HIS TO COMMAND

Chapter9

Wolves in the Same Den

The morning light broke like fractured glass over the Thorne mansion. Sunbeams filtered through the wide windows of the dining hall, glinting against polished silverware and the cold, pristine marble that stretched endlessly beneath their feet.

Breakfast at the Thornes was never a family affair—it was a battlefield disguised with porcelain cups and folded napkins.

Emerald sat at the long dining table, quiet as ever, her gaze lowered to the untouched plate in front of her. She could feel eyes crawling over her skin: Vanessa’s, dripping with venom masked as sugar; Damien’s, watchful and tense; and, at the head of the table, Roman’s, burning with that controlled intensity that made every breath heavy.

But there was one more presence today.

Helena Thorne.

The woman walked into the dining hall like she had never left it, her presence commanding more weight than the mansion’s walls themselves. Dressed in a cream silk blouse with pearls at her throat, her beauty carried the polish of a woman who had survived wars disguised as marriages. At nearly sixty, she was still elegance sharpened into a blade.

Roman stiffened. Damien’s glass froze halfway to his lips. Even Vanessa faltered, her red smile twitching.

Emerald looked up slowly, curiosity sparking in her chest.

“Good morning,” Helena said, her tone carrying neither warmth nor hostility. Only authority. She didn’t wait to be welcomed; she took the seat directly opposite Emerald, like a queen reclaiming her throne.

The silence stretched, thick with unspoken history.

Roman was the first to break it. His voice was clipped. “You should have called before coming.”

Helena sipped her tea delicately, ignoring the sharpness in his tone. “This house was mine long before it was yours, Roman. I don’t need an invitation.”

Damien smirked faintly at her words, but the expression was gone as quickly as it appeared. Vanessa bristled, clearly unhappy with another woman stealing the room’s spotlight.

Emerald glanced between them all, the currents of tension winding tighter with every second.

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Helena & Emerald

Later, when the table emptied and the mansion’s rhythm lulled into quiet again, Emerald found herself drawn to Helena. The older woman had wandered into the rose garden, her figure framed by sunlight and the lazy hum of bees.

Emerald hesitated before approaching. “Mrs. Thorne?”

Helena turned, arching one brow. “Helena. I left the title behind when I left the man.”

Emerald flushed slightly. “Helena,” she corrected softly.

The woman studied her—those calculating eyes missing nothing. After a long pause, Helena asked, “Do you know how to survive a Thorne man?”

Emerald blinked. “Survive?”

Helena’s lips curved faintly, though it wasn’t a smile. “Yes, survive. Loving them is impossible. Fighting them head-on is foolish. Surviving them… that is the only path.”

Emerald swallowed. “And how did you survive?”

“I didn’t,” Helena admitted coolly, brushing a rose petal between her fingers. “That’s why I walked away.” Her gaze sharpened, piercing into Emerald’s. “But you… you might. You have steel in your spine. I can see it.”

Emerald’s chest tightened at the strange mixture of warning and encouragement.

“Here’s a secret,” Helena leaned closer, lowering her voice. “Men like Roman don’t fear betrayal. They expect it. What they fear… is losing control.”

Emerald’s mind raced. Wasn’t that what she had seen in Roman’s eyes last night when he had caged her against the wall? That obsession, that desperate demand for control.

Before Emerald could answer, a new voice cut through the air.

“What are you whispering about?”

Roman.

He stood at the garden entrance, hands shoved in his pockets, but his gaze was fixed on Emerald with quiet suspicion.

Emerald’s breath hitched.

Helena’s lips twitched, amused. “Talking about roses.”

Roman’s gaze slid to his mother, narrowing. Then back to Emerald, the weight of it pressing down like a hand at her throat. “Come with me.”

It wasn’t a request.

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Roman’s Possessiveness

Roman led her into his study, closing the door with a soft but final click. His presence filled the room like fire swallowing oxygen.

“Stay away from her,” he said flatly.

Emerald blinked. “What?”

“My mother,” he clarified, his voice low, dangerous. “She has no business with you. Don’t listen to her. Don’t trust her.”

Emerald’s defiance flickered. “She’s your mother.”

“She’s poison,” Roman snapped, stepping closer. “She left us. She left me. And now she wants to crawl back into our lives through you?” His jaw clenched. “I won’t allow it.”

Emerald’s heart thudded. He was too close, his shadow blotting out the lamp’s light.

“I didn’t realize I needed your permission to speak to her,” she said quietly, though her pulse betrayed her nerves.

Roman’s eyes darkened. “You need my permission for everything.”

The words chilled her more than they angered her.

Before she could answer, the door banged open.

Damien stood there, eyes blazing.

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Roman vs Damien

“You’re choking her,” Damien spat.

Roman turned slowly, like a predator interrupted mid-hunt. “Careful, brother.”

“No, you be careful,” Damien shot back, stepping into the room. “You’re not obsessed with revenge anymore, Roman. You’re obsessed with her. Admit it.”

Roman’s fists tightened. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Then why does it bother you if she speaks to Mother? Or to me?” Damien pressed, his tone sharp. “Why do you stalk her every move? If you’re not obsessed, then let her breathe.”

Emerald’s chest tightened, torn between shock and a dangerous flicker of gratitude.

Roman’s voice dropped, quiet but lethal. “Stay. Away. From her.”

Damien laughed bitterly. “Or what? You’ll throw me out of my own father’s house?”

The tension snapped like a whip.

“You forget,” Roman said coldly, “this house, this company, this empire—all of it belongs to me. Father chose me. You walked away with Mother, remember? And what did she give you? Nothing. Because you abandoned her too.”

The words struck like knives. Damien’s jaw flexed, his fists trembling at his sides.

Emerald’s eyes darted to Helena, who had appeared in the doorway, arms folded, watching her sons with quiet fury.

Her voice was sharp. “He’s right, Damien. You wanted freedom, and you got emptiness. That was your choice. Now don’t cry over it.”

Damien’s face twisted with pain and rage, but he said nothing. He turned sharply, storming out of the room.

Helena’s gaze shifted to Roman. “You may have inherited everything, Roman, but mark my words—you’ll lose more than your brother if you keep tightening the noose around that girl.”

Roman’s eyes flicked to Emerald. And for the first time, Emerald saw something flicker in them—not anger, not arrogance. Something rawer. Something dangerous.

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Emerald’s Resolve

That night, Emerald lay awake in her room, Helena’s words echoing in her skull: Men like Roman don’t fear betrayal. They fear losing control.

And she realized with a start—Roman was already losing control.

But she couldn’t let herself get distracted. Not by his intensity, not by Damien’s protectiveness, not even by Helena’s twisted mentorship. She

had a purpose.

I need to find the truth. I need to unravel every secret tied to the Thornes… and to Roman.

Her fists tightened in the sheets.