Claimed By The Alpha Twin

The Weight Of Control

Chapter 11: The Weight of Control

Lucas

I stepped out of the mansion and was immediately greeted by the black car waiting at the curb, its engine humming like a restless beast.

Blake, my secretary and most trusted assistant, stood at the front of the vehicle right where I expected him. He was always ten steps ahead. He gave a slight bow, his posture perfect as always.

"Good morning, Mr. Lucas."

I gave him a single nod in return, my expression as unreadable as ever.

He moved quickly, opening the rear passenger door with practiced efficiency. I slid in, adjusting my shirt cuff and crossing one leg over the other. A cup of hot coffee sat in the center console, beside a neatly arranged folder with today's pack briefings. The leather seats were cool against my back. The scent of old paper, expensive cologne, and faint pine from the surrounding woods filled the space.

As the car pulled away from the mansion, I picked up the document and skimmed the first page, absently taking a sip of the coffee. It was exactly the perfect temperature. Just the way I liked it.

Perfect.

"Why was Zain late this morning?" I asked without looking up, my voice calm but edged with the expectation of an answer.

Normally, that boy was punctual. He would wake up at dawn, buried in spreadsheets by six, coffee at my door by seven. That was exactly why my father loved keeping him around. But today, he'd missed every marker.

Despite the fact that Caleb and I were twins, my father decided to hand over the pack business to me specifically at a young age. He believed I was more capable. I didn't know how Caleb felt about that, but honestly, I didn't care. It wasn't like I was interested in any position anyway.

"Sir," Blake said carefully from the front seat. "Zain submitted the wrong report to your office yesterday. He had to clear up the mix-up this morning and retrieve the correct one."

I leaned back in my seat, folding the page I was reading in half.

My father wasn't getting any younger, no matter how strong he still was. He was bound to age someday. That was inevitable. He was probably in his late fifties now. I guessed that was why he handed over the pack's responsibilities to me, despite the fact that I was highly uninterested in any of it and never signed up for it in the first place.

All of this was meant to be the duty of an Alpha—which Maya's decision would determine. And that would probably be Caleb.

Blake had worked with me longer than anyone else. He'd been incredibly useful, especially since I was deeply uninterested in the responsibility assigned to me. He'd helped me through it. He was the only one apart from my father I was close to and could open up to freely.

I respected how he carried himself—a man too sharp to be caught off guard, too loyal to ever speak out of turn. That rare, brutal competence was why I trusted him.

Despite the fact that this was forced on me, I took it seriously. What was worth doing was worth doing well. Especially when I was involved and it had to do with me.

The pressure on Blake had been intense. After all, he wasn't immune to it. It had been showing on his health, which was why I had hired someone younger to take on smaller tasks—handling minor reports, scheduling reminders, and organizing meetings—so Blake could focus on where I needed him most.

Everyone knew one thing about me: I didn't tolerate mistakes. I believed in perfection. I paused for a moment, then calmly looked down at the file beside me.

"Make sure it never happens again."

"Yes, sir." Blake replied immediately, his voice steady.

I moved my attention to the documents and picked them up. I kept reading. One of the reports had an error in the financials. I circled it with my pen.

I flipped the page—and froze.

I wasn't staring at anything. Not really. My eyes weren't even focused on the documents in my hands. I suddenly thought about her.

A particular girl I had built walls around for years in order to protect myself—and her—by maintaining distance.

Blake must have noticed through the rearview mirror.

"A-Are you okay, sir?" He asked, like one wrong word could cost him everything.

I sighed and dropped the file. My left hand went through my hair. My gaze drifted out the tinted window. The city sprawled beneath us, wolves going about their lives, packs moving in their own circles, unaware of the weight I carried. I tapped my fingers against the door, the rhythm steady and thoughtless.

Was I actually okay? Was I?

My father always pressed me—daily, like a wolf nipping at my heels—about finding myself a woman and settling down. He repeated the same words, which echoed in my mind like a broken record.

"You weren't always like this, Lucas. You used to laugh, live. Now you're just cold. You need to settle down. You're not getting any younger, you know. And be open to emotions. Stop treating it like a plague."

Those were his daily mantras.

I was only twenty-three, and yet he kept talking like I was fading away.

And emotions?

Hearing the word always made me scoff. I couldn't figure out why. Maybe it was the word itself, or what it meant. A very foolish concept I had outgrown long ago. Sentimentality slowed people down, and I didn't have the luxury of being slow.

Emotions made people irrational. Selfish. Possessive. Unable to think straight. Foolish. They made people act based on what the heart felt instead of the mind.

They made people weak.

My father always saw right through me, no matter how I tried to keep my expression unreadable. He probably knew my feelings for Maya and wanted me to move on so I wouldn't get hurt, since she and Caleb were in love with each other. That was why he kept pushing me to settle down and introducing me to people I wasn't interested in.

I didn't think I would ever be able to get over Maya. She wasn't just my best friend. She was also my first love. And I couldn't seem to get her off my mind.

My lips twitched midway through my thoughts, curving into something dangerously close to a smirk.

That girl—Maya—was a storm of emotions. This morning, those wide eyes staring at me with so much fury. Clutching a blanket like armor. Glaring as if she could actually wound me.

It had been amusing, if nothing else. Seeing her like that only made me feel a strange sense of satisfaction.

She'd surprised me, and that didn't happen often.

And last night... the way she responded to every touch, like no one had ever taken their time with her before. The way she trembled under my hands. How she clung to me like she needed me. How intoxicating her lips tasted.

Even now, my mind was still unraveling from that kiss. I'd been insatiable, greedy for more. I couldn't go a single minute without thinking of the softness of her lips, the way it felt to be with her.

She was becoming an addiction I couldn't fight. I needed her. I wanted her.

But I would have to stay away.

Every thought of her sent fire through my veins, making my pulse spike.

"What a shame," I murmured to myself. "I didn't get to finish what I started."

I could handle the fact that she assumed it was a dream. But did she really mistake me for Caleb? Really? Caleb!?

Why was she so obsessed with him that she even saw him in her dreams?

The thought of it only infuriated me more.

I needed to come to terms with the fact that there would never be a place for me in her life.

"Sir," Blake called from the front. "We're here."

A moment later, the door opened. I stepped out and passed a hand through my hair.

In front of me stood a tall glass and steel structure. My building. My empire.

I stared at it with indifference.

Great. This was just what I needed.

Emotions were just distractions.

Time to get back to reality.