Chapter 38: Chapter 38 When the Alpha King Arrives
Damian’s POV
The dial tone mocked me.
I stared at my phone, listening to the empty buzz where Aria’s voice had been seconds ago.
She’d hung up on me.
Actually hung up.
My wolf stirred restlessly beneath my skin, a low growl building in my chest.
The animal didn’t understand rejection—especially not from our mate.
It wanted to track her down, pin her against the nearest wall, and make her explain exactly why she’d been avoiding us for five days straight.
I forced the instinct down, my jaw clenching hard enough to ache.
This wasn’t like Aria. She’d been distant since our night together, yes, but she’d never outright refused to see me. Never brushed me off like I was some low-priority item on her to-do list.
What the hell was going on?
I’d raced back from the border conflict the moment it was resolved, pushing my team harder than necessary because I needed to see her.
But now she couldn’t even spare an hour for lunch.
My fingers drummed against the desk, the only outward sign of my agitation.
Around me, my office was silent except for the faint hum of the city below. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the skyline, but I wasn’t seeing it.
All I could see was the memory of Aria in my arms. The way she’d looked at me like I was the only thing in her world. The soft, broken sounds she’d made when I—
Stop.
I shoved the thought away before my wolf could latch onto it and make this situation even more impossible.
The door opened without a knock. Only one person in my entire organization would dare.
"Rick," I said flatly, not turning from the window. "Go investigate V&A Group’s latest developments."
My Beta closed the door behind him, approaching with the careful precision of someone who understood my current volatility.
Smart man.
"Regarding V&A Group," he began cautiously, "the company appears stable. No significant disruptions. But I’ve been tracking Aria Smith’s movements as instructed, and—"
I turned sharply. "And?"
He cleared his throat. "She’s been busy. Apparently there’s some internal power struggle happening. She’s trying to secure funding for a new venture. Meetings with investors, late nights at the office. That sort of thing."
Investors.
The word clicked something into place.
"So when she said she was busy tonight," I said slowly, "she meant she has a meeting."
"With an investment firm, yes." Rick pulled out his tablet, scrolling through whatever intelligence he’d gathered.
"Interestingly enough, the firm she’s meeting with has just been incorporated into the Crown Financial Authority. The integration hasn’t been announced publicly yet."
Of course it was one of mine.
A cold, dark satisfaction curled through me. My wolf perked up, suddenly very interested.
If Aria needed an investor, and that investor happened to be under my control...
"Where’s the meeting?" I asked.
Rick told me.I nodded once, my decision made. "Clear my schedule for tonight. Cancel the Foundation Gala and the pack elders’ dinner. Send my regrets."
"Sir, the elders specifically requested—"
"I don’t care." My voice came out harder than I intended, but I didn’t soften it. "Reschedule. Tonight I have other priorities."
"Yes, Your Majesty. Any other instructions?"
"Find out everything about this investment deal," I ordered. "What she needs, what she’s offering, who else is in the room. I want a full brief before I walk in."
Rick nodded and turned to leave, but paused at the door.
"Understood, Your Majesty. But I must remind you—the full moon is next week. You need to bring our future Luna Queen home."
"I will."
---
Aria’s POV
The night was thick as ink outside the Warren Hotel tower.
I was hunched over the toilet, retching violently. My stomach twisted, rejecting every drop of alcohol those bastards had forced down my throat.
God, I hated this.
"Aria, that’s enough..." Jennifer’s worried voice cut through the sound of running water. "Those men are deliberately messing with you."
She was right. Those investors had spent two hours suggesting I drink as much as I wanted funding—completely ignoring my actual proposal.
I was starting to suspect Nathan had sent them to sabotage me.
"I’m fine," I managed, straightening up. My face was flushed in the mirror, my eyes unfocused. But I forced myself to stand tall. "I can handle another round."
I’d worn Damian’s bracelet tonight—the platinum band with its wolf’s head design felt heavy on my wrist. A talisman, maybe.
Jennifer looked at me with worry and admiration.
She understood. I was a woman in a male-dominated world, building something from nothing. Without powerful backing, I’d always be a target.
Before we reached the private dining room, I heard them. Loud, obnoxious laughter.
"Her proposal’s decent, but the project? Waste of money."
"I’d invest... if she’d let me have a taste first."
"That face, that body—goddamn smokeshow."
I stopped. Jennifer’s hand clenched into a fist, ready to storm in.
I grabbed her wrist. Yeah, I was furious. But I’d let them pour alcohol down my throat for two hours. They weren’t leaving without signing.
"Recording?" I asked quietly.
Jennifer nodded, pulling out the device. We always brought it to meetings.
Every disgusting word had been captured.
"Wait here," I told her, then pushed inside and locked the door.
The men looked startled.
I picked up the contract and made my way—unsteadily—to the head seat.
"Mr. Sterling, Mr. Brown, Mr. Turner," I said professionally. "We’ve talked for two hours. I’ve explained everything. Maxwell Group has issued a preliminary letter of intent. Once funding is secured, we launch Phase One next month."
I set the contract down with a thud.
"Do any of you have specific thoughts on the project itself?"
Sterling set down his glass and burped. His eyes traveled over me in a way that made my skin crawl.
"Thoughts? Sure, sweetheart. Drink another round with us, we might sign tonight."
Brown jumped in. "Three more glasses, we’ll add two hundred thousand. How’s that?"
I didn’t get angry. I smiled.
"Gentlemen, you’re experienced investors. You know investment decisions are based on project potential, not drinking capacity. I came with a genuine offer, not to play games."
I paused.
"Also, your teams mentioned you’re bidding for the Crescent Moon Pack contract. Interesting—I oversee that business."
Sterling stared, then burst out laughing.
"You? A girl like you?" He slapped the table. "If that’s true, I’ll eat every glass here."
Brown cackled. "The Crescent Moon Alpha doesn’t mess around. If you had that authority, you wouldn’t be here begging for pocket change."
Turner reached for my shoulder. I sidestepped.
"We’re doing you a favor," he sneered. "Don’t push your luck."
Something cold crystallized in my chest.
I held up my hand, letting light catch on Damian’s ring. The obsidian gleamed, the Blackwood crest unmistakable.
"Recognize this?"
Sterling squinted. His face went pale.
"That’s... the Blackwood—"
"It’s fake," Brown interrupted, though his voice wavered. "You expect us to believe the Alpha King gave you his signet? What, you his Luna Queen now?"
Turner was too drunk to read the room. He leaned closer, breath reeking.
"Nice try, honey. You’re just another groupie with knock-off jewelry."
His hand shot out, grabbing my wrist hard.
"Now stop wasting our—"
The door exploded inward.
Literally. One second locked, the next hanging off its hinges.
The temperature dropped twenty degrees.
Damian Blackwood filled the doorway.
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