Chapter 23 #2
“He was determined to see you reach your majority before… before the end. He pushed himself far beyond what the physicians recommended.” Tomas paused, his throat working. “Marina knew, of course. She had access to his medical records through her position on the board. And she used that knowledge.”
His beast stirred at the mention of Marina’s name. The female who had tried to kill his mate. Who had orchestrated the destruction of Ember’s ship and would have left her to die in the cold emptiness of space.
“How?” she asked quietly.
“Subtly, at first. She positioned herself as your father’s most trusted advisor, handling matters he was too ill to manage personally.
She cultivated relationships with key board members, promising favors and making strategic investments in their pet projects.
By the time your father died, she had built a network of influence that rivaled his own. ”
“And in the year since?”
“Her influence has only grown.” Tomas’s hands tightened on the arms of his chair.
“She hasn’t done anything overtly illegal—she’s far too clever for that.
But she’s used her position to reshape the company in subtle ways.
Key personnel have been replaced with people loyal to her.
Security protocols have been adjusted to give her greater access.
Financial resources have been redirected towards projects that serve her interests.
I believe she was prepared to have you declared dead after your ship exploded, but the message you sent created enough doubt that she was unable to do so. ”
She was silent for a long moment, her eyes fixed on some middle distance. He could see her mind working, processing the information, fitting pieces together into a larger picture.
“The will,” she said finally. “My father’s will names me as his sole heir. Is there any challenge to that?”
“The will is incontestable.” Tomas shook his head. “Your father made certain of that. He had it reviewed by the most reputable legal minds in the sector, filed with multiple independent authorities. Marina cannot take the company from you through legal means.”
“But she can make it very difficult for me to actually lead it.”
“Yes.” The old man’s expression was grave. “There is a board meeting at noon tomorrow. Your aunt has called it specifically to address the ‘crisis’ of your disappearance and the company’s need for ‘stable leadership’ going forward.”
“Meaning she plans to have the board vote to limit my authority.”
“Almost certainly. She has enough supporters to push through measures that would effectively reduce you to a figurehead while she maintains operational control.”
He moved from his position by the window, drawn by the distress he could sense radiating from her despite her calm exterior. He didn’t sit beside her—that felt wrong somehow, too casual for the gravity of the moment—but he positioned himself close enough that she could reach him if she needed to.
Her eyes flickered to him briefly, and some of the tension in her shoulders eased.
“I need to prepare for that meeting,” she said. “But first, there’s something else we need to address.” She turned to look at him directly. “Security.”
He nodded, grateful to be discussing something concrete—something he could actually affect.
“Your security is inadequate. The perimeter at the landing field, the convoy arrangements, the coverage in the underground levels—all of it has significant vulnerabilities. Anyone with proper training could exploit them.”
“I suspected as much.” She rose from the sofa and crossed to a small writing desk near the windows.
She opened a drawer and withdrew a small object—a seal of dark metal engraved with the Duvain crest. “This was my father’s personal authority seal.
It grants unrestricted access to all company facilities and the power to issue binding orders in my name. ”
She held it out to him.
“I want you to take over security operations. Effective immediately. Do whatever you think is necessary to protect this household and this company.”
He stared at the seal in her outstretched hand. It was a small thing, easily concealed in his palm, but he understood its significance. She was giving him power—real power, the kind that could reshape the landscape of her world if he chose to use it.
She was trusting him completely.
“Are you certain?” he asked, his voice rough.
“I’ve never been more certain of anything.” Her grey eyes met his without hesitation. “You saved my life. You protected me when I had no one else. And you know what we’re facing better than anyone. I trust you with my safety, Rykan. I trust you with everything.”
He took the seal. The metal was warm from her hand, smooth against his palm. He closed his fingers around it, feeling the weight of responsibility settle onto his shoulders like a familiar cloak.
“I’ll need to dismiss the current security chief,” he said. “And probably several of his key personnel.”
“Do what you need to do.”
He looked at Tomas. “Will you come with me?”
The old man’s eyebrows rose slightly, but he nodded and pushed himself to his feet. “Of course. I will also have your biometric information added to the security access.”
He turned back to Ember. She stood silhouetted against the window, the fading afternoon light gilding her pale hair. She looked tired but determined—a warrior preparing for battle, even if her weapons were words and contracts rather than claws and fangs.
His beast wanted to stay. Wanted to curl around her and guard her from every threat, visible and invisible.
But he could protect her better by ensuring her enemies couldn’t reach her in the first place.
“I’ll return soon,” he said.
“I know.” She smiled at him—a small smile, but genuine. “Be careful.”
He left her there in the fading light, Tomas falling into step beside him as they moved through the penthouse towards the elevator.
They rode down in silence for several floors before the old man spoke.
“You care for her.”
