Chapter 3: Boardroom and Broken Control

The speakers crackled into silence after Elena's bombshell, leaving nothing but the rasp of our breathing and the faint hum of the compound's ventilation. I stayed frozen astride Garrett, thighs bracketing his hips, his knot a thick insistent pressure against me through too many layers of fabric. My cock throbbed in time with my heartbeat, the bond screaming at me to finish what we'd started.

But her words hung in the air like silver dust. Proof. Lies. Decades of it. My wolf snarled inside my skull, torn between the alpha beneath me and the cousin who'd just yanked the rug out from under everything I'd believed.

Garrett's hands flexed on my hips, claws pricking through my ruined dress shirt. "Your cousin has terrible timing," he growled, that Nordic lilt thickening into something dangerous. His icy blue eyes had gone molten, pupils blown wide.

I shoved off him at last, legs shaky. The furs clung to my back like they didn't want to let go. "Yeah, well, she also has a habit of being right when it counts. What the hell did she mean, your family lied?"

He sat up slowly, sandy hair wrecked from my fingers, scar through his eyebrow standing out stark against flushed skin. For a second he looked almost human. Almost vulnerable. Then the alpha mask slammed back into place.

"Later," he said, voice like gravel. "Right now your wolf is riding you hard and my pack is one wrong move from rioting. You need to get back to your human life before someone decides to make an example of you."

I laughed, the sound brittle enough to shatter. "Back? Like this?" I gestured at myself—wrists still bearing faint silver welts, shirt half-unbuttoned, the unmistakable scent of him clinging to every inch of me. "My board will take one look and call security. Or an exorcist."

Garrett stood, towering over me in that way that made my knees want to buckle. He crowded into my space without touching, herding me toward the door. "I'll drive. Shadow you. No one touches what's mine."

The possessive word should have pissed me off. Instead heat pooled low in my belly. My wolf gave a satisfied rumble that I felt in my bones. I adjusted my imaginary cuffs, the old tic firing on empty wrists. Garrett's gaze tracked the motion, softening a fraction.

"Fine," I muttered. "But if you hump my leg in the elevator, I'm billing you for therapy."

His bark of laughter followed me into the hallway, surprising us both.

---

The drive down the mountain into Blackridge proper felt like descending into another world. Garrett's truck smelled like pine air freshener failing miserably to cover wolf musk. I kept my hands clenched in my lap, staring out at the luxury high-rises piercing the morning fog while my wolf paced restlessly under my skin.

Every bump in the road sent a fresh wave of mating heat through me. My suit—salvaged from Garrett's closet, too big in the shoulders—rubbed in all the wrong places. I could feel his eyes on me, heavy as a hand between my shoulder blades.

"Stop staring," I said without looking over. "It's creepy. Even for a kidnapping alpha."

"Not staring. Memorizing." His fingers drummed the steering wheel. "The way you smell when you're fighting it. Like expensive cologne and lightning. Makes me want to pull over and—"

"Don't finish that sentence." My voice cracked. The bond pulsed between us, a live wire of want and warning. I shifted in my seat, trying to ease the ache. It only made it worse.

Garrett's knuckles went white. "Council's been sniffing around since your cousin started making noise. One wrong step and this truce they love so much goes up in smoke."

I finally glanced at him. In the daylight he looked less like a monster, more like a man who'd inherited too many knives and too much responsibility. The scar through his eyebrow caught the sun, pale against tanned skin.

We pulled into the underground parking of Quintero Tower thirty minutes later. My building—my empire—loomed above us, glass and steel and everything I'd built to prove I wasn't my father's son. The wolf inside me recoiled at the sterile smell of concrete and exhaust.

Garrett killed the engine. "I'll wait in the lobby. Try not to look like you just got fucked against a wall."

"We didn't even get that far," I muttered, climbing out. My legs still felt unsteady. The welts on my wrists itched under my sleeves as I straightened my borrowed tie.

He followed anyway, a massive shadow in a black henley that did nothing to hide the muscle underneath. Security did a double-take but waved us through when I nodded. The elevator ride up to the executive floor was pure torture. Just the two of us in a metal box, the bond humming louder with every floor.

My assistant, Marcus, nearly dropped his tablet when I stepped onto the forty-second floor. "Mr. Quintero. We weren't expecting—your nine o'clock is already in the boardroom. And you look... different."

Different. That was one word for it. I could smell the change on myself—Garrett's scent layered over mine like a claim. My wolf preened even as my human brain wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

"Hold my calls," I said, adjusting my cuffs out of habit. The motion made Garrett's lips twitch behind me. "And get me the Apex files. Something's off with the server integration numbers."

