Chapter 13 - The Boardroom Execution
Seventy-two hours after the blizzard on the Olympic ridge, the remaining members of the Croft Industries executive board sat in emergency session on the fiftieth floor of Croft Tower.
The atmosphere was that of a funeral.
Rumors had flooded the financial sector: Kane Croft was dead on a mountain peak; Harper Hayes had perished in a blizzard; the Mercer family’s coup had collapsed into regional chaos.
At the head of the long marble table sat Thomas Vance, the senior-most council elder, his spectacles perched on his nose, reading a draft decree of corporate receivership.
"Given the absence of the Alpha King for more than seventy-two hours following an unconfirmed combat event," Vance recited dryly, "and in light of the vacancy of the Sovereign Consort seat, this board must initiate the liquidation of regional timber assets to satisfy institutional creditors—"
The heavy mahogany doors didn't open. They were blown off their hinges.
The twin slabs of iron-reinforced wood shattered inward, skittering across the polished floor in a hail of splinters.
Twelve heavily armed Croft Enforcers, clad in ceremonial dress uniform, strode into the room, their weapons held at low ready, securing the perimeter with machine-like precision.
Then walked in the King and Queen.
I entered first, wearing an immaculate white tailored suit with a silk emerald blouse underneath. My hands were healed, the heavy platinum ring on my left hand gleaming under the recessed lighting. My posture was regal, relaxed, radiating the cold, unassailable confidence of a woman who had dragged death back from the edge of the pit.
Beside me walked Kane Croft.
He didn't wear a suit. He wore a dark wool overcoat over an open-collared black shirt, displaying the faint, pale scars across his collarbone where the silver had been ripped from his flesh. He walked with a soundless, predatory grace that made every elder at the table instantly stand up, their chairs screeching backward against the floor.
His aura was no longer erratic. It was immense, oceanic, terrifyingly stable—a solid wall of sovereign Alpha power that forced two junior board members to drop to their knees before they could even think to resist.
Kane walked straight to the head of the table.
He didn't look at Thomas Vance. He simply rested his index finger against the edge of the receivership document. With a casual flick of his wrist, he ignited the corner of the paper with a sleek gold lighter, letting the ashes drift down onto the marble table.
"Sit down, Vance," Kane said softly.
Vance collapsed back into his seat, his hands trembling violently.
"I hear you were discussing liquidation," Kane murmured, leaning his palms flat against the marble, his golden eyes sweeping over the pale faces of the board. "Let's discuss it."
Gideon stepped forward, placing a stack of black leather folders before each board member.
"Over the last forty-eight hours," I announced, stepping to Kane's right, resting my hand casually on his forearm, "forensic accountants cleared by federal marshals have reviewed the private ledger accounts of every person sitting in this room."
Several elders visibly blanched.
"Six of you accepted kickbacks from Marcus Mercer's shell companies," I continued, my voice cutting through the suffocating silence like a razor. "Three of you authorized the purchase orders for the synthetic silver compounds manufactured on Cascade land. And two of you signed off on the security bypass that allowed Julian Mercer's strike team to access the Olympic ridge."
"Harper... Sovereign Consort," Vance stammered, sweating through his collar. "We were acting under duress! Marcus threatened our families—"
"You acted for profit," Kane cut in, his voice dropping into that subterranean, lethal growl that signaled an execution. "You bet against your King. You bet that a poisoned wolf would never walk off that mountain."
Kane stood upright, his presence expanding until the thick glass panes overlooking Seattle rattled in their frames.
"Under the Charter of 1884," Kane declared, "your seats on this board are terminated. Your shares in Croft Industries are seized under the Treason Act and transferred in full to the Cascade Restoration Fund. You will surrender your executive credentials to Gideon Locke within ten minutes, or my Enforcers will throw you from this roof."
No one argued. No one shouted.
Twelve terrified men and women scrambled to unclip their security badges, tossing them onto the marble table like burning coals, before fleeing out the shattered doorway under the cold, watchful eyes of the Black Guard.
When the room emptied, leaving only Gideon standing guard at the door, Kane turned to face me.
The brutal, terrifying mask of the Alpha King dissolved, replaced by an expression so raw, so filled with quiet devotion, it took my breath away.
"You're very good at this, Harper," he whispered, stepping closer, his hands resting gently on my hips.
"I had five years of practice handling thieves," I said, a soft smile touching my lips as I looked up into his clear, golden eyes. "Though none of them looked quite as good in a coat as you do."
May you like
Kane chuckled, a low, rich sound that rumbled against my chest as he pulled me tight against his body.
"The board is dead," he murmured, his lips brushing against my forehead. "Now, my Queen... let's go rebuild your home."
