Throne of Blood

The meeting room on the top floor of the headquarters was cold — marble and glass — with a panoramic view of the city the clan silently controlled. The board members were already seated, among them Kael, his expression unreadable. Rhaek sat at the head of the table, the Alpha, the one with the final word. Once again, a confrontation was brewing — and the lady was dressed to kill.

The door opened.

Narelle entered with steady steps, her hair pulled into a bun that left her nape exposed, a blazer draped over her shoulders, and a blouse cut just low enough to reveal the curve of one delicate breast.

She didn’t ask permission. She simply took her seat at the table — as if it had always belonged to her.

A heavy silence fell.

Rhaek clenched his jaw.

“Gentlemen,” she said, not even glancing at him, “thank you for making room for this emergency presentation. I’m here to propose a restructuring of the technological expansion and international marketing sector. Our name needs to mean leadership again.”

She slid a flash drive across the table. Kael picked it up and plugged it into the panel. The screen lit up with graphs and precise projections. The room was now illuminated only by the digital glow and the sharp presence of the woman before them.

As she spoke, her eyes met his — just for a second.

“You’ve underestimated the female market, especially young alpha entrepreneurs. There’s na empire to be claimed. And I know how.”

Rhaek could barely hear. Her mouth was moving, but everything in him boiled. Her voice was the same tone she used to moan under him, but now it was sharp — like a blade wielded by someone who had come back to win. Her scent no longer carried fear. It carried victory.

His wife, seated two chairs over, frowned. She recognized something in that woman — but didn’t know what yet.

“You speak as if you were one of us,” she said coldly.

Narelle smiled, without even turning her face. Was it sarcasm about her corporate status or a reference to her being a she-wolf?

“I am one of you. I just didn’t need anyone’s last name to earn my seat at this table.”

The sentence sliced like a blade.

Rhaek slammed his palm on the table. The sound was too sharp to be casual. The tension broke for a second.

“Continue,” he said, voice hoarse, eyes locked on her.

She went on. But the data no longer mattered. Something else was unfolding in that room: a silent duel — ancient, burning. And everyone noticed.

At the end of the presentation, the applause came, hesitant but inevitable. Narelle’s plan was bold, strategically flawless — and, above all, profitable.

Rhaek kept his chin up, but his eyes never left her. There was something almost primal in that fixation. Like a wolf scenting both danger and desire.

She gathered her papers with feline precision. When she leaned slightly over the table to retrieve a forgotten pen, the cut of her dress revealed the smooth line of her thigh. Rhaek looked away with a restrained growl.

His wife noticed.

“You look... enchanted,” she whispered in her husband’s ear, with a smile too thin to be sweet.

“I’m surprised. That’s all,” he answered harshly.

Narelle crossed the room toward the exit. As she passed Kael, she brushed his shoulder lightly with her fingers — a seed cast to the wind. The gesture was brief but seen. And enough to make Rhaek’s stomach twist.

Kael, as always, masked it with a corner smile. But his eyes sparkled. It was impossible not to be affected by Narelle. She exuded power, beauty — and something more... a velvet-wrapped threat.

She turned before leaving and looked directly at Rhaek.

“Thank you for the opportunity, Alpha.”

The way she said Alpha made his blood rise. It wasn’t respect. It was memory. A challenge. A call only the two of them could hear.

After the door closed, na uneasy silence lingered in the room.

“She wants something,” hissed the wife, arms crossed. “And you’re about to give it to her.”

Rhaek stood, his eyes still on the closed door.

“She already had what she wanted once. Now... she wants more.”

Kael chuckled under his breath. “Or maybe she just wants to see you kneel, brother.”

Parking – Dusk

The sound of Narelle’s heels echoed through the underground parking lot like a metronomic reminder of her new place in the world. Each step was firm, deliberate — as if measuring the impact of her presence on the concrete... and on the fate of those who had once underestimated her.

In the tinted reflection of the black car waiting for her, she glimpsed her own face. She shrugged off the blazer. Kicked off her heels before getting in, tossing them aside with disdain. When the door shut, the world outside went silent.

“To the hotel. Executive wing,” she said in a low voice that left no room for negotiation.

The driver nodded. He didn’t dare look at her in the rearview mirror.

Narelle leaned back in the leather seat, eyes on the ceiling. For a few seconds, she let the mask slip. Breathed deeply. Her chest rose and fell almost imperceptibly — but her heart... her heart beat like a war drum. Not because of the reunion — but because of the precision with which she had won the first round.

She was no longer the submissive-eyed teenager who cried in silence in the dark wing of the pack’s compound. No longer the virgin she-wolf offered as a ritual gift.

Now she was the shadow behind the negotiation table. The mother of a forbidden child. And no one knew — yet.

Her phone vibrated. She glanced at the screen. A coded message.

“All according to plan. The board is already talking. Awaiting instructions for phase two.”

She deleted the notification without replying.

Not yet. Not now.

Elsewhere — Upper Wing of the Headquarters

Rhaek washed his face with cold water. Hands braced against the sink, head lowered. His breathing was erratic. The party sounds were gone. Only the echo of his shame and desire remained — laced with anger. His wife’s torn blouse was still on the bathroom floor.

He hated feeling weak. Vulnerable.

But that’s what Narelle did to him — from the very beginning.

Someone knocked on the door. He didn’t answer. The knock came again, firmer this time. Then Kael’s familiar voice cut through the wood:

“Is it locked because you’re hating yourself, brother? Or because you don’t want them to see the shame in your pants?”

Silence.

“Doesn’t matter. She’s back. And she didn’t come to play charity queen. She brought allies, capital — and a thirst for blood. If we don’t act fast, she’ll chew up this board and spit their bones on the meeting room carpet.”

The lock turned.

Rhaek opened the door, his face still damp, eyes feverish.

“She can’t own what’s ours.”

Kael smiled, sardonic.

“But she already does. And you gave her the perfect reason to keep going. Now, if you’ll excuse me...” He stepped into the office and closed the door. “...we need to know who she’s sleeping with. Literally. Because no one gets where she is with just lipstick and posture. There’s money behind this. And blood.”

Rhaek slammed a fist on the desk.

“She has a secret. I can feel it. Something she’s hiding.”

Kael stepped closer, voice low, venomous.

“Maybe her secret has more power over you than you want to admit.”

[...]

Kael was still holding the empty glass when she approached again, her steps slow, her perfume thick in the air like a warning. Narelle extended her hand and took the glass back, her fingers brushing his with calculated ease.

“You learn fast,” she said, not smiling — but her eyes burned.

He stared at her, more serious now, breathing deeply.

“And you’re more dangerous than any alpha I’ve ever known.”

“Because I don’t need to beat you with strength, Kael. I just need to make you want me,” she whispered, almost like a caress wrapped in words.

She turned and walked toward a mirrored wall at the back of the room. Ran her hand over a hidden panel. A soft click sounded, and a door slid open, revealing the executive private elevator — luxurious, with darkened mirrors, black marble flooring, and subtle lighting.

“You may go,” she said without looking back. “This elevator is for the intimate ones. Now you know.”