Vincent's POV
Over a week has already passed, and our relationship is just where I want it to be—defined by boundaries I've set. She might not like them, but she hasn't tried to push past them either.
Ella doesn't force her way into anyone's life, least of all mine.
And ever since she realized that my intentions weren't the kind most women dream about, she has gone along with it.
There's a stubborn pride about her. I don't know if I should call it ego, or if it's simply self-respect—something most women I've dealt with don't seem to possess. They've always been too eager to please, too willing to bend. Ella, on the other hand, knows how to keep her distance. She doesn't beg for my attention.
The company takes up little of my time. I'm not often there, though the revenue it brings in annually is more than respectable. But I didn't start it for the profit. I built it as a cover, a neat façade the world could admire while I conducted the things that truly matter—the dealings that actually built my empire.
It's a tech firm, clean and modern, entrusted by corporations and governments alike. To outsiders, it's innovation and reliability. To me, it's a door. A way to funnel money, connections, and data into my other ventures—the kind that could never survive under the light of legality.
~~~
This week has been socially exhausting. I've had to interact with more people than I care to tolerate—smiling, shaking hands, making promises I have no intention of keeping. It's campaign season, and I'm backing a candidate running for the senatorial seat. The man has potential, but potential doesn't win elections—money does. That's where I come in.
Most politicians are puppets anyway, strung along by whoever holds the purse. He'll be no different. When he wins, his loyalty won't be to the people—it'll be to me. And that's the way it should be. My businesses run smoother when I have someone in power to grease the wheels, someone who can look the other way when loopholes need to be created, or laws need to bend.
Still, enduring those endless dinners and backroom meetings with people I barely tolerate has worn me thin. I hate small talk, I hate pretending I care about their ambitions, and most of all, I hate wasting time with anyone who doesn't serve a purpose.
And now, as if that isn't enough, I have another gathering to attend—this one at Ella's family home. Another group of people I have no desire to entertain. It will be another performance, another act of politeness when what I'd rather kill a number of them for personal reasons.
Through this gathering, I might finally uncover the things I've been trying to piece together. It'll take some careful snooping, but I'll do whatever needs to be done.
After wrapping up the company's monthly meeting, I make my way to the Council Den—the sacred chamber where the elders of the Obsidian Fang Pack hold their discussions. There are matters that can't be delayed, decisions that must be addressed with the weight of the pack's survival in mind.
The moment I step into the hall, Edgar's voice greets me, sharp as ever.
"What took you so long, boy?"
I hate the way he says it, like I'm still a reckless pup in need of guidance. I'm a grown man—a leader in my own right. Still, I bite back the irritation.
"I had business to settle at the company," I reply coolly, letting my tone dismiss the question before it lingers any longer.
Edgar narrows his eyes, gaze slipping past me as though he's searching for someone lingering in the shadows.
"You didn't bring the Luna with you?"
I smirk faintly, meeting his scrutiny head-on.
"I would have," I say smoothly, "but I didn't think you old men were ready to be distracted by her presence."
The remark lands exactly as I intended—light enough to make them chuckle, sharp enough to shut down further questioning.
But inside, my thoughts are less amused. I don't know how long this charade will last before they begin to suspect the truth—that Ella and I are nothing but a performance, that I haven't even marked her as mine. She's not my mate.
The urgent council meeting is centered on a crime that never should have happened. One of our pack members—Jared—slaughtered his own mate. And not for betrayal, not for treachery… but because she broke some expensive vase.
Pathetic.
Yes, I've killed. I won't pretend otherwise. But the lives I take are not innocent ones. I don't waste blood on petty rage or foolish impulses. I don't kill just because my pride is bruised.
Jared, though, has been spiraling for months. Gambling away every coin he had, chasing losses in seedy casinos, numbing his failures with whatever drugs he could get his hands on. His debts piled up until he was barely more than a cornered animal.
Now, the only ones left to bear the weight of his failure are his mate—dead at his hands—and their cub. Just eleven years old. Too young to be scarred like this, too young to be left adrift.
I feel the faintest crack of something in my chest for the cub. None of this was his fault. When Jared is punished, and he will be, we'll decide what becomes of the boy. His future won't be easy, but at least it won't be poisoned by the shadow of his father.
When such crimes are committed within the pack, simple punishments like being banished doesnt work. That would almost be mercy. He'll pay for what he's done for the rest of his life. When the drugs finally burn out of his system and he sobers up in our prison, he'll have nothing but the silence of his own thoughts and the memory of what he did to keep him company. That is—if someone doesn't slit his throat in there first.
Life sentence? Not even on the table. The council was unanimous for once, every elder agreeing that he doesn't deserve the freedom to walk our lands again.
As for the boy—Paul—my Beta stepped forward before I even had to ask. He offered to take the cub in, said he'd raise him alongside his own children. It's the best outcome we could hope for, and maybe it'll soften the sharp edges of the boy's grief.
Still, I can't shake the thought. Children don't forget. No matter how much time passes, no matter how much care he receives, Paul will grow up carrying the knowledge that his father murdered his mother. That truth will gnaw at him, shaping him in ways none of us can predict.
I only hope it doesn't turn him into a wolf like the one we just condemned.