Chapter 117 When the Battle Never Comes
Briar's POV
I was reviewing the quarterly projections when Lily burst through the door without knocking, her face pale. "Ms. Vance, Alpha Dominic is here. He's in the lobby asking for you."
I grabbed my tablet and gestured for my assistant to follow. The elevator ride down felt interminable. By the time the doors opened, I'd steeled myself for confrontation.
Dominic Sterling stood near the reception desk with his hands clasped behind his back, surveying the space with detached interest. He was tall and broad-shouldered, his silver hair swept back from a face that radiated cold calculation and power.
I approached with professional courtesy. "Alpha Sterling, this is unexpected. If I'd known you were coming, I would have prepared a proper welcome."
He didn't acknowledge my greeting. His gaze swept over me once, dismissive and brief, before returning to examine the lobby ceiling. The deliberate snub made heat crawl up my neck but I kept my expression neutral.
Before the silence could stretch further, the elevator dinged and Owen's voice rang out. "Well, well, I was wondering why the lobby was glowing gold this morning. Turns out it's Alpha Dominic gracing us with his presence."
Owen strode toward us and clapped a hand on Dominic's shoulder, steering him firmly toward the elevator. "Come on, let's not conduct business in the lobby like common salesmen."
Dominic's jaw tightened but he allowed himself to be guided into the elevator. Just before the doors closed, his voice drifted out, cold and cutting. "I hope your management style is more professional than your hiring practices, Ms. Vance. Nepotism tends to rot a company from the inside."
Owen's response came quickly. "He's a relation, Alpha Sterling. I can't exactly fire family, can I? You of all people should understand that."
The elevator doors closed. I stood there for a moment, hands clenched, before heading back upstairs.
By the time I reached the conference room, my phone was buzzing with messages. I sent out an emergency summons to the board members and key shareholders, then settled in to wait.
Reginald arrived first, followed by a man I didn't recognize. The other board members filtered in over the next ten minutes. My secretary entered last, carrying a folder. "The stock transfer has been finalized. Alpha Julian's forty percent stake has been divided as follows: twenty percent to Emerald Forest Real Estate, and twenty percent to Crescent Ventures."
The room went silent. I'd expected the entire forty percent to go to one entity. Instead, the shares had been split, complicating the power structure in ways I hadn't anticipated.
The stranger stood. "I'm Alex Webb, representing Crescent Ventures on behalf of Alpha Adrian Castellan. We're looking forward to a productive partnership with Vance Botanicals."
Adrian Castellan. The name sent my mind racing to my conversation with Rowan last night. The youngest Castellan brother, the favored son who'd become Alpha of Silvercrest Pack. And now he owned twenty percent of my company.
Reginald spoke up. "Emerald Forest Real Estate is prepared to support the company's expansion into the southern territories."
The meeting continued for another thirty minutes. When everyone finally left, I remained seated, staring at the closed door. Dominic had orchestrated this carefully. By splitting the shares, he'd brought Adrian into the fold, likely as part of some larger scheme. It reduced Reginald's risk, gave Dominic leverage with Silvercrest Pack, and created a complex web I'd have to navigate.
The problem was I knew almost nothing about Adrian Castellan. He was an unknown variable.
I stood and walked to the window, pressing my palm against the cool glass. The strangest part was how anticlimactic it all felt. I'd spent weeks preparing for a confrontation with Julian, building up scenarios of heated arguments and power plays. Instead, he'd simply vanished, his shares transferred without a word. It was like showing up to a battlefield fully armed only to find the enemy had already retreated.
The lack of closure left me feeling hollow. I'd wanted the satisfaction of facing him down. Instead, I got paperwork and polite corporate representatives.
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Lucian's POV
I was halfway to Vance Botanicals when my phone rang. Ash's name flashed on the screen but the voice wasn't his.
"Hello? Is this Lucian Kincaid?" A young woman's voice, panicked. "I found this phone in Ash's pocket. He's hurt. We're at Mercy General Hospital and the ambulance is about to leave."
"What happened?"
"I went back to get my keys and found Neon Nights completely trashed. The front windows were smashed, tables and chairs overturned, bottles everywhere. Ash was on the floor behind the bar. There was so much blood." Her voice broke. "Please hurry."
I didn't remember ending the call or changing direction. My hands yanked the wheel around and I accelerated toward the hospital, the speedometer hitting the limit.
The girl was waiting outside the emergency entrance, pacing with tear-streaked makeup. When she saw me, she rushed forward.
"Are you Lucian? I'm Sarah. I'm so sorry—"
"Just tell me what happened."
She took a shaky breath. "We were supposed to meet for dinner around seven but Ash never showed up. I kept calling and texting but he wouldn't answer. I got worried and went to Neon Nights to check on him. When I got there, the door was hanging off its hinges and the whole place was destroyed. Glass everywhere, the sound system ripped out, even the liquor shelves torn down. Ash was unconscious near the storage room. I called 911 immediately."
"Did you see anyone else?"
She shook her head. "No one. The street was empty."
I called the bar's security company. "This is Lucian Kincaid, owner of Neon Nights. I need the security footage from this afternoon. There was a break-in and someone was assaulted."
There was a pause, then typing. "Oh. Oh no. Sir, we show a power outage in that district this afternoon. The system went offline around one PM. We're missing approximately two hours of footage."
My hand tightened around the phone. "How convenient."
Inside the hospital, Ash lay on a gurney, his head wrapped in thick bandages. His face was a mess of bruises, his left cheek swollen, his lip split and crusted with dried blood. His shirt was stiff with dried blood.
We'd texted about hiking this weekend just yesterday. Now he looked like he'd been through a war.
The doctor appeared at my elbow. "Are you family?"
"Yes. I'm his brother."
"He sustained significant head trauma. We've done a CT scan and there are signs of diffuse axonal injury. The brain moved inside the skull from impact, causing nerve fibers to tear. In severe cases, it can lead to prolonged unconsciousness, permanent neurological damage, even death."
The words hit me like blows. Unconsciousness. Damage. Death.
"Mr. Kincaid? I need you to sign these consent forms."
I looked down at the papers. The words blurred together. My hands shook so badly the pen kept slipping. It took three attempts to sign.
They wheeled Ash away, the gurney's wheels squeaking. I arranged for a car to take Sarah home, then walked outside and found a bench on the street corner.
My phone was heavy in my pocket. I pulled it out and stared at the notifications I'd been ignoring. Multiple messages from Briar from two hours ago.
I'd completely forgotten to tell her what happened.
My phone rang again. The security company, explaining about the power outage, about how sorry they were.
"So the cameras were down for exactly when my brother was attacked and the bar was destroyed."
"It appears that way, yes. But I assure you—"
I ended the call. The coincidence was too perfect. Someone had planned this, had made sure there would be no evidence. They'd beaten Ash badly enough to put him in ICU with potential brain damage and trashed Neon Nights as a message.
My hands clenched into fists. I didn't know who was responsible yet, but I would find out. And when I did, they would pay for every bruise, every drop of blood.