Chapter 3: The Seven
864 Words
GIDEON
“Absolutely not.”
I didn’t bother looking up from the contract spread across my desk.
Kael Draven, the Enforcer and the only wolf stupid enough to walk into my office without knocking, loomed in the doorway like a mountain made of bad decisions.
“You didn’t even hear what I was going to ask,” Kael rumbled.
“You want permission to handle the Vancouver dispute with violence. The answer is no.” I signed the bottom of the merger agreement with sharp precision. “We use Cassius’ diplomatic channels first. Your way is the last resort.”
“My way is more fun.”
“Your way starts wars. And wars are expensive.” I finally looked up, meeting his dark glare with the cold indifference I’d perfected over three decades. “Bad for business.”
He grunted. He knew better than to argue.
“The induction starts in an hour,” he said instead. “Ashford’s already here. Kissing rings and playing the perfect politician.”
“That’s what he does best.” I closed the file. “Has Kieran finished vetting him?”
“Bloodline checks out. Pack finances are solid. Managed to avoid making enemies, which is either impressive or suspicious.”
“It’s calculated,” I said flatly. “Jaxon Ashford is a silver-tongued snake who’s spent years positioning himself for this moment. He’ll be useful. Just make sure he understands his place.”
“Seventh seat. Bottom of the food chain. Got it.”
“Dead last,” I confirmed. “But necessary.”
I stood, buttoning my jacket. “I don’t need to trust him to use him. That’s the point of the Seven.”
—
The private induction chamber was where the truth happened.
The ballroom celebration afterward would be theater. This – candlelight, ancient stone, the six of us standing in a circle around Ashford – was the real ceremony.
Blood oaths sworn on steel. The silver seal placed around his neck. Words spoken in the old tongue that bound him to us for the rest of his life.
Kieran’s voice rang out with the weight of judgment itself. “Jaxon Ashford. Do you swear to uphold the ancient laws, to serve the council’s interests above your own, to accept that your power exists at our discretion?”
“I do.” Ashford knelt on the stone floor, head bowed. Steady voice.
“Do you understand that this oath is binding unto death? That betrayal of the Seven is betrayal of the Goddess herself?”
“I understand.”
“Then rise.” Kieran placed the seal around his neck. “You are bound. You are brotherhood. You are ours.”
Ashford stood, and I spoke first.
“Welcome to the Seven, Alpha Ashford.” Cold. Absolute. “Remember always that you are seventh. Last. You have much to prove.”
“I won’t disappoint you, Apex.”
“See that you don’t.”
—
The ballroom was everything the chamber wasn’t; glittering, performative, reeking of ambition and expensive perfume.
I took my position on the raised platform where the Seven would stand for the announcement. The crowd parted as I moved through it, eyes lowering in automatic deference.
As they should.
Dorian materialized at my elbow like smoke, pale eyes gleaming. “Everything is in order. The Harrington girl is positioned stage left as the engagement announcement will follow immediately after his public oath.”
“Good.” I accepted a glass of champagne I had no intention of drinking. “And the other girl?”
“Here. Back of the room, near the marble columns.” His expression was unreadable. “She’s wearing the dress he sent her. She has no idea what’s coming.”
I didn’t ask how he knew about the dress. Dorian knew everything. It was his function.
“Keep an eye on her,” I said. “If she makes a scene, remove her quietly.”
“Understood.”
He melted back into the crowd.
Ashford’s entrance was perfectly orchestrated. He walked in to thunderous applause, Evelyn Harrington a few steps behind, took his place, and delivered the speech he’d clearly been rehearsing for months.
“–it is also my great honor to announce my engagement to Evelyn Harrington, daughter of Alpha Henry Harrington.”
The room erupted.
Cassius leaned in beside me, voice low. “The Beta girl just went white as a sheet. She’s pushing through the crowd.”
“Will she make a scene?” I asked. Voice flat.
“Gods, she confronted him. Bold little thing.” A pause. “He shut her down. Cold. She’s running, side exit.” Something shifted in Cassius’s expression. “That was brutal to watch.”
“Ashford made his choice,” I said. “She’ll recover.”
“Will she?” Cassius studied me with those too-perceptive eyes. “You sound almost interested.”
“I’m practical,” I said. The words came out sharper than I intended. “Dorian flagged her as a potential complication. I’m ensuring she doesn’t become one.”
Cassius said nothing. But he didn’t look convinced.
I need some air.
- Writer
