Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
Isit at the table in the conference room down the hall from Caleb’s office. King, Maverick, and Everett sit across from me.
Everett’s face is bruised, his right eye swollen shut. He entered the room with a limp, and he hasn’t spoken a word since taking his seat.
I glance at King’s and Maverick’s knuckles. Scabbed and bloody.
My lips twitch. Serves Everett right.
Caleb sits beside me at the head of the table. Adam is on my other side. Sash, Logan, and two other shifters I’m unfamiliar with are farther down. Every seat is full.
Hudson’s playmat is on the floor near the door, but Rosy and Grace came up earlier to collect him. He’s currently keeping them company at the reception desk downstairs. He doesn’t need to be here for this meeting. It’s too important to risk distraction.
I can’t wait to bring him home. Caleb has already had our things packed and moved to the new house. There should be several shifters working on it as we speak.
The sooner we’re moved in, the sooner we can bring Hudson home.
I can’t wait.
Some of Caleb’s pack members are confused about why we’re choosing to adopt Hudson over birthing a child. They’re even more perplexed when they learn that Caleb and I are pushing back our non-discussed timeline for having a biological child to do so.
I don’t care. What does it matter whether or not Hudson came bulldozing out of my vagina? If anything, I’m relieved I get to be a mom without taking on the risk of hemorrhoids. I just know that Caleb will create giant babies, and I’m not looking forward to pushing them out of me.
This is the best of both worlds.
“You’re plugging in the wrong cord,” Sash whispers.
Logan looks like he’s about to burst a blood vessel, and he angrily steps back while Sash sets up the video camera. We’re all facing the television mounted on the wall.
I bounce my leg, my nerves at an all-time high as the screen turns on. Caleb is having a video call with the top American government officials. I’m petrified, and I can’t hide it. It’s a good thing that only Caleb’s face will be visible on the call.
He’s not looking to expose the appearance of the other alphas and vital members of his pack. The less the American government knows about us, the better.
Sash and Logan continue to quietly bicker. They’ve been bickering a lot lately, I suspect due to Sash’s pregnancy. She finally told Logan, and he’s been hovering over her. He seems to think she needs his constant protection.
Sash doesn’t appreciate it.
I shut my eyes, urging myself to remain calm. I can’t control the outcome of this meeting, and there’s no use getting worked up over it.
The television lights up as the call connects, displaying Caleb's image. Almost immediately, a second image appears on the screen as the Americans join the call. Only three humans are visible, but I’m sure several more are sitting just beyond the lens.
I blow out a breath.
The men who built HPAW are sitting on the other side of that screen.
The man in the center is the American President. Anthony Moore. His gray hair is immaculately cut and styled, and his skin is tanned. He looks important—and confident—as he clasps his hands on the table before him.
Moore stares directly into the camera with a neutral expression. To the left of him is a poised, dark-haired woman, and to his right is an older man who looks vaguely familiar.
I think this is Director Grant.
President Moore is the first to speak. “Alpha Knox. We appreciate you taking this call.”
Caleb leans back in his chair, his eyes narrowing. “I assume you’re looking to discuss the dismantling of HPAW.”
Straight to the point.
Moore frowns.
The shifters aren’t known for their political grace, and this conversation probably isn’t following the unspoken rules and formalities the Americans are used to.
Moore gestures to the man on his right. “I believe you’ve already met our Director of National Sec—”
“Are you prepared to discuss dismantling HPAW?” Caleb interrupts. “If not, I’m not wasting my time.”
Moore does an excellent job hiding his reaction, but the man and woman on either side of him aren’t as successful. Their eyes narrow, and they cut sideways glances at Moore before regaining their composure and turning back to the camera.
I doubt they’re spoken to like this often.
Moore lifts his chin. “Yes,” he says. “That’s what we’re here to discuss.”
My heart pounds, and I’m sure it’s not the only one in the room doing so.
Moore continues. “If you withdraw your forces from the southern border and issue a statement acknowledging your role in the attacks on HPAW facilities, we’re prepared to shut the organization down.”
I suck my cheeks into my mouth, holding back everything I want to say.
Caleb taps his fingers against the table.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
You could hear a pin drop from across the room.
“I say nothing until HPAW is dismantled,” Caleb finally says. “If you meet our terms, I’ll consider a statement.”
Moore presses his lips together. He doesn’t look pleased. “That’s not how this works.”
Caleb shrugs, looking entirely unconcerned. “I’m not afraid of change. Are you?” He straightens up, appearing larger on the camera. “These are our terms. You can accept them as they are, or not at all.”
President Moore’s face turns a light shade of red. The woman beside him speaks up. “We will need time to discuss.”
Her voice is sharp.
Caleb shakes his head. “No. You’ve had ample time to discuss. These are our terms, and we want an answer now.”
Fuck yeah, we do.
There’s a glass of water on the table in front of Moore. He reaches for it, the gold ring on his ring finger catching the light. It’s hard to imagine somebody loving somebody so wretched.
He takes a long sip of his drink, procrastinating.
I’m antsy with impatience.
Moore leans back, studying Caleb like he’s trying to decide how far he can push.
“You’re asking for a lot, Alpha Knox.”
“I am not.”
Moore frowns. “…We’ll issue the order,” he finally says. “If you agree to discretion.”
Moore shifts in his seat, visibly on edge while he waits for Caleb’s response.
It’s crazy to think that the man who spent the better part of an hour between my thighs last night is the same man making the American President fidget.
I can’t decide whether I should be upset that Moore hasn’t addressed the humans we took from the facility. I wonder if it’s because Moore knows that they’re better off here. They aren’t prisoners, and there’s no reason to pretend they are.
“Very well,” Caleb says. “You dismantle HPAW. I stay quiet.”
Everett shifts in his seat, jaw tight. He doesn’t argue. For once.
The woman besides Moore speaks. “Give us one moment.”
Their camera and audio shut off. Several excruciating minutes pass before Moore reappears on the screen.
He doesn’t speak right away. He stares at the screen, his gaze tracking over Caleb’s face. If he’s looking for weakness, he won’t find any.
“The order will be signed today,” he finally says. “HPAW will be officially shut down by the end of the business week.” He pauses. “We will be issuing a public statement framing this as a de-escalation effort.”
It’s not the truth, but it gets us the result we want.
Caleb dips his chin.
Moore glances at the woman on his left. He never did introduce her. I could probably look her up, but I doubt I will. She’s not important to me.
Moore offers a painfully disingenuous smile. “Then it’s settled. We will be in contact shortly with further details.”
The call ends. I draw in a deep breath.
Nobody speaks. Not right away.
Maverick breaks the silence. “I expect to be included in those discussions.”
“As do I,” King chimes in.
Everett only grunts.
I’m too stunned to speak. Is it that simple? Caleb makes a bullshit statement and orders the shifters to return to the pack lands, and Moore will officially dismantle HPAW. It seems too good to be true.
“What’s to stop him from lying?” I ask. “He could say it’s dismantled and keep it running anyway.”
Caleb bobs his head. “He could. There’d be consequences. Moore is well aware that any deviance from our plan will be met with retaliation.”
“Humans are weak,” Maverick chimes in. “Sniveling, short-sighted creatures. Moore won’t risk a war, not after going through this much effort to avoid one.”
He turns, meeting my eye. “No offense.”
He doesn’t sound sorry.
I don’t care.
We won.