Marcus's gaze flicked to Garrett, then back to me. He swallowed hard. "Yes, sir."

The boardroom smelled like fresh coffee and fear. Six executives in thousand-dollar suits looked up as I entered, their expressions shifting from irritation to confusion. I took my usual seat at the head of the table, hyper-aware of Garrett leaning against the wall like he belonged there.

"Gentlemen," I started, voice steadier than I felt. "Let's talk Q3 projections. I know the merger with Apex has everyone twitchy, but the synergies—"

The words tasted like ash. My wolf didn't give a shit about synergies. It wanted to vault the table, drag Garrett into the nearest dark corner, and present like some breeding bitch from an old pack legend. Heat crawled up my spine, sudden and vicious.

I gripped the edge of the polished oak, knuckles whitening. The numbers on the presentation slide blurred. Someone was saying something about market share but all I could hear was the thunder of my own pulse.

Garrett's scent spiked—concern, not lust. He shifted his weight, the movement small but I felt it like a touch. The bond tugged, offering strength I didn't want to need.

"Russell?" My CFO, Delgado, frowned at me. "You okay? You look like you haven't slept."

Understatement of the century. I forced a smile that felt like broken glass. "Late night reviewing the due diligence. Where were we on the algorithm integration?"

The meeting dragged on like a root canal. I fumbled a metaphor about hostile takeovers that landed flat, earning puzzled stares. My skin burned. Every time Garrett's gaze lingered too long, fresh slick threatened to soak through my borrowed slacks.

Halfway through, the lights flickered. Just a surge from the generator test, Marcus had assured us earlier. But darkness licked at the edges of my vision and suddenly I was thirteen again, locked in my father's basement for refusing to shift. The panic attack hit like a freight train.

My chest seized. Air wouldn't come. The boardroom spun, the familiar sterile smells turning sour in my nose. I shoved back from the table, chair legs screeching.

"Need a minute," I rasped, bolting for the executive bathroom before anyone could ask questions.

The door slammed behind me. I fumbled for the light switch but my fingers wouldn't work. The room plunged into shadow as the motion sensor failed to trigger. Total darkness. Just like the basement. Just like every punishment that taught me wolves were monsters.

I slid down the wall, knees to chest, trying to remember how breathing worked. My wolf howled in confusion, the bond flaring hot and frantic. Pain lanced through my temples.

The door opened. Light spilled in, then cut off again as it closed. Garrett's scent wrapped around me like a blanket I both craved and resented.

"Russell." His voice was softer than it had any right to be. He crouched in front of me, too big for the small space, knees bracketing mine. His hand hovered near my shoulder. "Breathe with me. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Like this."

I tried. Failed. The darkness pressed in, thick as the silver chains had been. "Can't. Too much like... before. When they made me take the pills. Said a Quintero who couldn't control his wolf was no better than a Drummond dog."

Garrett's growl rumbled low, protective. But he didn't pull me close like I half-expected. Instead he reached over and flicked the light on, bathing us in harsh fluorescents. The sudden brightness made me flinch, but the panic eased a fraction.

"Better?" He still didn't touch me. Just stayed there, close enough that his body heat bled into mine. His blue eyes searched my face, that scar pulling tight when he frowned.

I nodded jerkily. Sweat slicked my temples. The mating heat had banked somewhat under the adrenaline, but it lurked, waiting. My wolf pressed against my ribs like it wanted to crawl into his lap and stay there.

"Why are you being decent?" I managed. "This would be easier if you were just an asshole."

His laugh huffed out, surprised. "Believe me, plenty of my pack would agree with you right now." One big hand finally settled on my knee, thumb stroking the fabric of my slacks. The touch grounded me more than the lights had. "But you're not just the enemy anymore. The bond... it changes what I want."

I swallowed hard. His scent filled the small room—pine and musk and something warmer now, like concern had its own smell. My carefully balanced merger of selves was suddenly showing hostile takeover symptoms. Part of me wanted to run screaming back to my spreadsheets. Another part—the wolf—wanted to roll in that scent until it never washed off.

"Elena said your family lied about the feud," I whispered. The words felt dangerous in the bright sterile space.

Garrett's hand tightened on my knee. For a second his expression flickered—doubt? Anger? Then it smoothed into alpha certainty. "Then we'll burn that bridge when we cross it. Together. But right now you need to finish your meeting before your humans start asking questions you can't answer."

He helped me up, hands lingering at my waist longer than necessary. Our bodies brushed and the bond sang, a low thrum that settled behind my ribs. I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to bite him. Instead I straightened my tie with shaking fingers.

