Chosen By Fate: The Billionaire’s Secret

ChapterTwo

Joey Rohan

Howl Town, LunaCity

Joey Rohan had run out of time. He had tried to get Dom on board, but that man was too damn stubborn for his own good. Now he had to report back to Caldwell.

The deal was simple: Dom’s life would be spared if he joined the revolution. If he didn’t, they would come after him. All hands had to be on deck, so they needed to know who was for or against the werewolf revolution in order to strike in unison.

So far, only House Langston hadn’t joined forces with them. They had been meeting at different locations in Lunacity for the past eight months. Today, they were meeting in Bloodsquare Hall.

“So, what did he say?” Dr. Caldwell asked as soon as Joey walked through the doors.

The darkroom was eerily quiet. Joey marched slowly to the front row of the hall where Caldwell stood before answering.

“He’s not with us.”

Much to his surprise, Caldwell didn’t utter a word. He had expected Dom to decline the invitation. And he had.

“I see.” Caldwell scratched his beard thoughtfully, something he did when deep in thought.

“Well, that’s it then. What’s the verdict?” Joey’s patience was thinning by the minute. He and Dom had their differences, but there was no way he was going to co-sign Dom’s death sentence. Not without a fight.

“That would be all.” With that, Caldwell dismissed him. Or thought he did.

Joey didn’t budge. Instead, he stepped forward, blocking Caldwell’s path.

“I asked a question,” Joey growled.

“I don’t answer to you, Joey Rohan.”

“Well, maybe you should.”

In a flash, Joey Transformed and lunged at Caldwell, but Caldwell had also Transformed, dodged Joey and slashed Joey’s face with his sharp claws. Joey tasted his own blood, but it only fueled his rage. He slowly circled Caldwell till he found an opening to sink his teeth into Caldwell’s hind leg. When Caldwell didn't stop moving, he bit harder till he heard a bone snap. Caldwell might have been clever, but he wasn’t the strongest.

Caldwell whined and grovelled, the universal werewolf sign of surrender. Joey released his leg.

The thing about being a werewolf was that their wounds healed easily, a genetic survival mechanism that allowed them to outlive humans and recover from injuries inflicted during the war—until the humans created the Rabid Dog Serum (RDS).

That was the one thing they could not recover from, along with silver bullets. RDS ate werewolves alive from the inside out until they lost their grip on reality and went insane within forty-eight hours. Victims usually died by the third day.

No cure had been found since humans invented it. It was also banned in LunaCity, unless a werewolf smuggled it in or was in cohorts with humans.

By the time Joey Transformed back into his human state, the claw marks on his face had faded, and Caldwell’s bones had sinewed themselves back together.

“There has to be another way.”

“A deal is a deal, Rohan. No backing out now.” Caldwell spat blood onto the ground.

“I’m out.”

Maybe Dom was right. This revolution was going to start another war, one they might not be fully prepared for, no matter how strong they believed they were.

“There’s no out, Rohan. And if you walk away, I can’t guarantee your safety.”

Joey had heard that threat so many times it had lost its effect. He walked toward the exit, his stride quick and determined. He needed to leave and find Dominic, warn him that his life was in danger and tell him everything the werewolf revolution had been planning.

Before he reached the door, a gunshot rang out. It took him a moment to realize the gun had been aimed at him. His body hit the ground with a heavy thud. The last thing he saw was Caldwell’s smirk. The last thing he heard was, “Goodbye, Rohan.”

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Chloe Lamar had thrown Imani a surprise celebratory dinner party the evening the magazine edition was released, honoring her inclusion on the Forbes list. Imani had definitely been surprised. After the guests left her mansion, including Chloe, an exhausted Imani clutched her silver-colored, diamond-studded heels and staggered to her bedroom. If she had a man, he would have been waiting in bed to give her the best s*x of her life. But being forty and single, all she had was an empty queen-sized mattress in stylishly decorated bedroom.

She showered, changed, and now sat upright in bed, unable to sleep. What was she supposed to do with her life now?

She rose and wandered into her enormous walk-in closet, filled with the most expensive designer clothes, shoes, bags, and jewelry money could buy. Normally, she would admire them. Tonight, she wasn’t in the mood.

She pulled an old photo album from a safe perched high in the closet and sat on the floor. Opening the photo album, she smiled through the tears welling in her eyes when she spotted a picture of herself at the beach.

She had been fifteen then. Best friends with Sugarbee.

Their parents hadn’t approved of the friendship, but she hadn’t cared. Sugarbee saw her, loved her for who she was, and was always there for her. Her parents, on the other hand, were more concerned with the success of the family business than the well-being of their daughter. Yes, she had everything money could buy. Some might have called her spoiled, but she learned early that money could never replace a parent’s love.

She remembered how they never showed up to events that mattered to her, or even congratulated her when she won the regional science fair. Now that news of her success had spread like wildfire, would they finally reach out?

She hadn’t heard from them in two decades, though she had kept tabs on them through social media. They seemed determined to erase every trace of her from their lives—if she had ever truly been part of it at all—ever since she got pregnant at nineteen, and they disowned her.

She flipped the page. A chubby teenage version of herself stared back from a selfie with Sugarbee, their faces streaked with colorful face paint. Another photo showed Sugarbee holding an ice cream cone, mid–brain freeze.

Imani couldn’t bring herself to look anymore. It felt like digging up a past life she wasn’t ready to face.

What had become of Sugarbee? Where was she now? Was she still the same feisty, mother-hen friend she remembered?

If she reached out, would Sugarbee forgive her for what she had done? Would Imani ever forgive herself for what she had done to her childhood best friend?

Tears slid down her cheeks as her thoughts fed the tight, rapidly growing anxiety in her chest.

What if Chloe found out and refused to stay friends with her? No, she couldn’t lose Chloe too.

What if some obsessive internet stalker dug deep enough to uncover her real story? Would Sugarbee expose her? Would her empire crumble because of one foolish mistake?

Her breathing grew shallow. Her heart pounded violently in her chest. She reached for her phone and dialed Zizi, her personal assistant. It rang twice.

“Hello?” Zizi answered.

Before Imani could speak, she passed out.