Chapter 196 196
Damien POV
“I need contingencies in place,” I say quietly. “If anything happens to me, the pack, the alliance every business tied to it all of it goes to Aurélie… until Dominique is old enough to take over.”
“Damien…” Lucas sucks in a sharp breath, stunned not just by the possibility of my death, but by the weight I’m preparing to place on Aurélie’s shoulders.
She can carry it. She’s already proven that.
And she wouldn’t be alone.
Fabrice would stand beside her. So would Maurice, Simon, Élodie. She’d have enough support to survive the storm enough strength around her to keep everything from collapsing.
“It’s either that,” I continue, voice hardening, “or it all falls into Father’s hands. Or Geneviève’s. I trust Aurélie with my life. She’d protect the Bloodnight pack without hesitation.”
Hours later, my name is scrawled across document after document. Legal transfers. Ownership clauses. Safeguards layered thick enough to choke anyone who tried to challenge them.
If I die, everything goes to her.
The pack.
The alliance.
The businesses.
At least this way, I’m protecting her and the children. At least this way, Father and Geneviève never get their hands on the power I hold.
Because if they did, they’d burn the world with it.
They’d rule the alliance drunk on control, crushing any pack that refused to kneel. The Darkvale alliance would be their first target. Aurélie would be hunted relentlessly.
But if she holds legal authority if she can defend her claim both on paper and on the ground then they have nothing. Not a single foothold to stand on.
I’m so deep inside the spiral of strategy and consequence that I don’t even notice Denise enter until she slams a tray of drinks onto the desk, right on top of the paperwork, shattering my concentration.
“Not now, Denise,” I growl.
“Yes, now,” she snaps back. “It’s four in the morning.”
Her tone stops me cold.
“You haven’t eaten. You haven’t drunk anything. You haven’t stopped working. You’re taking a break.”
The sharpness in her voice pulls me out of the obsessive haze I’d sunk into.
Four a.m.
Goddess how?
I finally look around.
My once immaculate office is unrecognisable. It’s turned into something between a war room and a crime scene. Maps cover the walls, pins stabbed into key locations, red string stretching between them to trace connections. Faces are taped up everywhere names, histories, alliances, betrayals.
We’ve ripped Father’s human underworld apart piece by piece. Exposed his secrets. His blackmail. The leverage he’s been holding over human executives and even Bloodnight alphas.
Everything.
Except one thing.
One person.
The one secret he’s buried so deeply that even now, we have nothing. No identity. No motive. No explanation for why he’s gone to such extremes to protect them.
I turn back to Denise. She hasn’t moved, arms folded across her chest, daring me to refuse her. She’s right. Time slipped away from us without warning.
And suddenly something else hits me.
I don’t know when Aurélie left.
Wait
“Aurélie,” I say sharply, turning to Lucas. “Do we know if the Alpha made it back to Darkvale?”
Lucas frowns. “I haven’t heard anything to suggest otherwise.”
“She was angry,” I admit, unease tightening my chest. “But she would’ve messaged. Or Fabrice would’ve contacted you just to confirm they arrived safely.”
They’d come straight here from the Saint Wolf pack. Florence and Fabrice abandoning their own marking ceremony just to support Aurélie who I know would’ve tried to come alone.
Stubborn as hell.
“Let me call Fabrice,” Lucas says, already standing, phone pressed to his ear as he dials.
She was pissed, yes but nothing like before. She would’ve understood eventually. Everything I did was for her safety. For hers and the children’s.
Lucas lowers the phone slowly.
“Nothing, Alpha,” he says. “It’s not even ringing.”
The look on his face mirrors the dread slamming into my chest.
Something’s wrong.
The sensation sinks deeper, curling into my gut. My wolf surges forward, restless and agitated, urging me to reach for her even though we’re too far apart to sense her properly.
The silence is wrong.
I grab my phone.
“Aurélie…” Her call doesn’t even ring. It goes straight to voicemail.
“I know you’re angry,” I say into the emptiness, my voice tight. “But call me as soon as you get this. Please. It’s urgent.”
And for the first time tonight, fear outweighs strategy.