Claimed by the Steel Pack

The Executive Boardroom

Chapter 5: The Executive Boardroom

​The corporate headquarters of Vance Global Logistics felt entirely different by daylight. What had been a dark, shadowy cavern two nights ago was now a gleaming hive of high-stakes commerce. Men and women in five-thousand-dollar suits glided across polished marble floors, carrying tablet computers and espresso cups, completely oblivious to the supernatural shadow war funding their company's perimeter security.

​I walked half a step behind Kaelen as we crossed the floor toward Executive Conference Room A.

​I wore a sharp blazer and trouser, delivered to my suite at Blackwood Estate at dawn, and held a leather document folder tucked under my arm. The electric tension that pulsed between Kaelen and me hadn't faded. Every time his shoulder brushed mine, or his low voice instructed me where to stand, that strange, intoxicating heat flared along my skin.

​"Remember the brief," Kaelen murmured, leaning down slightly so his breath brushed my hair. "You are my chief forensic consultant. You speak only when I ask for figures. Look at their eyes, Calla. Watch who sweat when the offshore re-allocations are brought up."

​"I know how to read a room, Kaelen," I whispered back, adjusting my grip on the folder. "Just keep your eyes from turning gold in front of the board."

​A faint, dangerous smirk touched the corner of his lips. "If I lose control, sweetheart, you'll be the first to know."

​Before I could process the sudden fluttering in my stomach, Kaelen pushed open the heavy frosted glass doors.

​Eight senior executives sat around a massive oval table crafted from polished walnut. At the far end sat Victor Sterling, the chief financial officer, a silver-haired man with cold blue eyes and a posture as rigid as a steel beam. Beside him was Greta, dressed impeccably in a high-collared executive dress, acting as head of corporate compliance.

​The air in the boardroom was suffocatingly dense. The moment Kaelen entered, every executive straightened, their body language shifting into immediate submission.

​"Alpha...Mr. Vance," Victor corrected smoothly, clearing his throat as he gestured to the empty seat at the head of the table. "We weren't expecting a emergency audit review before the quarter close."

​"Circumstances require it, Victor," Kaelen said, slipping off his suit jacket and draping it over the back of his chair. He remained standing, towering over the table like an apex predator evaluating his territory. "Miss Vane has uncovered critical inconsistencies in our Q3 supply chain expenditure."

​All eyes snapped to me.

​Victor’s gaze narrowed, his eyes dropping to my leather folder. "Miss Vane? Arthur Vane’s daughter? Kaelen, bringing Arthur Vane’s blood back into this firm is a gross breach of protocol..."

​"Miss Vane cleared the eight-million-dollar discrepancy in under four hours," Kaelen cut in, his voice dropping into that deep, authoritative register that made the room temperature seem to drop five degrees. "Something our entire internal audit team failed to do for three years. She speaks with my authority."

​I stepped forward, laying out three printed financial ledgers across the center glass display.

​"The discrepancies aren't accounting errors, Mr. Sterling," I said, keeping my voice cool, steady, and sharp. "Over the past eighteen months, twelve million dollars allocated for maritime fuel surcharges were diverted through a third-party logistics firm in Bucharest. That firm doesn't exist. The funds were used to leak real-time manifest routes for our northern shipping lanes."

​Silence fell over the boardroom.

​I watched the faces around the table. Two junior directors looked bewildered. Greta kept her face entirely blank, her fingers tapping a slow, rhythmic pattern on her tablet.

​But Victor Sterling’s right hand twitched. His eyes flicked to the left corner of the room, toward the private elevator bank, before snapping back to Kaelen.

​"This is absurd," Victor said, his voice tightening. "Routing adjustments are standard for high-risk transit zones."

​"Not when those manifests match the exact coordinates where three of our security transports were ambushed last month," Kaelen said softly. He took two slow steps toward Victor, leaning his hands on the table. "Someone in this room signed off on those routing overrides using my secondary security clearance."

​Victor’s chest heaved. A bead of sweat broke near his hairline. "Kaelen, you can't possibly believe..."

​"I don't believe." Kaelen growled, his voice vibrating so deeply the water in the glass cups on the table rippled. "I know."

​Suddenly, the lights in the boardroom flickered violently and died, plunging the forty-second floor into shadow.