Crash-Landed On An Island With Lycans

The day I became CEO of Ashford Global, my fiancé kissed my cheek like he meant it. Three hours later, he tried to kill me. I didn't know that yet, standing barefoot on the cold floor of my grandfather's private study, listening to the board argue through a door that wasn't quite shut. My heels sat abandoned by the chaise...I'd kicked them off the second the reception doors closed, needing one minute where no one expected a smile. One minute to remember which version of myself was real. "You're making a mistake, Henry." Marcus Webb's voice carried through the crack in the door. He was the CFO for twelve years, the man who'd never once looked at me without calculating how to push me out. "The board has concerns. Her age, her experience, her..." "Her gender?" My grandfather's voice sliced through, "Say what you mean, Marcus. We're all adults." Papers shuffled. Someone coughed into a fist. "I mean her readiness." Marcus's tone had gone tight, the way it always did when he was losing. "She's twenty-six. She's never run a company this size. And with the merger on the horizon, we need stability, not..." "The merger?" I pressed closer to the door, my pulse was kicking hard against my ribs. What merger? "The one with Ethan's investment group." That was Gregory Moore...head of acquisitions, old enough to remember when my grandfather was the one fighting for his seat. "Once they're married, it makes sense to consolidate. He has the financial expertise; she has the legacy. Together, they could..." "No." My grandfather didn't raise his voice. He didn't need to. The room went so quiet as if someone had died. I'd heard that tone exactly twice before. Once when I was eight, trying to forge his signature on a permission slip for a field trip he'd already approved. Once when I was sixteen, bringing home a boy with a motorcycle and a smile that promised nothing but trouble. That tone meant the argument was over, and anyone who pushed would regret it. "My granddaughter will become CEO because she earned it." Each word landed like a hammer stroke. "She's worked every department since she was fifteen. She restructured our shipping routes, saved the pharmaceutical division from bankruptcy, and tripled our revenue in three years. The future belongs to the person who earns it...not the one who marries into it." Then there was the unmistakable clack of his cane hitting the floor. "Now. Does anyone else have concerns they'd like to share before I call her in?" The door swung open before anyone could answer. I smoothed my dress… it was emerald silk, because green made me feel invincible...and walked in with my shoulders back and held my chin high. The board members scattered like pigeons, suddenly fascinated by my appearance. All except Marcus, who stared at me with the kind of hate that made my skin prickle. "Grandfather." I crossed to him, kissed his papery cheek. "They're ready." "Of course they are." His hand found mine, he squeezed once...dry, warm, familiar. "Make me proud." I always did. The ceremony blurred into flashbulbs and champagne flutes and hands that pumped mine with smiles that didn't reach their eyes. Reporters shouted questions about my vision for the company. Investors circled like sharks scenting chum. I smiled, nodded, said all the right words...because that's what you do when you're a woman in a boardroom full of men. You never let them see your teeth grit. Ethan appeared the moment the cameras clicked off, his hand slid around my waist like it belonged there. He was beautiful...sharp cheekbones, warm brown eyes, a smile that had once made me believe he was the exception to every rule. "Congratulations, darling." He kissed my temple in a soft and careful manner. "You were magnificent." "Thank you." I leaned into him, letting myself enjoy the warmth of his chest. "Did you see Grandfather's speech? He eviscerated Marcus." "I saw." Something flickered across his face...but it was gone before I could name it. "He's always been protective of you." "Because he knows what I'm worth." My grandfather raised me after my parents died. He taught me everything...business, power, survival. When the board wanted to sell the company piece by piece, he fought them. When competitors tried to gut us, he outmaneuvered them. When I doubted if I could carry his legacy, he looked at me with those pale blue eyes and said, "You're the only person I trust with it." I wore those words like a second spine. But spines can be broken. "Ethan, we should get going." I started to pull away. "The jet's