The Trash Husband is a Lycan God

The Retaliation

The conference room at Sterling Fashion was brand new—mostly because the old one, like half the building, smelled faintly of smoke. The air purifiers were running on overdrive, but the tension in the room was thick enough to choke on.

Markus Vane sat on the east side of the long mahogany table. He was flanked by four lawyers in thousand-dollar suits, men who billed by the minute and specialized in corporate homicide.

Markus didn't look like the arrogant Alpha who had crashed the wedding a week ago. He looked tired. The bags under his eyes were dark bruises. His stock had dropped 40% in two days, and the media was camped outside his tower like a pack of hyenas waiting for a carcass.

Opposite him sat Seraphina Sterling. She wore a white suit, pristine and sharp. She hadn't slept in 48 hours, but you wouldn't know it. She was running on pure adrenaline and rage.

And next to her, slouched in a swivel chair, was Killian. He was wearing jeans and a hoodie that said "I Paused My Game to Be Here." He was meticulously peeling an orange with a pocket knife.

"Mr. Vane is prepared to offer a generous settlement," the lead lawyer, a man named Mr. Finch, droned on. He slid a check across the polished table. "Five million dollars. For the 'unfortunate structural damage' to the warehouse. And a formal apology."

Seraphina looked at the check. It was a lot of money. It would rebuild the warehouse twice over. It would save the payroll.

"Five million," she repeated, her voice neutral.

"It is a fair offer," Markus grunted, refusing to make eye contact. He was staring at the wall, his jaw tight. "Take it, Sera. End this media circus. Stop the investigation."

Seraphina reached for the check. Her hand hovered over the paper.

_Thunk._

Killian stabbed his knife into the table, pinning the check to the wood. The sound was like a gunshot in the quiet room.

"Five million?" Killian laughed, a low, dry sound. "That barely covers the emotional distress of my wife ruining her favorite pajamas. And it certainly doesn't cover the attempted murder."

"This is a legal meeting," Mr. Finch snapped, adjusting his glasses. "Who is this?"

"I'm the husband," Killian smiled dangerously. He twisted the knife, shredding the check. "And the answer is no."

"Killian," Seraphina whispered, tugging at his sleeve. "We need the capital. The insurance won't pay out for months."

"Pocket change," Killian cut her off. He looked at Markus. The playfulness vanished from his face, replaced by a predator's focus. "We don't want your money, Vane. We want your land."

Markus’s head snapped up. "My land? The Vane Territory? Are you insane?"

"The Northern Hills," Killian said calmly. "All 500 acres. Including the mineral rights. And the deed to the Vane Textile Mill."

"That is ancestral pack land!" Markus roared, slamming his fist on the table. The lawyers flinched. "I will die before I sign it over to a human! Do you know who I am? I am the Alpha of the Vane Pack!"

"Then die you shall," Killian said. He pulled out his phone and pressed a single button.

_Ping._

Markus’s phone buzzed on the table. Then Mr. Finch’s phone. Then all four lawyers’ phones. A chorus of notifications.

Markus looked at the screen. His face went white. All the color drained away, leaving him looking like a corpse.

**BANK ALERT: ALL ACCOUNTS FROZEN.**

**REASON: ASSET LIQUIDATION BY CREDITOR [BLACKWOOD GLOBAL].**

"What... what is this?" Markus stammered. "My accounts... they're locked. All of them."

"You borrowed heavily to buy the Silver Silk," Killian explained, popping a slice of orange into his mouth. "You couldn't afford the upfront cost, so you leveraged your company. Your assets. Your personal estate. Everything."

"I have thirty days to pay!" Markus argued, sweat beading on his forehead.

"Check the fine print," Killian tossed a piece of orange peel at him. It bounced off Markus's expensive suit. "The debt was sold yesterday. To a new holding company. And the new creditor called in the loan. Immediately. It's a 'distress clause'. Standard practice for high-risk borrowers."

"Who?" Markus whispered. "Who bought my debt?"

Killian leaned forward. His voice dropped to a whisper, intimate and terrifying.

"Blackwood Global."

Markus froze. The name hung in the air like a guillotine blade. Blackwood Global. The most mysterious, powerful conglomerate in the world. The company that owned half the governments in Europe. The company run by the Shadow King.

"Why..." Markus looked at Killian, realization slowly dawning in his eyes. A human trash husband using Blackwood tactics? "Who do you work for? How do you know them?"

Killian stood up. He walked around the table until he was standing behind Markus. He leaned down, his lips close to the Alpha's ear.

"I told you," he whispered. "I know a guy."

He stood up and straightened his hoodie.

"You have 24 hours to sign over the land, Markus. Or Blackwood Global forecloses. And you'll be living on the street. Maybe I'll buy you a tent. A nice one. From Wolf-Mart."

He grabbed Seraphina’s hand. She was staring at him, stunned into silence.

"Come on, boss," Killian said, pulling her up. "Let's go get lunch. I'm craving a steak. Rare."

They walked out, leaving Markus Vane staring at his frozen phone, shaking with a fear he couldn't name. The lawyers were already packing their briefcases, knowing a sinking ship when they saw one.

As the elevator doors closed, cutting off the view of the defeated Alpha, Seraphina turned to her husband.

"Who are you?" she asked.

Killian smiled, the goofy, loving smile returning.

"Just a guy who hates bullies," he said. "And really likes steak."