Series: Werewolves of Wall Street Series by Renee Rose
Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73722 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73722 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
The dogs belong to Dane, but they’re as much mine as his. They recognize me as their alpha.
Keeping dogs isn’t as common for us as it is for humans. Many shifters object to it, I suspect because they don’t like to see parts of themselves reflected in a pet. Those shifters who do keep canines, though, have a tight bond with their pets as they can communicate, lead and guide them in ways humans never could.
I’m not the sort who would keep pets of my own. I don’t need more creatures around me to be responsible for or to care about, but it’s hard not to fully receive the unchecked affection of dogs.
“Hey Bella, hey Fritz. Oh, Bobo, who’s a good boy?” I pet and thump the sides of the ecstatic dogs. “That’s right. Your alpha’s back early this week. Come on. Let’s go in.”
I don’t have a bag, since this trip was unplanned, but I have casual clothes here, and I can change tomorrow morning before I go into Wall Street.
I needed to get out of the city. My wolf behaves himself in the boardroom, but it’s cruel to lock up a wild animal for long. So I come home to run.
But first: business. I fire off a few more emails and check in with Vance’s team, walking the long halls of my ancestral home. My pacing takes me to the library. I stalk the book-lined rows until I reach the heavy oak door that leads to my father’s study.
His books and papers still lie in neat rows, as he left them the night he died. The night he was poisoned. There’s not a speck of dust–Liz won’t allow it–but the air is close and stuffy as an antique shop’s, preserved over the years. Under the scent of furniture polish, there’s a trace of his scent.
Above his desk, my father glares out of his portrait. It’s larger than life, covering most of the wall, but still doesn’t capture the intense presence of Bruce Blackthroat. The artist painted him standing in this room, with one large, weather-worn hand gripping the leather chair. There’s a surly slant to his dark brows, a tension to his jaw that his close clipped beard cannot soften. He looks like he’s going to bark an order in his Alpha voice and send humans scurrying and shifters angling their necks or bending their knees.
Ruby says I’m the spitting image of him. I didn’t think so, but as I stare into his dark eyes, I see it. The weight of power painted into the lines of his face. The knowledge that every decision you make takes your pack, your family, closer to the pinnacle, and the higher you go, the farther you can fall.
My father taught me the most important lesson an alpha can learn. In the shifter world, dominance is everything. It’s more than dog eat dog. We’re wolves. Defeat is death.
When he died, we almost lost everything. I fought tooth and claw for every scrap of success. Fought to keep every investor who said I was too young, and fled into the arms of our enemy. Odin Adalwulf–the Alpha–and his son, Aiden, almost took everything from us. They assaulted our castle and tore down the outer walls, leaving ruin in their wake. They overran Blackthroat Investments and burned it to the ground.
But from those ashes we rose. And now, on the eve of a massive acquisition, we’ve proven ourselves. We’re the biggest and baddest around, and nothing–not the Adalwulfs, not anyone–can take us down.
“We’re almost there,” I tell him. My own voice is so low and guttural, it startles me. My wolf is in my throat, his savagery ringing out of me.
Ruby’s right. I do sound exactly like him.
My phone rings, jarring the settled air of my father’s study. I leave and close the door behind me before checking who’s calling. My wolf wants to toss my phone aside and head out to hunt, but it’s Eagle, and he knows my Berkshire runs are sacred. He wouldn't call if it wasn’t important.
“I have bad news and good news.” Eagle eschews any greeting.
“Give it to me,” I growl.
“Bad news first: Nickel’s team uncovered more details of the opposing deal.”
I grip the phone tighter. “Is Adalwulf behind it?”
“Confirmed. Aiden met Benson Junior at a party in Cabo.”
“Met? More like ambushed.” It would be no coincidence Aiden Adalwulf would be at the same party as Benson Junior. Aiden can pretend to be a playboy billionaire, but his idea of fun is hunting other shifters for sport.
“Yes. Aiden must have sweet talked Junior there, promising him the moon.”
“Then we promise him the sun and stars. And a Moon Co. stake.”
“Nickel’s already on it.”
“What's the good news?”
“You’re never going to believe this.” There’s a smile in Eagle’s voice. “There’s a five hundred acre parcel in the Adirondacks. It abuts Adalwulf land, and in two day’s time, it’s coming up for sale.”