CH 10 - Alaric

ALARIC POV The coffee had gone cold. I noticed only because I could feel my very own wolf, Drake, staring at the mug like it had personally offended him. Let’s just say he wasn’t a fan of cold coffe, iced coffee, coffee icecream and so on. Coffee should only be served hot and without sugar, or goddess forgive us, creamer. That was it. I’ve been blessed with a wolf work a coffee kink. I leaned back in my chair, fingers steepled, eyes fixed on the screen in front of me. The news feed refreshed itself again, and there she was. The algorithm had learned me too well. Every refresh brought her back—red hair, green eyes, a face I had trained myself not to search for and had failed at spectacularly. Aria Steele. Before she became McGinley. Before she disappeared behind a marriage that should have protected her. Puberty was a convenient excuse. The truth was worse: I had never stopped noticing her. JASPER McGINLEY SPOTTED WITH ANOTHER WOMAN MOON NUTRITION CEO FACES BACKLASH POWER COUPLE NO MORE? Big fat catch clicking titles everywhere. Humans worked fast. Faster than councils. Faster than packs. Faster than anyone who thought they could bury a scandal under etiquette and silence. Good. Let them tear him apart. I scrolled, jaw tight, reading comments that were already turning vicious. *Didn’t he just launch a “family-oriented” product?* *Isn’t his wife the one behind the formula?* *Wow. Men really will ruin everything.* Drake growled softly. ‘He didn’t deserve her’ he said. ‘No one deserves Kara’ ‘I know buddy, I know. And I’m going to hit him where it will hurt him more. His goddamn pokets’ I’d already called him. Jasper, I mean. The audacity of that call still sat wrong in my chest. I hadn’t planned to speak. I’d planned to send lawyers. Emails. Termination notices wrapped in legal courtesy. But when I saw Aria’s face next to his on a gossip site—her replaced like a misprinted photo—I’d picked up the phone without thinking. He’d answered quickly, did not even waited two rings. And he even had the audacity of calling me by my first name. Cocky. Dumb. Soon to be dead under a pile of bills. I’d told him, calmly, that Greenwood Industries was pulling out. And goddess, that felt so good, hearing his breath catch, visualizing sweat covering his forehead, the subtle tremble of his left hand each time he felt threatened. So I smashed my knife deeper. Spilled out one truth after the other, calmly. Selling our shares. Leaving the board. Ending every partnership effective immediately. There had been a pause. Then outrage. “You can’t do that,” Jasper had skrietched. “This is a misunderstanding. Aria is feeding false information to the media—” I’d nearly broken the phone. The audacity of this man. I remembered gripping my desk so hard Drake’s claws scraped through the wood beneath my hands, long black marks gouged into polished oak. “That woman,” I said, every word measured, “has spent her entire adult life minimizing herself to make you comfortable.” Silence. “If you think she needs to fabricate a narrative to ruin you,” I continued, “you’re giving yourself far too much credit.”” He’d tried again. Appealed to reason. To numbers. To reputation. Greenwood couldn’t afford to be associated with his behavior. Not now. Not ever. I’d ended the call before he could finish begging. Drake had laughed then. A harsh, pleased sound. ‘That one’s going to regret breathing,’ he’d said. ‘Yes,’ I’d answered. ‘But not yet.’ A journalist had called ten minutes later. Portland number. Female voice. Confident. Sharp. She’d wanted an exclusive. My statement. Greenwood’s position. “There’s a press conference scheduled for tomorrow morning,” she’d added, almost casually. “What press conference?” I’d asked. A pause. Then, softer. Almost conspiratorial. “Aria McGinley’s attorney has called it. Downtown Portland. One of the hotels near the river.” I hadn’t said anything after that. Hadn’t needed to. After the call ended, I’d stood there for a long time, staring at nothing, already arranging my schedule in my head. Already thinking about routes. Timing. Coincidences. Drake had watched me. ‘ we don’t need an excuse,’ he’d said finally. ‘We are alphas . And she’s— important’ ‘That’s the understatement of the year’ I opened the bottom drawer of my desk. The one I’d never labeled. Photographs stared back at me. Old ones. Some grainy. Some stolen. Some taken with a precision that bordered on obsession. Some people would have called it stalking. They wouldn’t have been entirely wrong. But obsession implies indulgence. This had always been restraint. Aria at sixteen, laughing at something Caelin had said. Aria at twenty-one, head bent over a book at Portland University. Aria on her wedding day—she was so damn beautiful. I’d imagined… Nothing. I’d imagined nothing. Drake snorted. ‘She’s not his little sister anymore’ ‘No,’ I said. ‘Definetly not. But still...’ I still hadn’t found my mate, and being mateless and twentyseven was getting in my head. I’d thought more than once that a chosen mate would be okay too, both for me and the pack. But I couldn’t shake my head and forget Aria Steele. Steele. Not McGinley. With her red air and green eyes, funny, Smart and so goddamn perfect. I closed the drawer. Picked up my phone. Typed the message twice before sending it. - If you ever need me, I’m only a phone call away. —Alaric - The moment it sent, regret hit. Sharp. Immediate. I shouldn’t have. I shouldn’t push. Shouldn’t interfere. Aria had always hated being cornered. Always needed space to choose. Drake raised a brow. I set the phone down and forced myself to breathe. Five seconds passed. Ten. Then the screen lit up. Her name. My chest tightened so hard it hurt. I answered immediately. “Aria?” Silence. I had been waiting for Aria’s voice. What I got instead shattered something deeper. A child’s voice. Small. Shaking. Broken. “Please—please we need help,” the girl sobbed. “Daddy is going to kill our mommy.” The world went white. Not bright—empty. Like someone had yanked the air out of the room and left only pressure behind. My fingers tightened around the phone without me realizing it. The edge of the desk bit into my thigh as I leaned into it, grounding myself by instinct alone. Somewhere in the distance, something shattered. I wasn’t sure if it was glass or just the careful order of my life coming apart. Drake didn’t growl. Didn’t snarl. He went utterly still—every muscle locked, every instinct coiled so tight it hurt. That was worse. ‘What did she say?’ he asked. His voice wasn’t loud. It wasn’t angry. It was the kind of calm that comes right before violence stops asking for permission. I didn’t answer him. Because if I did—if I put the words into sound—then this would become real. And once it was real, there would be no pulling him back. No, pulling ME back. I took in a harsh breath. “Sweetheart,” I said into the phone, voice steady by sheer force of will. “Who is this?” “Ella,” she cried. “Please—he’s hurting her—” My chair slammed backward as I stood. Drake was already pushing forward, rage flooding my veins like fire. “Where are you?” I demanded. There was chaos on the line. Screaming. A man shouting. Then Aria’s voice—strained, breathless. “I’m not backing down from this fight Jasper. They are my pups-“ That was all it took. Drake surged up hard enough to knock the breath from my lungs. Not in a roar. Not in a loss of control. Just a sudden, violent presence, like a blade sliding into my spine and locking there. I stood so fast the chair toppled backward, crashing against the floor. Two hours by car. Even running full out, tearing through territory in wolf form, it would take too long. Too many things could happen in two hours. Too many ways this could end wrong. Elias. I pushed the mindlink open without slowing down, already crossing the room. Roof. Now, I sent, sharp and clipped. Get the helicopter up. I want blades spinning in three minutes. No reply beyond the brief pulse of acknowledgment. Elias knew better than to ask questions when my tone sounded like this. My keys were in my hand before I realized I’d grabbed them. I barely felt my fingers close around the phone. “Hold on,” I said into it, forcing my voice steady. “I’m coming.”