Chapter 45 Chapter 45

Chapter 45 Chapter 45


Elena Pov

I slammed the heavy door to my chambers with more force than necessary, the sharp click echoing like a gunshot in the stillness of the room. A jolt of pain flared across my ribs as I moved, a biting reminder of exactly what kind of night it had been. My fingers brushed the tender skin along my jaw, and I let out a sharp wince. Bastard. My own brother had been the one to do this to me.

The full-length mirror near the bathroom caught my reflection under the dim lighting. I stepped closer, tilting my head to inspect the damage. Dark, blooming purple bruises were already marring the skin of my throat where Marcus’s hand had crushed my airway. My jaw was swollen on the left side, and when I lifted my blouse, a map of dark marks painted my ribs and side. I looked like I’d gone ten rounds with a feral wolf and come out on the losing end.

I grabbed a clean towel from the rack, doused it in warm water, and pressed it against the worst of the cuts. The sting made my eyes water, but I kept my jaw locked tight. No tears. Not for this. I dabbed at the jagged gash on my forearm, watching blood mix with the water and swirl down the marble sink. Every press sent a fresh wave of pain shooting up my arm, but it served to ground me. It kept my mind sharp.

Satisfied that I wouldn’t bleed all over my clothes, I walked over to the small bar cart in the corner and poured a generous glass of whiskey. The amber liquid burned as it went down, spreading a warmth through my chest that did nothing to soothe the cold fury simmering underneath. I took another sip, then retrieved the encrypted phone from my desk drawer.

It was time to work.

I dialed the number I had committed to memory weeks ago. It rang twice before a gravelly voice answered.

“Elena.”

“Thomas,” I said, keeping my tone cool and professional. “He knows you are back in the city. I assume you already know that.”

A low, dry chuckle crackled through the line. “I do. I was wondering when you’d reach out, formally.”

I leaned against the edge of my desk, ignoring the protest from my bruised ribs. “Marcus is slipping. Badly. That boy—Sam—has him completely twisted and directed, I guess this is an open window. I know you two have scores to settle. He nearly killed me. He lost control like a newly turned pup. His focus is shattered. He’s not the same Marcus who was tough so I will let you do your thing.”

Thomas stayed quiet for a long moment, listening. I could almost hear him weighing my words.

“He’s unstable,” I continued. “His obsession is clouding his judgment. He’s pouring resources into protecting that boy instead of securing our territories. If you’re planning to move, now is the time. I’ll give you the signal myself when the opening is perfect. Just be ready.”

“Ready?” Thomas’s voice carried a dark, amused edge. “I’ve been ready for years. You just make sure your information is solid, Elena. I’d hate for this to be a waste of both our time.”

“It won’t be,” I said flatly. “I’ll contact you soon. Don’t move until I say.”

I ended the call without waiting for a reply and set the phone down. One problem set in motion.

I pressed the intercom button on the wall. “Send the new staff member to my chambers. The one from the east wing. Now.”

A few minutes later, a hesitant knock sounded at the door. I opened it myself. The mole stood there in his servant’s uniform, looking pale and twitchy. His nose was still slightly swollen from when I’d broken it earlier, and he kept his injured hand tucked close to his body.

“Close the door,” I ordered.

He obeyed quickly, stepping inside. His eyes darted around the room, carefully avoiding my bruises.

I didn’t offer him a seat. I simply poured another glass of whiskey—a smaller one this time—and took a slow, deliberate sip while I studied him. The silence stretched until he started shifting his weight nervously from foot to foot.

“I have information for you to pass on,” I said finally. “A big Valerius weapons shipment is moving in two days. Midnight. The route goes through the old industrial docks on the east side. Three trucks. Security will be heavy, but it’s not impossible—two escort vehicles, standard armed detail. Tell Detective Harlan exactly that. No more, no less.”

The mole nodded rapidly. “Yes, ma’am.”

I set my glass down. “Did you already tell him about Thomas Albert being in town?”

He swallowed hard. “Yes. Like you instructed.”

“Good.” I circled him slowly, my heels clicking sharply against the hardwood floor. “Why did you choose to work for the cops, anyway? What made a pathetic little worm like you think you could play me in my house?”

He started to sweat. “I—I got caught on a job. Credit cards, pinned murder on me, changed identities… nothing that big. But they had me. Detective Harlan said this was my way out. I didn’t have a choice. Please, I—”

“Never mind,” I cut him off sharply. I had no interest in his sob story.

I stepped right into his space, close enough that he could smell the whiskey on my breath. He tried to lean back but froze when I grabbed his collar with my good hand. A flare of pain shot through my ribs from the movement, but I ignored it.

“Listen to me very carefully,” I whispered, my voice low and venomous. “Outside these walls, people still fear the Valerius name. They see us as untouchable. Powerful. The kind of family that swallows men like you whole and spits out the bones. You will continue playing your role perfectly. You will feed Harlan exactly what I tell you to feed him. Nothing else. If you slip up—if you breathe a single word that isn’t mine—I will make sure your mother in that little apartment in Oakwood and your sweet little sister who just started community college both pay for your stupidity. Do you understand me?”

His face had gone completely white. He nodded so fast I thought his neck might snap.

“Yes… yes, ma’am. I understand. I won’t fail.”

I released his collar and stepped back. “Good. Now get out.”

He practically bolted for the door, fumbling with the handle before slipping out and closing it quietly behind him. The room fell into silence once more.

I walked over to the tall window and stared out at the dark, sprawling grounds of the estate. My mind churned.

Marcus had lost it. Completely. Throwing me around like I was some enemy instead of the sister who had stood by him for years, cleaning up his messes and holding this empire together while he played guardian to that omega boy. Sam. The way Marcus looked at him, the way he nearly killed me over him—it was disgusting. Pathetic. This obsession was going to get us all killed if I didn’t do something.

I had sacrificed too much to watch it crumble now. And now Marcus was ready to burn everything down for one pretty little omega who should have stayed a distant responsibility.

No. I wouldn’t let that happen.

I moved to the far wall where an old framed photograph hung. It showed the three of us—Marcus, me, and our father—standing in front of the original Valerius estate years ago. We looked unstoppable. I traced my finger over the glass, right across Marcus’s face.

A slow, dangerous smile curved my lips.

Let him keep drowning in his obsession. I would be the one to save this family.

Even if it meant tearing it apart first.