CHAPTER 4: THE LYCAN KING IS WATCHING
1699 Words
ROSETTE’S POV
He moved to sit in one of the armchairs near the window, gesturing for me to take the other. Once we were settled, he began to explain.
Sinclair Global and Giordani Enterprises had been locked in warfare for fifty years, fighting over the same contracts, the same markets, the same spheres of influence.
But the enmity between our families went back two hundred years. Territorial disputes that turned violent. Blood feuds that never healed.
The only thing preventing open warfare was mutual deterrence. Both families were powerful enough to destroy each other completely.
“Giordani is different from other Alphas you’ll deal with,” Richard said seriously. “He’s not part of the modern pack system. He’s ancient, a pure Lycan from before pack structures even existed. He doesn’t follow the same rules, doesn’t play by the same limitations. He’s been building his empire for centuries, and he thinks in timescales that most supernatural beings can’t even comprehend.”
“How old is he?” I asked.
“No one knows for certain. At least five hundred years, possibly older. He was already a legend when the modern Alpha Council formed two hundred years ago.” Richard leaned forward. “His mate died two centuries ago, and he’s never taken another. Never even shown interest in remarrying, which is almost unheard of for someone of his age and position. Some whisper that his Lycan went dormant after her death, which would make him unpredictable at best and actively dangerous at worst.”
Two hundred years alone. I tried to imagine it and couldn’t. Grief that would span centuries. Emptiness that would never heal.
“In business, he’s absolutely merciless,” Richard continued. “He identifies what he wants and takes it, burning down anyone who stands in his way. He’s bought out companies just to shut them down out of spite. He’s orchestrated hostile takeovers that left entire families ruined. And he does it all with cold, calculated precision that makes it clear he’s been playing these games longer than most of us have been alive.”
“You’re afraid of him,” I realized.
Richard didn’t deny it.
“I’m cautious of him, which is different. Giordani Enterprises and Sinclair Global maintain a careful balance precisely because we’re too evenly matched. If either side pushed too hard, we’d both burn. But now that you’re taking over the company, now that you’re visible and known to be a True Blood Alpha…” He exhaled slowly. “He’ll see you as an opportunity. A way to finally tip the scales in his favor.”
“How?”
“That’s what makes him dangerous. I don’t know. He could try to forge an alliance through business deals designed to trap us. He could attempt to undermine your authority with the other packs by spreading rumors or manufacturing scandals. He could even try to force a mate bond, though that would start a war between our families.” Richard’s expression was grim. “The man plays games that span decades, Rosette. You won’t see his moves coming until it’s too late.”
I absorbed this, turning it over in my mind. Another powerful man who wanted to use me for his own ends. Another threat to navigate.
“What does he look like?” I asked. “So I know who to avoid.”
Richard pulled up a photo on his tablet. “This was taken at a business summit three months ago. He doesn’t allow many photos, but I keep track of him as best I can.”
I looked at the image and my breath caught.
The man in the photo was strikingly handsome in a way that seemed almost inhuman. Features that could have been carved from marble, dark hair swept back from his face, and eyes that even in the photograph seemed to burn with intelligence and predatory focus.
But it wasn’t his appearance that made my heart stutter. It was the recognition that washed over me, unbidden and unexplainable. I’d never seen this face before.
So why did it feel familiar?
“Stay away from him,” Richard said firmly. “If he approaches you at business functions, be polite but distant. Never meet with him privately under any circumstances. Never accept gifts or favors or anything that could put you in his debt. Treat him as the enemy he is, because make no mistake, he will try to destroy us if given the opportunity.”
I dragged my gaze away from the photograph. “I’ll be careful.”
“Promise me, Rosette. Promise me you’ll avoid him at all costs.”
“I promise to be careful,” I repeated, which wasn’t quite the same thing but was the best I could offer.
Richard clearly heard the distinction, but he must have decided not to push. He stood, pressing a kiss to my forehead like he used to when I was small.
“Rest,” he said gently. “Tomorrow we’ll start planning your official introduction to the company. You’ll meet the board, start reviewing our current projects and contracts, begin learning everything you need to know. But tonight, you need to recover your strength.”