waiting." "Actually..." He caught my hand, his smile shifted into something apologetic. "I can't go with you." I blinked. "What?" "I have a board meeting tomorrow morning. Emergency session. Something about the quarterly reports...I can't miss it." He squeezed my fingers. "I'm sorry, darling. I wanted to be there for your celebration, but..." "But you have work." I forced a smile. "Of course. I understand." "Just for tonight. I'll fly out first thing tomorrow and meet you at the resort." He kissed my forehead. "You'll barely have time to miss me." Something flickered in his eyes...too fast to read. I told myself it was disappointment. It probably was. Or maybe not. "I'll call you when I land," I said, pulling away gently. "Don't miss me too much." "Impossible." My grandfather appeared at my elbow before I could say more. His hand found mine, and he pressed something small and cold into my palm. It was metal, old and heavy. "Protect this," he whispered, so low I almost missed it. "Trust no one." I looked down. A key. Silver, neatly carved with symbols I'd never seen before. It felt denser than it should, like it carried weight beyond its metal. "Grandfather..." "Don't ask." His gaze met mine, and for the first time in my life, I saw raw fear there. "Just keep it safe. Promise me." "I promise." He pulled me into a sudden embrace, his arms then tightened around my shoulders. I felt him press something else into my hand...a small slip of paper. "Read it on the plane," he breathed. "Not before. And Clara..." "I know." I pulled back, tucking both the key and the paper into my clutch. "Trust no one." He nodded slowly. Then Ethan was there, ushering me toward the car, promising to see me tomorrow, kissing my cheek like everything was normal. Everything was normal. Except my grandfather's eyes, hollow with fear. Except Ethan's smile, too bright, too quick. Except the key in my clutch, burning like a secret I hadn't yet learned to carry. … The private jet smelled like leather and money...cream seats, mahogany trim, a champagne bar already chilled. I settled across from Gregory Moore, who was pretending to read a report. The board had insisted one executive accompany me to the resort to discuss merger documents, and Gregory had volunteered. I suspected he wanted to keep an eye on me, to find something to use against me later. Marcia brought me a glass of water. Daniel, a passenger who'd mentioned during boarding that he was an aircraft mechanic, wandered toward the rear of the cabin, chatting with one of the crew. I stared out the window, watching the tarmac fall away. The key weighed heavy in my clutch. I wanted to examine it, to study the symbols, to understand why my grandfather had looked so terrified. But Gregory was watching me with his sharp, suspicious eyes, and I didn't trust him. Protect this. Trust no one. So I tucked the clutch beside me and stared at the clouds. My grandfather's note sat unread in the hidden pocket of my clutch. I'd almost forgotten it in the chaos of boarding. I reached for it now, my fingers brushing against the folded paper. Then the cabin lurched. I snatched my hand back, my heart slammed against my ribs. "What was that?" "Just turbulence," Gregory said, not looking up from his report. "Nothing to worry about." But the lights flickered. And the plane dropped. "Everyone stay in your seats!" I grabbed the intercom, my voice was too sharp, too high. "This is Clara Ashford. I need everyone to remain calm. We're going to be fine." We weren't going to be fine. I knew that. The plane dropped again. Champagne bottles shattered. Overhead bins burst open. Marcia screamed. Daniel shouted something from the back. I unbuckled and stumbled toward the cockpit, grabbing the doorframe to steady myself. Through the gap, I saw Captain Reynolds fighting the controls, his face was grey with strain. "Captain..." "Get back to your seat!" He didn't look at me. "I can't...something's wrong..." "What's wrong?" "I don't know." His voice cracked. "The emergency systems...someone disabled them. I can't control..." The plane lurched again, throwing me against the wall. I heard something snap in my shoulder, felt a flash of white-hot pain. Through the window, I saw the ocean rushing toward us. And something else. Something enormous moving beneath the waves. It wasn't following the wreckage. It was waiting. "Brace!" Captain Reynolds's voice crackled over the speakers. "Brace for impact!" One thought before the world ended. It was never a celebration. It was an execution. The ocean rushed toward me. And everything went black.