Chapter 5 - The Face of the Enemy
Marcus Vance looked immaculate in a tailored charcoal suit, his silver hair neatly combed, standing in the grand foyer surrounded by a dozen armed mercenaries. On the monitor behind him, bound and gagged on a velvet chair, sat Richard Hayes—sweating profusely, looking every bit the pathetic, ruined gambler he truly was.
“Alpha Croft,” Marcus’s voice echoed through the master suite’s audio system, dripping with oily amusement. “I trust our little nocturnal visit isn't disturbing your rest.”
Kane stepped in front of the console, his massive frame shielding Harper from the camera’s view. His voice was a lethal, quiet whisper. “You’re trespassing on sovereign Alpha territory, Vance. That’s an act of war.”
“War?” Marcus chuckled, adjusting his gold-rimmed cufflinks. “My dear boy, this is a foreclosure. Your condition is public record now. The high tribunal has already granted me temporary receivership over Croft Industries and all affiliated territorial assets, including the Cascade Pack.”
Marcus stepped aside, allowing the camera to pan toward Richard Hayes. Richard whimpered behind his gag, his eyes wide with absolute terror.
“And as for your little guest,” Marcus continued, his smile turning predatory. “Miss Harper Hayes. According to the debt settlement terms, if she fails to complete her candidate trial before sunrise—or if she is found culpable in an internal security breach—the entire contract is nullified, your assets are seized, and her father’s pack is executed for treason.”
Harper pushed past Kane, stepping directly into the camera’s field of view. Her face was a mask of cold, unyielding fury.
“You set my father up,” Harper said clearly, her voice echoing in the grand foyer downstairs. “You bought his debts through shell companies, engineered the missing three million, and forced him to send me here as a sacrificial lamb.”
Marcus raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise. “My dear Harper, your father is simply a very poor businessman. But don't worry—once the tribunal takes over, you won't have to worry about saving the Cascade Pack anymore. They won't exist.”
The screen suddenly split, displaying a live feed from the subterranean holding cells where Gideon Locke was still pinned down by mercenary fire.
“You have ten minutes to walk out into the courtyard and surrender your signet ring, Kane,” Marcus demanded, his voice hardening into steel. “Refuse, and we burn this entire mountain to the ground.”
The transmission cut to black.
Silence descended upon the master suite. The storm outside seemed to hold its breath.
Kane turned slowly to look at Harper. The golden light in his eyes was no longer chaotic or poisoned; it burned with the terrifying, absolute focus of an Alpha ready to slaughter an army for what belonged to him.
“You heard him,” Kane said softly, reaching for a heavy, tactical combat harness resting inside the armoire. “They want a war.”
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Harper reached down, unzipping her overnight bag not to pack her things, but to pull out a heavy, suppressed tactical pistol she had smuggled from her father’s private armory back in Washington—just in case diplomacy failed.
“Good thing,” Harper said, locking the slide with a sharp metallic snap, “because I’m done playing by their rules.”