It wasn’t a question. He saw no point in denying it.
“Yes.”
“More than care, I think.” Tomas’s voice was thoughtful, weighing. “I’ve served the Duvain family for forty years. I watched Miss Ember grow from a sickly infant into the woman she is today. I held her when she cried at her father’s funeral. I have… certain feelings about her welfare.”
“I would expect nothing less.”
“Then you’ll understand when I say this.” The old man turned to face him fully, his weathered features hardening with unexpected steel. “If you hurt her—if you break her heart or betray her trust—I will find a way to make you regret it. I may be old, but I am not without resources.”
He met his gaze evenly. “I would never hurt her.”
“Many men have said similar things.”
“I am not a man.” He let a hint of his beast rise to the surface, feeling his eyes shift slightly, knowing Tomas could see the change. “I am Vultor. When we claim a mate, it is for life. She is mine, and I am hers. There is no force in this universe that could make me betray her.”
Tomas studied him for a long moment. Then, slowly, something shifted in his expression—the hardness softening into something that might have been approval.
“I believe you,” he said quietly. “Gods help me, but I do.” He paused, then added: “The current head of security is a man named Vartel. He’s been with the company for three years, appointed by Marina herself after your mate’s father became too ill to oversee personnel matters. He is… wholly her creature.”
“Understood.”
“He will not go quietly.”
“He will go.” His voice brooked no argument. “Quietly or otherwise.”
The elevator opened onto a floor dominated by security operations—banks of monitors displaying feeds from cameras throughout the building, workstations manned by personnel in Duvain uniforms, a glass-walled office at the far end where a broad-shouldered man sat behind a cluttered desk.
Vartel looked up as they approached, his expression shifting from annoyance to wariness as he registered Rykan’s presence.
He was larger than the guards Rykan had encountered so far, with the thick neck and heavy shoulders of someone who’d spent years building muscle.
His eyes were small and hard, set deep in a face that had seen its share of violence.
“Who the hell are you?” Vartel rose from his chair, one hand drifting towards the weapon at his hip.
He didn’t slow his approach. “I’m the new head of security. You’re dismissed.”
“Like hell I am.” Vartel’s hand closed around his weapon, though he didn’t draw it. “I don’t know what game you’re playing, but I take orders from Marina Duvain, not some—”
He moved.
One moment he was three paces from Vartel’s desk; the next, he had the man’s weapon hand locked in an iron grip, the bones grinding together under pressure that was carefully calculated to cause the maximum pain without permanent damage. Vartel gasped, his face going white.
“You take orders from Ember Duvain now.” He kept his voice low, almost conversational. “She is the head of this family and this company. I am her designated security chief, with full authority to hire, fire, and execute anyone who threatens her safety.”
He let a bit more of his beast show—his fangs lengthening, his eyes blazing gold, and the rumble of a growl building in his chest.
“I have decided that you are a threat. This is your one opportunity to leave peacefully. Take it, or I will remove you in pieces.”
Vartel’s small eyes were wide now, showing white around the edges. His breath came in short, sharp gasps. The smell of his fear was thick in the air—sour and pungent, deeply satisfying to his predator instincts.
“All right.” The word came out strangled. “All right, I’m going.”
He held him a moment longer, letting the message sink in, then released his grip and stepped back. Vartel stumbled, cradling his injured hand against his chest.
“Your personal effects will be forwarded to whatever address you provide.” His voice was flat, devoid of inflection. “You have five minutes to leave the building. If I see you in any Duvain facility again, I will assume you intend harm to my employer and act accordingly.”
Vartel fled.
He watched him go, then turned to survey the security operations floor. The personnel at their workstations were staring at him with varying expressions of shock, fear, and—in a few cases—something that looked like relief.
Tomas moved to stand beside him, his weathered face thoughtful. “That was… efficiently done.”
“He was corrupt and incompetent. The company is better without him.”
“I don’t disagree.” The old man paused. “What will you do now?”
He looked out over the monitors, at the dozens of camera feeds showing corridors and offices and public spaces throughout the Duvain tower.
Somewhere in this building, Marina was plotting her next move.
Somewhere, there were other people loyal to her—people who might try to harm Ember if given the opportunity.
He couldn’t afford to miss any of them.
“Now,” he said, “I make certain no one else in this building is a threat to her. And then I go back to her side, where I belong.”
He turned to address the stunned security personnel, his voice carrying across the floor with the authority of an alpha addressing his pack.
“My name is Rykan. I am Miss Duvain’s new head of security. You will follow my orders without question or hesitation. Anyone who has a problem with that arrangement is welcome to leave now. Anyone who stays will be expected to earn my trust through competence and loyalty.”
No one moved.
“Good.” He allowed himself a small, predatory smile. “Then let’s get to work.”