THE REJECTED BLOOD BOND

CHAPTER 3

The trading floor of Vance Capital did not care about broken hearts or ancient magic. By 9:30 AM, the glass-walled arena was a chaotic hive of shouting traders, flashing red and green terminals, and the collective anxiety of a multi-billion-dollar empire waiting for its leader’s signal.

Julian Vance sat in his leather chair, staring at the main monitor. The numbers were moving, but for the first time in his life, they felt distant, like a radio station losing its signal.

The phantom ache in his chest had settled into a dull, thumping roar that vibrated all the way down to his fingers.

Every time his phone buzzed with an internal notification, his instincts flared, expecting Elena’s signature sign-off: Calculated and cleared, Mr. Vance.

Instead, it was his new temporary assistant, a highly recommended human corporate veteran named Brenda. She was efficient, but she didn't smell like rain.

She smelled like heavy vanilla perfume and stale coffee breath. The scent grated on his raw senses, making his inner wolf snarl behind his ribs.

The glass door slid open, and Marcus stepped in without checking with Brenda. He dropped a tablet onto Julian’s desk. The screen displayed a harsh, downward-sloping red line.

"Obsidian Holdings opened three points down this morning," Marcus said, his voice stripped of its usual casual sarcasm. "And it’s not because of the North Sea oil tariffs. Someone is shorting our stock, Julian. Heavily."

Julian forced his eyes to focus on the data.

"Who?"

"It’s coming through offshore shell companies, but the electronic signature tracks back to the Chicago territory," Marcus replied, leaning over the desk. "The Silvercrest Pack. Specifically, Lord Sterling, Lady Katherine’s brother."

Julian’s jaw tightened. "The betrothal agreement isn't even public yet. Why would they attack our market share?"

"Because wolves can smell blood from a thousand miles away, Julian," Marcus said softly.

"The Lycan underground is small.

Word has already leaked that the Alpha of Manhattan suffered a massive spiritual spike last night. They don't know who she is, but they know you found your fated mate. And they know you didn't claim her."

Julian slammed his hand onto the quartzite desk, the impact shattering a crystal glass and rattling the heavy monitors. "I rejected her! The bond is severed. It’s a dead variable."

"If it’s dead, why are you shaking?" Marcus countered, pointing at Julian's hand.

Julian looked down. His fingers were trembling, his claws threatening to push through his skin under the pressure of his raging wolf. His inner beast was furious, viewing the corporate attack as a direct consequence of letting its mate walk away unprotected.

"Sterling thinks you're unstable," Marcus continued. "He’s testing your grip on the territory.

If our stock drops another five percent before the closing bell, the High Council will have the legal right to audit our pack infrastructure. They’ll claim an unstable Alpha is a security risk to the whole Eastern Seaboard."

Julian closed his eyes, taking a deep, ragged breath. He had sacrificed the greatest gift the universe could give him to protect this company, and now, the very people he was trying to appease were using his sacrifice to ruin him.

"Buy back the shares," Julian commanded, his voice dropping into a deadly, guttural register. "Use the private equity reserves. If Sterling wants a war on the trade floor, I will bankrupt his lineage before the week is out.”