Chapter 492
“Agreed,” Braydon said smoothly. “My office at Hyde Industries. Tomorrow morning, nine AM sharp. Don’t be late, Addie.”
I didn’t bother correcting his use of my nickname. I simply reached into my purse, pulled out a crumpled twenty-dollar bill, and slapped it onto the table beside my untouched glass of ice water.
Then I turned and walked out of the restaurant, stepping into the freezing wind coming off the East River, my mind already meticulously plotting the downfall of the Alpha who thought he had me cornered.
At exactly nine AM, I stepped into the sprawling, climate-controlled sanctuary of Braydon’s top-floor office at Hyde Industries. It was designed to be a throne room. College sports trophies lined the shelves, and his massive desk was a cold slab of obsidian and chrome. Through the bulletproof glass, the city looked small and conquerable.
But the air inside was suffocating. I could feel the weight of his presence pressing against me—the kind of oppressive atmosphere that came from a man who needed everyone to know he was in charge.
I took the seat opposite him, my spine rigid, and slid a sleek folder across the obsidian surface. I had spent the entire night burying my grief under a layer of ice, crafting the perfect, emotionless mask.
“Livia Thorne,” I said, my voice strictly business. “She is a foundational stone. Safe, compliant, from a deeply respected, neutral bloodline. She will bring you strong heirs and stabilize your territory without challenging your authority.”
Braydon flipped open the folder, studying Livia’s photo with a bored expression. “Livia is a bore,” he said flatly, tossing the file aside. He leaned back, his eyes narrowing at me. “You’re not giving me options. You’re trying to hand me a safe, manageable wife who won’t cause trouble. That’s not what I need.”
“You need stability,” I countered. “Your position in the Pack is already shaky. A neutral Luna is your best chance to rebuild.”
“I need a Luna with teeth,” he snapped, standing and moving to the window. “Someone who can strike at Dallas. Someone who knows how to fight.” He turned back to me, his gaze dark. “Katherine had that fire. Even if her family is ash now, the instinct is there.”
I kept my expression flat. “Katherine is in a rehabilitation colony in the north. She is no one’s candidate.”
Braydon’s jaw tightened. He knew I was right, but his pride wouldn’t let him admit it. “Fine,” he said coldly. “I’ll consider Livia. But I want you to keep looking. There has to be someone else.”
“Have the blood-debt forgiveness contract sent to my lawyer by noon,” I said, rising from my chair. “We are done here.”
I didn’t wait for his dismissal. I turned and walked out, the heavy oak doors clicking shut behind me.
The private hallway outside was a sterile tunnel of polished marble and cold metal. Standing right in the middle of it was Chelsi Parrish.