placed Cassius at the head of the food chain.
And if Charles hadn’t figured out there was someone else calling the shots—because Charles was very good—then whoever it was must be doing a damn good job keeping a low profile.
Or…Cassius was lying. Anything to save his ass from getting beaten beyond the point where even plastic surgeons could fix his face.
“I said—who?” The word tore from my throat like a roar. “I’m not going to repeat myself.” The promise in my voice was as sharp as a blade.
“Victor!” he screamed. “Victor Vaughn! Your brother—he owns the Black Talon! He’s been running it for years!”
The words hit me like a physical blow. Victor?
How is that? I shook my head. My brother wasn’t smart enough to pull off a good job as CFO of Vaughn Industries. How could he possibly run a thriving syndicate built on everything illegal?
Perhaps your first mistake is underestimating him. My subconscious gnawed at me.
He hated me—that much was clear. He’d tried to sabotage me out of my company, put ideas in my father’s head to make me appear incompetent, and tried to compete with me when it came to my Mate. That was the extent of his hate. Or so I thought.
“You’re lying,” I said, but even as the words left my mouth, I knew he wasn’t.
“I swear to you, Alpha Vaughn—I’m not.” Pure, unfiltered fear flickered across his features. “He said…he said you’d never suspect him,” Cassius wheezed, blood dripping from his mouth.
“The debt—your woman’s debt,” he continued voluntarily.
“He told us to keep pressuring her. Said it would make her desperate. Make her vulnerable to the point that she would have no other choice but to seek help from him.” Cassius struggled to sit up, wincing with each movement.
“And the photos on the news, he called late last night, demanding it. I swear to you, I was just following orders.”
Disbelief filled me, along with a cold clarity. Every cruel twist in Leila’s life led back to him.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I reached for it with my free hand, still holding Cassius’s weak body by the neck, ready to shut the damn thing off.
But when I saw the caller ID—Grant—I hit the answer button.
I’d given him an assignment days ago, and if he was calling now, it meant he finally had the answers I needed.
“Is now a bad time? I mean, with everything I’m seeing on the news—”
“Fucking speak, Grant.” I roared into the receiver, cutting him off.
He swallowed. “I looked into that detail in Vaughn Industries from five years ago, and you were right. It doesn’t add up.
On a surface level, it looked like the sum of five million dollars was wired to a certain account with the name Leila Carter,” he continued.
“But that name was just a cover. The account that received the money—it wasn’t Leila’s.
It was a shell account, completely fabricated.
The digital trail leads back to someone with administrative access to your systems. Someone inside the company. ”
“Who?” My voice was pure steel.
I heard him breathe through the receiver. “I couldn’t believe it when the name popped up. I thought it had to be a mistake—after all, he’s handling a lot of the finances at Vaughn Industries.”
He hadn’t yet said the name, but I had a nagging feeling who it was.
“It was calculated—smart, I’ll give him that.
He shut down every loose end that could trace it back to him.
But he’s no match for my prowess.” I could hear the smug satisfaction in Grant’s voice before the final blow landed.
“It’s your brother. He orchestrated the theft at Vaughn Industries five years ago and made it look like Leila Carter was responsible.
The real owner of that account? Victor Vaughn. ”
The world tilted on its axis.
Everything I’d believed—every reason I’d had for rejecting Leila—was a lie. An elaborate, calculated lie crafted by my own brother to destroy that one good thing in my life. I’d known, deep down, that Leila was innocent. But hearing Grant confirm it?
I’d clearly underestimated the depth of his hate. I’d always known he was vile—a snake—but for all his claims about having feelings for Leila, he’d dared to hurt her like this?
I didn’t even care that he’d come at me. He came at her, stole five years of my life with her. Forced her into debt until it bled her dry. Made her carry the weight of a crime she didn’t commit.
Anger blindsided me. My grip tightened on the phone before I hung up. I rose from where Cassius lay broken on the floor.
Without another word, I stood and walked away. Cassius wasn’t the real enemy—he was just a puppet.
And God help me, I was going to kill the puppet master. Brother be damned.
Victor lived in a penthouse on the Upper East Side, and as I drove there, rage simmered in my veins. But nothing could have prepared me for the sickness I was about to walk into.
The elevator ride to the top floor felt like an eternity. Each passing second hardened my rage into something colder, sharper.
Music pounded through the walls when I stepped inside. I followed the bass down a hallway until the red glow drew me in.