Chapter 76 76
Xavier's Pov
A muscle ticked in Roman's jaw. “You're putting that much on something that'll save lives? They're all our people.”
Interesting choice of word.
“Your pack is independent, right?” I replied smoothly. “The Northern Rogues take pride in that.”
A slight ripple of tension moved through the hall.
Roman’s gaze sharpened. “Do not twist my words.”
I smirked. “Then choose them carefully.”
Silence.
Helsinki cleared his throat. “Perhaps a shared fund?”
Roman didn’t break eye contact with me. “They should be free,” he repeated.
“And I repeat,” I said, my voice cooling slightly, “nothing is free.”
The air grew heavier. Dominance brushed against dominance. He didn’t back down and neither did I.
“My brother wasn't free,” he said suddenly.
The shift in topic was abrupt. Several Alphas exchanged uneasy looks.
“Yes,” I replied evenly. “He wasn't.”
“Yet he died in your territory.”
There it was. Finally said. Not shouted. Not dramatized. Just laid bare. The room held its breath.
“I’m well aware, Alpha Roman.” I said.
His eyes burned now. “You’re aware yet you speak of value.”
Ah. So that was the root of his anger. Not politics, not even economics but grief.
“I am innocent.” I said carefully.
“You were at the scene of the crime! You were clearly guilty!” he snapped.
“That was all fabricated and you know it.” He did but that wasn't the truth. It wasn't a lie that I had been there when his brother died. It was my car that knocked him down but the boy clearly walked in front of it on his own. I had nothing to do with it. However, the angry wolf here wouldn't believe me.
“No, I don't.” His hand slammed lightly against the table, not loud, but enough to echo. “My brother is dead.”
“And so are 13 of my men,” I shot back sharply.
Back when the Pack Judges declared me free and I was about to leave the Council Chambers, Roman tore through my security in an attempt to kill me. 12 men fell that day.
“You think selling wristbands makes you progressive?” Roman continued, his voice low and dangerous. “You profit from fear, from war, and from the instability you helped create.”
“And you think martyring yourself makes you righteous?” I replied. “You built your reputation on vengeance.”
His dominance surged then. It hit the room like a pressure wave. Several lesser Alphas stiffened. I didn’t move. I let mine rise to meet him.
“If you want to blame me for your brother’s death,” I said quietly, “do it directly.”
His eyes locked onto mine. “I am.”
The hall felt too small.
“You think I killed him?” I asked.
“I don't think so. I know.”
That stung. More than I expected.
"You overestimate my interest in your family," I said coldly.
A dangerous flicker crossed his face. "And you underestimate mine."
For a moment, I thought he might back down. The guards along the walls tensed but he didn’t. He pulled back his dominance just a little.
"I will not pay you to protect wolves. Their Alpha’s know better and so do you." he said.
"You will pay eventually, Roman," I replied evenly, "if you want access to the technology that is"
His eyes narrowed. "Is that a threat?"
"oh no,” I chuckled. “I'm just drawing the boundaries where they lie."
Silence fell again.
Helsinki finally stepped in. "Enough. This isn’t about past wars. It’s about future stability."
Roman kept looking at me. “You could distribute them at cost.”
"I am," I replied.
"That cost includes profit margins."
"Yes."
"At the expense of smaller packs."
"They can apply for subsidy partnerships."
"You mean indebtedness."
I leaned back slightly. "Call it what you like. Alliances require leverage."
"And this is yours?"
"Yes."
His blunt honesty seemed to anger him more than diplomacy ever could.
"You haven’t changed," he muttered.
"You’ve never met me, buddy." I said.
He let out a humorless laugh.
"I’ve known your kind my entire life."
That wasn’t about me. That was about history. About resentment. About a brother who never came home. I studied him then, not as a rival, but as a leader. He wasn’t reckless. He wasn’t foolish. He was grieving in a way that had hardened into ideology.
"You hate me," I said quietly.
"Yes."
No hesitation. The honesty almost impressed me.
"But hatred doesn’t change economics," I continued. "And it doesn’t resurrect the dead."
His eyes flared. "Watch yourself."
"Or what?" I asked.
The challenge hung between us. For a second, I honestly wondered if we were about to tear Crescent Ridge apart. Instead, he exhaled slowly.
"You will regret commodifying survival," he said.
"And you will regret mistaking pride for morality."
Another heavy silence filled the room. Then Henrik spoke again, pushing for resolution. A compromise was drafted. Packs could pool resources. I would oversee production and distribution. Contributions would be scaled by size.
Roman didn’t look satisfied but he signed it.
The meeting ended shortly after.
I didn’t expect him to leave without another word but he stood up, walked around the table, and stopped in front of me. Up close, the hatred in his eyes wasn’t wild. It was precise.
"You think this makes you untouchable," he said quietly.
"The wristbands?" I asked.
"The alliances. The technology. The leverage."
I rose slowly to my feet. "I don’t need wristbands to be untouchable."
His jaw tightened.
"One day," he said, voice barely above a whisper, "you won’t be protected by contracts and glass towers."
"And one day," I replied, meeting his stare evenly, "you’ll realize vengeance is not a strategy."
For a split second, I thought he might hit me. Instead, he stepped back.
"You’re wrong," he said.
"About what?"
"About why I hate you."
The words were calm.
He continued. “Leaders like you care about anything beyond expansion."
"And you built an empire of rogues because you care?" I asked.
"Yes."
The conviction in his voice was unshaken. I almost believed him. Almost.
"You’re not my enemy yet," I said.
He gave a sharp, humorless smile. "You’ve been my enemy for years."
Then he turned and walked away. No handshake. No formal goodbye. Just the echo of his footsteps against marble.
The doors shut behind him and the hall felt lighter instantly.
Henrik approached me cautiously. "That was… intense."
"He’s emotional," I replied.
"He’s dangerous," Henrik corrected.
I adjusted my cuffs.
"Good," I said softly. "So am I."
Because rivalry like that didn’t end in conference rooms. It ended in dominance. In strategy. In patience. Roman could hate me all he wanted. He could blame me for his brother and for the past but I wasn’t the villain of his story. I was the future of ours. And whether he liked it or not, he would either pay for the wristbands or he would watch his wolves fall without them.
Hatred didn’t change the market and I never lost to men ruled by it.