Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
VIDAR
“Mr. Blackwood, do you want us to delay the Ironwood transfer until things stabilize?”
“No. Execute.”
“Sir, Legal is asking if we should draft a statement regarding the rumors circulating among the—”
“No statement. Silence says all we need it to.”
“Finance flagged irregular movements in the Cayman accounts. Should we hold position?”
“No. Drain it.”
“Security wants confirmation on increased patrols at the southern border—”
“Approved.”
The questions came the moment I stepped out of the elevator at Blackwood Holdings. One after another. Hesitant. Deferred.
Waiting.
For me.
I moved through the glass-and-steel lobby without breaking stride, answering each one before the last word had fully left their mouths. These weren't difficult questions. Hell, they really weren’t questions at all. They were decisions. Obvious ones. That many should have executed themselves.
But this was the way of pack hierarchy. They weren't asking for guidance. They were asking for permission.
The Blackwood headquarters didn't just house a business; it housed a machine.
As I walked through the glass-and-steel lobby, the low, rhythmic hum of the building acted like a sedative on my lingering aggression.
Everything here was a study in order. Magnus was the face and the diplomat, managing the complex, blood-stained politics of the Packs.
Gunnar was the fist, the blunt instrument who removed obstacles with a terrifying, messy efficiency.
I was the engine. I ran the day-to-day operations with the precision of a master watchmaker, and I was glad my brothers left this domain to me.
If Gunnar ran the logistics, the balance sheets would be stained with dirt and blood.
If Magnus ran the meetings, he’d spend four hours asking questions just to hear the sound of his own voice.
And then there was my father. Fenrir was stepping back, a graceful retreat into the domestic peace he’d earned. He’d led a pack that thrived. He deserved to enjoy the fruits of a labor that had cost him decades of war. Under my hand, Blackwood Holdings wasn't just humming; it was singing.
I stopped at the head of the financial department and handed a drive to Miller, my lead analyst.
"The Ironwood offshore accounts," I said. "We flagged a secondary encryption sweep. It’s a laundering bypass. I want it drained and folded into our shell companies by noon."
Miller frowned, squinting at the encryption notes I’d scrawled. "Sir, if we pull the liquidity this fast, won't it trigger an automated alert with the Cayman auditors? Should we wait for the fiscal month to roll over?"
I stared at him. The question was technically sound, but it lacked the predator’s foresight. "If we wait, the Volki will track the scent. We hit it now while what's left of the Ironwoods are still mourning their Alpha."
As I walked away, a nagging thought scratched at the back of my mind. Addie wouldn't have asked that. She would have already seen the risk-to-reward ratio and had the transfer halfway completed before I even finished the sentence.
I headed toward my private office, my thoughts drifting to the penthouse.
She was there now; safe, surrounded by opulence, and isolated from the jagged edges of the world I’d dealt with last night—our wedding night.
I’d given her everything: the view, the comfort, the security.
She had nothing to do but exist and be mine.
Almost mine.
I wanted to pull up more about Sterling & Associates and learn more about this Nell Odhiambo. I reached my suite, feeling a rare moment of equilibrium, until my assistant looked up from her terminal.
"Sir, Adolphus Vane is in the lobby. He’s been waiting for twenty minutes."
The equilibrium shattered. I straightened my cuffs. "Let him wait another ten. And bring me a coffee. Black."
I let him wait fifteen minutes instead of ten. By the time he pushed through the doors of my office, the scent of Adolphus’s irritation trailed in his wake.
"Where is my son?" he demanded, skipping the formalities.
"I was under the impression your son was an adult, Mr. Vane. If your heir isn't answering your calls, perhaps it’s because he finally has something better to do than salvage your failing enterprise."
Adolphus’s face flushed a deep, mottled purple. "Don't play with me, pup. The streets are talking. You’ve upset the balance of the packs. I have the ear of the Lupettos and the Volki. Even the Lobos are making noise about the 'Blackwood Massacre.'"
I finally turned to look at him, leaning back against the mahogany of my desk. "If the other families have concerns, they can bring them to my family directly. Though I suspect they’re more interested in the Ironwood territories I just secured than they are in your whining."
"You think you’re untouchable," Adolphus hissed, taking a step toward me.
"You’re playing with faceless cards, Adolphus. You have nothing. I, on the other hand, have a very full hand. Imagine the optics if the other families found out exactly what the Vanes tried to do to the Blackwoods. What your son tried to do, not to mention the debt that is still owed."
“I’ll give you my daughter. Pack law has always recognized marriage as a settlement.”
"I married your daughter."
He blinks, surprised. "She did it? She actually married you?"
I didn't respond.
"Then this settles it."
"Your son came to us with a business proposal, as his inheritance is nothing but crumbling hotels in debt.
I took his sister as my wife to seal that deal.
When word gets out to the other packs, we'll look like the saviors of a dying lineage.
You?" I rounded my desk, giving him my back as I spoke.
To turn your back on a predatory wolf was the ultimate disrespect.
"I don't think anyone thinks of you any longer. "
When I turned back around, the color drained from his face. He looked every bit the neglectful father he was: a man who had used his children as bargaining chips until he realized he’d sold the very thing that kept him relevant.
"Keep my daughter. Give me back my son."
"You birthed them, Adolphus. That is the only reason you are walking out of this office instead of being carried out. You're a mediocre Alpha and a worse father. My brother is teaching your son how to be a man. I am keeping your daughter safe in a world you made too dangerous for her."
I pointed towards the door.
"Go home and pray I don’t decide that making my wife an orphan is more profitable than being your son-in-law."