After he left, Willow returned with tea, the expensive blend she used to make when I couldn’t sleep after Mom and Raphael died. She left it with a gentle smile and slipped out, giving me space.
Outside my window, I could see the estate gardens glittering with Christmas lights, their reflection dancing across the snow. Somewhere downstairs, the staff was probably celebrating the holiday. Normal people doing normal things while my world had been torn apart and rebuilt in the span of twenty-four hours.
I picked up my phone for the first time since the gala.
Hundreds of notifications. Messages from people I hadn’t spoken to in two years, old friends suddenly interested in reconnecting, business associates congratulating me, pack members reaching out.
All desperately transparent. They didn’t care about me. They cared about what I represented, what I could give them, what doors I could open.
I turned the phone off without responding.
Let them wait.
Let them see that Rosette Sinclair didn’t need anyone. Not false friends or opportunistic allies or the pretty lies about love and mates that had nearly destroyed me.
A soft knock interrupted my thoughts.
“Come in,” I called, expecting Willow with more tea or perhaps Dr. Orson to check on me again.
Instead, one of the household guards entered, looking uncertain about disturbing me.
“Miss Sinclair, my apologies for the interruption. There’s been a delivery for you.”
“A delivery? On Christmas night?”
“The courier insisted it was time-sensitive.” He held out a large bouquet wrapped in black silk. “There’s no card or sender information.”
I stood and crossed the room to accept the flowers. The moment my fingers touched the wrapping, my wolf stirred. Not in alarm or distress, but with interest that felt almost foreign after hours of emptiness.
The guard was still standing there, waiting to be dismissed.
“That will be all, thank you.”
He bowed slightly and left, closing the door behind him.
I carried the bouquet to my dresser and carefully unwrapped the silk.
Black calla lilies. Rare and expensive, absolutely fresh despite the late hour and the fact that they were notoriously difficult to keep alive outside of very specific conditions.
Someone had gone to considerable trouble and expense to source these. On Christmas Day, no less.
There was no card. No note. No indication of who had sent them.
Could this be from Ethan? A pathetic attempt to win me back?
I chuckled, considering tossing the flowers in the bin. But something about them was captivating. Intimate.
I touched one of the dark petals, and my wolf stirred again with that same strange recognition. She knew something I didn’t. She’d been waiting for this, even if I hadn’t.
My father’s warning echoed in my mind: Stay away from him. Never meet with him alone. Treat him as the enemy he is.
I’d spent two years being underestimated, being dismissed, being treated like I was nothing.
Those days were over.
The world was about to learn what happened when you challenged a True Blood Alpha who had nothing left to lose and everything to prove.
***
Across the city, in a penthouse that overlooked Sinclair territory, Zavien Giordani stood at floor-to-ceiling windows, whiskey in hand, watching the Sinclair mansion glow in the distance.
Christmas lights twinkled across the city below him. Families gathering. Lovers exchanging gifts. All that seasonal warmth and joy that meant nothing to a man who’d stopped feeling two centuries ago.
His Lycan had woken for the first time in two hundred years. The awakening had been violent and explosive, his first real breath after drowning for so long he’d forgotten what air tasted like.
He had felt it the second her power detonated from somewhere deep in Timber Pack territory.
Rosette Sinclair.
MINE, his beast had roared with a certainty that shook him to his core. OURS. FINALLY.
For two hundred years, his Lycan had been dormant. Sleeping through decades and then centuries, uninterested in anything or anyone after his mate’s death had torn a hole in his soul that nothing could fill.
He’d learned to live with the emptiness, had built an empire while feeling only half alive, had accepted that he would exist in this gray, muted state until the end of his unnaturally long life.
And then just hours ago, everything had changed.
A True Blood Alpha had revealed herself in a spectacular display of power and rage, and his Lycan had woken up screaming for her.
“My lord?” Vesper, his head of security, entered the room with his usual silent efficiency. “The flowers were delivered as requested.”
Zavien smiled at his reflection in the dark glass. Not a pleasant smile. The smile of a predator who’d finally caught the scent of prey worth hunting.
“Good,” he said softly, taking a slow sip of whiskey. “Let the game begin.”
- Writer