"No more dark rooms," I muttered.

"No more dark rooms," he agreed, voice rough. His fingers brushed my wrist where the silver welts had faded to pink lines. The tenderness there made my chest tighten in a way that had nothing to do with panic.

We stepped back into the hallway just as the elevator dinged. Elena stormed out like a hurricane in leather and combat boots, butterfly knife twirling between her fingers. Her black hair was pulled into a severe ponytail.

Her nostrils flared. She zeroed in on me, then Garrett, lips curling in disgust. "You smell like him. Like pack. Like you let him mark you already, cousin. What the fuck?"

I stepped between them on instinct. My wolf bristled at her tone even as relief hit me at seeing her alive and furious. "It's not that simple, Elena. The bond—"

"The bond is a trap." She twirled the knife faster, eyes never leaving Garrett. "And you've walked right into it. I have proof, Russ. Actual documents from before your father started the suppression meds. The Drummonds rewrote history."

Garrett went very still behind me. I felt the shift in him, the way his muscles coiled like he wanted to lunge. But he held back. For me. My wolf noticed, and something in me eased a fraction.

"Not here," I hissed at her. The parking garage cameras would catch everything. "My office. Now. Before my board decides I've lost my mind."

Elena sheathed the knife but her glare could have stripped paint. "Fine. But if he so much as looks at you wrong, I'll gut him and feed his liver to the Council dogs."

We made it to the elevator without bloodshed. The ride down was worse than the ride up—three wolves in a confined space, two of them related by blood and one by fate. Elena kept shooting Garrett looks that promised violence. He ignored her, focus pinned on me like I might vanish.

In the parking garage, away from prying eyes, Elena rounded on me. "You reek of him. Of arousal and almost-bonding. Tell me you didn't let him knot you in that fancy nest of his."

Heat flooded my face. "We didn't. It... got close. But Elena, the pain when we're apart—"

"Is nothing compared to what he'll do when he owns you completely." Her voice dropped, urgent now. She grabbed my arm, nails digging in. "The proof is in an old ledger. I hacked their archives. Their grandfather murdered to frame us, then spun the story to rally the packs against Quinteros."

Garrett's growl echoed off concrete pillars. "That's a fucking lie. My grandfather's mate was killed by your—"

"Enough." I stepped between them again, heart hammering. The conflicting stories warred in my head, mixing with the mating heat that still simmered under my skin. This wasn't a merger. It was mutually assured destruction.

A new scent cut through the garage—neutral, sharp, like ozone after a storm. We all turned as one.

The Council representative stepped from the shadows between parked cars. She was tall, elegant in a tailored gray suit, silver cufflinks glinting at her wrists. Her eyes—one gold, one brown—marked her as a rare dual-nature wolf, loyal to no pack but the ancient laws.

"Garrett Drummond. Russell Quintero." Her voice carried the weight of centuries. "The Council has been made aware of your situation. A fated bond between rival heirs threatens the truce. The packs are watching. Choose your path before the full moon brings consequences."

My stomach dropped. The full moon was six days away. Six days to decide if I wanted to lose my human life forever or reject the only thing that had ever made my wolf feel alive.

Garrett's hand found the small of my back, steadying me. The touch sent sparks racing up my spine despite everything. I leaned into it before I could stop myself.

The representative's mismatched eyes narrowed. "Blackridge has seen enough blood."

She melted back into the shadows as quickly as she'd appeared. Elena cursed creatively in three languages. Garrett's fingers pressed harder against my spine, possessive and strangely reassuring.

I looked up at him, searching those icy blue eyes for answers I knew he didn't have. The bond between us thrummed with possibility and terror. My wrists itched where the silver had burned. My empire waited upstairs, already fraying at the edges.

"We should get back," Garrett said quietly. His thumb traced a small circle on my back, the gesture so tender it made my carefully constructed control slip another notch. "Before my brother decides to do something stupid."

I nodded, but my feet felt rooted to the concrete. The parking garage smelled of oil and fear and the faint promise of rain. My wolf whined, wanting nothing more than to follow this alpha home and never look back.

But the man I'd spent twenty-eight years becoming still screamed that this was how empires fell. The seed of doubt Garrett had planted in that bathroom hadn't grown into certainty yet. It just made everything hurt more.

As we climbed back into Garrett's truck, the weight of the representative's warning settled over us like another set of chains. Garrett started the engine. His hand found mine across the console, callused fingers intertwining with mine in a grip that felt both trap and lifeline.

Neither of us spoke as we pulled out into Blackridge traffic. But the bond between us whispered promises and threats in equal measure, growing louder with every mile that brought us closer to the compound.