Chapter Six #2
The response is immediate. A round of burbling ripples through the room.
This time, it was less pleasant and tinged with surprise and perhaps a hint of discontent.
My declaration that I will be working primarily with the Kayes stirs a mixed reaction among the attendees, their previous satisfaction giving way to unease.
Eyes shift around the table, measuring the significance of this new alignment.
The Kayes, after all, have not been without controversy in recent times, and my decision to align with them so openly has clearly caught many off guard.
I wait patiently as the murmuring dies down, the room gradually returning to a state of attentive silence. When the last whisper fades, I continue, my voice calm but carrying the weight of conviction.
“Augustus Kaye has proven himself a man of honor. There is no reason to continue distancing yourselves from him,” I begin, letting my words hang in the air for a moment.
“Faced with a difficult situation, he has acted nobly, even to the detriment of his own wife. He has been a trusted business partner to many of you here and a model statesman in the city.”
As I speak, I notice a subtle shift in the atmosphere, and the tension begins to dissipate. My words are having the desired effect, softening their resistance and coaxing them toward agreement. I see nods of understanding, and a few faces relax as the logic of my stance becomes apparent.
“And, for anyone who hasn’t been paying attention,” I continue, leaning slightly forward, my tone taking on a sharper edge, “his daughter is the White Wolf. Avoiding dealings with him at this point may very well be career suicide.”
The impact of my words is immediate and palpable.
A fresh wave of buzz ripples through the room, but this time they are more subdued and thoughtful.
Heads begin to nod in agreement, the attendees clearly absorbing the full weight of what I’ve said.
The room, once filled with hesitation, now teems with a cautious acceptance.
Augustus Kaye’s name, once shadowed by doubt, is being gradually restored to its former stature.
“Bullshit!” The word cuts through the room like a blade, rippling across the gathered faces. My eyes dart, quickly identifying the source. One of the attendees has risen to his feet, his voice ringing out again, louder this time. “Bullshit!”
The room falls into a stunned silence, the shock palpable.
I glance around, catching the expressions of the other attendees, especially the older ones.
Their faces are a mix of horror and disbelief and their eyes wide with apprehension.
They are appalled by his audacity, but more than that, they fear what my response might be.
“So, because his daughter is the White Wolf, we should all just fawn over him?” the man continues, his voice dripping with disdain. “My family is far more deserving of being principal partners. Our reputation is pristine, better than any other here, and…”
He continues to speak, but his words begin to fade, losing coherence as my attention drifts.
I glance him over; he’s a frail-looking boy, all bluster and no substance.
I could snap him in half if I wanted to.
He talks fast, a rapid-fire barrage of words that, in the end, say nothing of consequence.
Some of the attendees roll their eyes, clearly accustomed to such petulant outbursts.
Others look nervously between him and me as they anticipate my reaction.
He continues to prattle on, his voice rising and falling with false bravado until finally, he pauses to catch his breath. The room holds its collective breath, the air thick with expectation.
“What is your name?” I ask, fixing him with an unwavering stare.
“What?” he responds, a note of confusion in his voice.
I lean forward, resting my elbows on the table. “I said, what is your name?” I repeat, each word deliberate.
“My name is Jasper O’Neil,” he declares, his tone defensive, as though he’s somehow offended that I don’t already know who he is.
“The O’Neils? You’re their head Alpha now?” I ask, my voice tinged with a hint of amusement.
“What does that mean?” he protests, the indignation rising in his voice.
“Do you have any elders, boy?” I ask, a chuckle escaping me as I lean back in my chair.
“What does that have to do with any of thi…"
“Do you?” I cut him off, my voice suddenly firm, and my eyes locked onto his.
The intensity of my tone and the unyielding stare I give him seem to strike a chord.
The color drains from his face, and I watch as realization dawns on him.
He gulps, visibly shaken, his bravado crumbling in an instant.
The fear in his eyes is unmistakable, rendering him speechless.
Seeing that he has no response, I press on.
"Because if you had elders, they would have taught you about the legend of the White Wolf."
He glances at me, then around the table, his confusion deepening as he searches the faces of those around him for some hint of understanding.
I continue, my tone almost instructional, as if speaking to a child.
"You see, a white wolf is sent by the moon goddess whenever there is a lack of strong Alphas. It is the goddess’s way of restoring balance.
" I lean forward, and my voice drops to a menacing whisper.
“And judging by your existence, it is no wonder why she chose now to send the White Wolf.”
My final words are met with an eruption of laughter around the table, the sound echoing off the walls as Jasper O’Neil stands there, his face a mask of humiliation. His previous bravado melts away, replaced by a flush of embarrassment and shame that color his pale skin.
"Leave now, Jasper O’Neil," I command, my voice cold and dismissive. "And when you get home, seek out an elder and ask them about a man named Ryan Wills."
He stands there for a moment, frozen by the weight of his disgrace, before he turns and quickly exits the room. The laughter echoes in the room even after the door shuts behind him, marking his exit. But I don’t join in.
When that boy gets home, I can only hope someone has the sense to tell him exactly who the hell I am and everything I’ve done. Because I’m not a man you cross lightly. And there’s not a single person that has ever dared to that has come away unscathed.