I watched the silver luxury sedan pull away, the tinted window gliding up to hide Ethan's unreadable amber eyes. Between my fingers, I gripped the packet of tissues he'd shoved toward me-his palm's lingering heat bled through the plastic, a stark contrast to the biting Valerian wind.
"Thanks," I muttered to the glass, but the car was already a streak of chrome against the snow.
By ten o'clock, I was standing in the lobby of Parker Athletics. The air was thick with the scent of old floor wax and anxious pheromones. It had been a month since the last payroll cleared, but this was a legacy pack franchise. Even with the vultures circling on social media, the staff stayed hunched over their desks, refusing to let the flame go out until the final buzzer.
If I hadn't seen the red ink on my father's private ledgers, I'd have believed the calm was real.
I followed our VP, Brandon Hayes, into the wood-paneled war room. Attorney Lucas Grant was already there, his briefcase snapped open like a jaw.
"I'm truly sorry for your loss, Collins," Lucas said, his voice dropping into that professional 'funeral' register. "Your father left specific instructions regarding his final testament. We should begin."
I sat, my spine rigid. Lucas slid a heavy vellum folder across the table.
"Andrew held the deeds to six training facilities located across the northern peaks... here are the titles. He also held three underground parking complexes near the stadium, eight retail outlets for team gear, and a fleet of twelve transport vehicles."
I stared at the list, a cold knot forming in my gut. I'd lived like a scholarship student while my father was sitting on a mountain of assets. Why hadn't he liquidated a single locker room to pay for the specialized healers he needed?
"Beyond the physical property," Lucas continued, his gaze drifting to the window, "he left the franchise to you. But Parker Athletics is currently bleeding out."
I looked at Brandon. "How deep is the wound?"
Brandon adjusted his glasses, his scent turning sour with stress. "The current deficit is a hundred and twenty-five million credits. If you claim the inheritance, you claim the debt. You'd have to sell every car, shop, and training center just to keep the lights on for another month."
I felt the air leave my lungs. A hundred and twenty-five million. Even if I sold my soul, I couldn't cover that.
"You can walk away, Collins. Let the pack reclaim it," Brandon said, his face a mask of gloom. "But this was Andrew's life's work. His wolf was built into these walls. Can you really watch the Silvercrest Wolves be dissolved into history?"
"Where are Denise and Savannah?" I asked, my voice trembling.
"Don't even look for your stepmother," Brandon spat. "She and her brother are half the reason we're in this hole. He's been skimming from the merchandise revenue for seasons. They caught a flight out of Valeria this morning. They aren't coming back until the collectors are gone."
I put my head in my hands. "I don't want to lose the legacy, but I'm an omega student with zero credit. Where do I find that kind of capital?"
"We hunt for it," Brandon insisted. "Our R&D team just finished the prototype for a new high-impact kinetic brace. If we get a bridge loan to launch it, we can flip the deficit. We just need a backer."
"Who would bet on a sinking ship?" I asked.
"The banks," Brandon replied. "And if they say no, we find a private shark. We have to try, Collins. If we fail, we fail. But don't you want to take one last shot?"
On the top floor of Silvercrest Holdings, the sun hit the floor-to-ceiling glass like a spotlight. Ethan Carter sat with his back to the light, his silhouette looking like a mountain range carved from granite.
He was scanning a dossier provided by Tyler Dawson.
"Mr. Carter, Parker Athletics is underwater by a hundred and twenty-five million," Tyler explained. "Andrew's widow and youngest daughter fled the kingdom this morning. It's a safe bet that Collins will surrender the keys. A hundred and twenty-five million is an impossible mountain for a boy like him."
Ethan's fingers tapped a rhythmic, predatory beat on the desk. He'd asked for the update, and Tyler knew better than to question why the Alpha was tracking a "discarded" mate's business.
"Let's put some skin in the game, Tyler."
Isabella Reed, the CFO, stirred her tea, her eyes gleaming with sharp amusement. "I bet Collins Parker shows up at Ethan's door before sundown to beg for the credits. He's the 'Consort,' after all. He's got the best leverage in the city."
Tyler shook his head. "The kid has too much pride. He won't do it."
Isabella chuckled. "You didn't see him last night. He shattered a bottle of '47 vintage in front of the whole pack and threatened to gut Chelsea. He might look like a stray, but he's got more bite than any Alpha in this room."
"Fine," Tyler sighed. "What's the wager?"
"If I win, you're on coffee duty for a month. If you win, I'll cover the whole department's caffeine tab."
"Deal."
By late afternoon, I'd been rejected by every major bank in the capital.
It wasn't as easy as Brandon made it sound. Eight calls. Two banks were already suing us. The others wouldn't even let me past the receptionist once they heard the name 'Parker.'
"Collins, look at this," Brandon said, shoving a thick technical manual into my hands. "This brace is a game-changer for injured skaters. I managed to land a dinner meeting with the directors of River City Bank and Silver Linings. Go home, put on something that screams 'Authority,' and sell them the dream."
"Why the dress-up?" I asked, exhausted. "Can't I just go as I am?"
"You look like you've been at a wake," Brandon noted gently. "In this world, if you don't look like a winner, they'll treat you like prey. Put some color in your face, Collins. Look like an Alpha's mate, even if you aren't feeling like one."
"I'll read the specs first," I said, grabbing the file.
At six in the evening, Tyler walked back into Ethan's office.
"Looks like we both lost the bet, Isabella," Tyler said, looking toward the CFO. "Collins isn't giving up, but he isn't coming here either. He's booked a private room at The Den with the managers of River City and Silver Linings."
Isabella's smile dropped. "Those two old wolves? They're notorious for 'mentoring' young omegas in exchange for signatures. He's walking into a den of vipers! Why the hell wouldn't he just ask Ethan? He's his husband, for Moon's sake. Does he think Ethan is more dangerous than those two sleazebags?"
Tyler glanced at Ethan.
The Alpha's face was terrifyingly dark. The air in the room suddenly felt heavy, like the pressure before a blizzard.
Collins was still Ethan's mate in the eyes of the pack. If he went to "negotiate" with men like that, it wasn't just a business move-it was a public slap to Ethan's dominance. If the word got out that Ethan Carter couldn't even provide for his own house, his rivals would pounce.
"Should I intercept him, Mr. Carter?" Tyler asked cautiously.
Ethan's fists clenched until his knuckles were white as ice. "Don't touch him," he growled, his voice a low, dangerous rasp.
He wanted to see just how far I'd go. He wanted to see if I was really reckless enough to trade my dignity for a dying franchise.
Isabella coughed, trying to break the tension. "Want to hit the lounge with us, Ethan? My treat."
Ethan's expression turned malicious. He slammed his laptop shut and pivoted his chair toward the door.
"Get the car," he ordered his guard, ignoring them both.
