Chapter 75 75
Xavier’s POV
It wasn't my first time at Crescent Ridge but every time I arrived, I'm blessed with its glorious architecture.
Crescent Ridge was a tower. Not just any tower, but a tower of glass embedded into a mountain. A modern on the outside, an ancient on the inside, surrounded by steel beams and marble floors. It was on neutral territory. No Pack could claim ownership. No Alpha could throne it. No border surrounded it. Father once told me it was an altar built pack laws older than most bloodlines and he was right.
The place was an altar where we worshiped, but it was also a place where enemies shook hands and pretended not to show their fangs.
I stepped out of the black SUV and adjusted the cuff of my suit as cameras clicked discreetly from the press line kept at a careful distance. The media loved it when Alphas gathered. Investors did too.
The last time I was here, I'd been humiliated by my peers who thought I was unfit to rule due to my debt. But now, it had all been cleared, I was much an equal as they are.
I flashed them a grin and waved lightly. Tonight, I was about to show these Alpha's who I truly was.
Inside the main conference hall, the Alpha's were already gathered. Each of them spared me a short glance while others didn't bother to hide their hatred and bred their teeth at me. I paid them no mind. I walked past them with a smirk. They hated that my fame had grown and my reputation repaired. They hated that I was now above them. Well, they can go to hell for all I cared.
I paddled to the circular obsidian table where digital panels for projections and voting were made available to each seat. Each seat had a pack insignia in brushed silver. Mine was already lit. I took it without hesitation.
Elder Alpha Helsinki who was to proceed with the meeting took his seat, a signal to the others to do the same.
When everyone was seated, I looked around the room. Only one seat was missing.
He wasn't here yet.
My eyes drifted ahead when the empty seat lit up.
The air shifted and thickened with tension : a pressure that was so heavy, so controlled, and dangerous predatory.
He was here. The king of the Northern Rogues.
Alpha Roman.
The legend. The ghost. The wolf who built an army out of exile and rogue and somehow made them disciplined enough to rival established packs. The Alpha who seldom attended meetings and spoke even less.
They said he didn’t smile, didn’t forgive, and hadn’t been the same since his younger brother died years ago.
The whispered conversations stopped immediately he entered.
Even with no entourage and no flashy theatrics, Roman dominated the very room. To an ordinary eye, he was a tall figure in a dark tailored coat, expression solid as stone but to every Alpha here, he was a god himself.
His hair was a bit long, and fell just above his shoulder. His features were striking, his jaw sharper, and his emotionless eyes so cold it'd cause winter. Those wintry orbs scanned the room briefly then they landed on me. I recognized the look in his eyes. It was recognition but not just that. It was something else — hatred. Pure, undiluted, and controlled hatred.
I see. He still hadn't forgotten.
I leaned back in my chair and crossed one leg over the other, not taking my eyes off him.
So, this was the infamous Alpha Roman. He looked older than the last time I saw him.
“Alpha Roman,” I greeted with a quiet nod.
He didn’t nod back. Didn’t even smile. He simply took his seat across from me and said, “Alpha Xavier.” His voice was deep and too steady. It was the kind of voice that didn’t need to rise to command. Good. I preferred tough opponents.
“Shall we begin?” I asked, tapping the panel.
The screen behind me lit up right away.
The presentation rolled smoothly. Numbers, data, and simulations of the healer's wristband filled the screen as I began. The Red Howl had been spreading rapidly throughout the packs and since I was the only one with the cure, the pack elders insisted on a meeting. One where I'd discuss how to distribute the wristband to every wolf in the realm.
To measure the effectiveness of the Healer's wristband, a volunteer pricked his palm. The silver wristband became activated. It glowed a faint blue hue and in less than a second, the nanotech triggered faster clotting and sooner, the wound disappeared.
Gasps filled the room. I was impressed. Almost impressed. Roman didn't even blink.
I ignored his impassive face and began. “99.9% reduction in fatality rates, rebuilding of torn muscles and effective tissue repair. Immediate healer notification within a twenty-kilometer radius. Toxicity suppression. Shock stabilization. The Healer's Wristband is everything.”
I let the data linger.
“This device,” I continued, “will change survival for our kind.”
Elder Helsinki leaned forward. “And distribution?”
“Universal,” I replied. “Every registered pack member across allied territories.”
Murmurs of approval followed.
Then Roman spoke. “And this is free?”
I grinned. “No.”
Murmurs filled the room again.
“I'm sorry? Price?” An Alpha said, disappointed.
I turned my gaze to him. “Yes. It's $400 per band.”
The room erupted into chaos.
Helsinki frowned. “That’s pretty steep, Xavier.”
“It reflects production cost,” I said calmly. “From coding to biometric synchronization… come on, guys… this wristband isn’t a toy.”
Roman’s jaw tightened slightly. It's for profit.”
“Compensation,” I corrected with a smile. He didn't like that.
“You’re selling survival,” he replied.
I folded my hands on the table. “Yes.” I didn't bother to pretend this time. “Because survival has value.”
His eyes darkened. “You would put a price on people’s lives?”
“I would ensure they live,”” I countered. “And ensure the innovation continues.”
He leaned forward slightly. “You have the resources to distribute them freely.”
It was a statement, not a question.
“And drain my pack’s reserves?” I raised an eyebrow. “For wolves who are not mine? I'm not that generous.”