Chapter 4 4

I glance around the table. Not one of these men will meet my eyes. My closest people. My equals in every sense that matters.

She did. Effortlessly.

My wolf doesn't snarl at the memory. It just watches her, curious. Almost pleased.

I push through the reports fast, dismiss both women, and get into the conversation that actually needs privacy.

Pack matters. Blood matters.

"The Idris," Silas says, and every part of me locks onto him.

"What about them?"

Old enemies. Older than any of us, chasing our shadow since the colony's founding   until I turned eighteen and they ripped the crown clean out of our hands.

"Nothing solid. But there's a new player bidding on Killian Insurance. Nobody's confirmed who, but the rumor is "

"Rowan." Kieran says the name like it tastes foul.

Something in me stands up and snarls. The room tints red at the edges   my wolf's private fantasy of exactly how Rowan's blood might look splashed across this table.

"Thought Killian was locked in," Ryker says.

"Senior's been stalling on signatures," Silas answers. "Guess that explains it."

I unclench my jaw enough to speak. "What's the counteroffer?"

"Unconfirmed. If I had to guess   twice what we put on the table."

"That's insane," Kieran snaps. "Overpaying by a couple billion just to prove a point."

"Idris money doesn't care about insane," Silas says. "This is Rowan getting off on messing with us. You know that."

"Why do we even want an insurance company," Kieran mutters.

"Diversification," Ryker says, patient as ever. "This deal puts us in every major sector at once."

"Or," Kieran grins, already reaching for a stress ball, "screw the old dinosaur   give me and Felix a weekend and we'll build something that makes every legacy insurer look ancient." He lobs it at Felix, who catches it without looking up. "Right, Felix?"

"Doable," Felix says, still reading.

"No." I cut through. "Killian was never about insurance access. It's optics."

"Old money next to new money." Ryker taps his fingers together. "Legacy credibility stacked on tech money. Proof we're more than crypto kids who got lucky."

"We were absolutely crypto kids who got lucky," Kieran points out.

"That's the origin story," I say. "Not the whole one. Killian proves that."

"It's a trophy," Ryker agrees. "Losing it to Idris paints us as weak."

He's not wrong. Any other deal, I'd shrug and move on. Idris blood in the water changes everything.

Because for wolves, dominance was never about trophies or galas.

It's survival. Full stop.

My own mother came from Idris blood. Her betrayal is the reason the crown sits on the wrong heads today. I don't intend to let that stand forever. I'm the alpha here. Reclaiming what's mine isn't ambition.

It's the only job that's ever mattered.

"We hold." My voice leaves no room for debate. "Sweeten it however we need   golden parachutes, equity in Lunar, whatever closes the gap."

"New proposal on your desk by noon," Silas says, already typing.

"My team's digging into what Idris actually offered," Ryker adds, thumb flying across his phone.

"Before the gala," I say. "Get the meeting scheduled. Now."

Kieran's out of his chair before I finish the sentence. He'll push back on plenty, but once I've drawn the line, he moves.

"Careful who you send," Ryker calls after him. "This needs finesse, not a sledgehammer." Translation: Kieran can't stand being in a room with humans longer than five minutes.

Kieran flashes a grin sharp enough to be a threat. "I can be charming."

"You genuinely cannot," Ryker says flatly. Felix and Sully choke down laughter.

Kieran flips him off on his way out, already barking orders at my assistants to lock down a sit-down with Killian's people.

I catch every syllable through the door. Shifter hearing doesn't respect walls.

"Of course. When?" Lyra, slightly winded.

"Yesterday," Kieran snaps.

I don't know what keeps me listening. What exactly I'm waiting to hear.

"Consider it done."

Her voice. Steady. Sure. Low.

Fascinating doesn't cover it.

I have to physically restrain the urge to walk out there and corner her with a list of demands that have nothing to do with scheduling.

And that's when it happens.

The air shifts   barely, just a breath moving wrong through the vents   and it hits me full force for the first time since she walked in.

Underneath the coffee. Underneath the cheap hotel soap and the nerves she's hiding so well.

That scent isn't human.

It never was.

My wolf goes utterly still.

Then what the hell is she?