NICK
Cole is sitting across from me looking like a man who already knows how this ends.
“Tell me again,” I say.
“I set up the resort. Donated the trip through Reed Consulting. Structured it through the school competition.”
“Without telling me.”
“You wanted time with her outside the apartment. You said it. I facilitated.”
I stand up. My chair hits the wall behind me.
“You facilitated a fake competition for my six-year-old daughter. You put my Beta’s name on a filing any first-year associate could trace. And you did it without telling me because you knew I’d shut it down.”
Cole holds my gaze. Barely. “It worked.”
“I am not your friend right now, Cole. I am your Alpha. Alexander Hunt traced the donation. Your name is on the filing. Every single thing that happened at that resort is a
