Chapter 49: The Summit

The summit hall was a cathedral of glass and steel, suspended above the city like a frozen waterfall. Elena stood at the floor-to-ceiling window, watching the last of the attending alphas file into the chamber. Their scents—cedar, smoke, old blood—mingled with the sharp tang of ozone from the coming storm. Damon moved beside her, his presence a wall of heat and tension. "Twelve packs. Enough to tip the balance if Viktor's allies don't show." "They'll show," Elena said, her voice flat. "He's too arrogant to miss the chance to watch his enemies kneel." She touched the evidence drive in her pocket—a slim rectangle of metal that held Viktor's crimes: forced mate sales, pack territory theft, the murder of three lesser alphas who'd refused to bow. One broadcast, and his empire would crack. But that was the backup plan. The real weapon stood at the center of the hall: a holographic display showing the alliance charter, waiting for signatures. Damon's name was first. The others would follow—if they lived long enough. Kael slipped through the side door, his face unreadable. "Viktor's convoy is five minutes out. He's brought fifty wolves, armed. The building's perimeter is secure, but the glass..." He glanced at the windows. "It's a kill box." "Then we don't let him get close," Damon said. He turned to Elena. "You know what to do." She nodded. The plan was simple: Damon would greet Viktor, stall him with diplomatic niceties while Elena slipped into the security room and triggered the broadcast. The attending alphas would see the evidence, turn on Viktor, and the alliance would be sealed in blood. Nothing ever went that smoothly. Viktor arrived with the subtlety of a bomb. His wolves flanked him in a wedge formation, their eyes scanning the hall with predatory precision. Viktor himself was smaller than his reputation suggested—lean, silver-haired, with a smile that didn't reach his cold eyes. He wore a tailored suit that cost more than Elena's entire wardrobe, but the wolf beneath it was ancient and hungry. "Alpha Blackwood," Viktor said, his voice carrying across the hall. "I see you've brought your... pet." His gaze slid to Elena, and she felt the weight of his attention—a predator sizing up prey. She didn't flinch. "Elena is my mate," Damon said, his tone leaving no room for debate. "And she's here as my equal." Viktor's smile thinned. "How quaint. But we're not here for sentiment. We're here to discuss territory—your territory, specifically. The Crimson Fang has claims on the northern sectors, and I'm prepared to offer fair compensation." "The northern sectors are not for sale," Damon said. "Everything is for sale." Viktor stepped closer, his wolves spreading to encircle the hall. "Including loyalty." The air shifted. Elena felt it—the subtle tension of wolves preparing to strike. Damon's palm brushed hers, a signal. She began to edge toward the security door. Viktor's eyes tracked her. "Leaving so soon? I thought you'd want to hear this." He snapped his fingers, and two of his wolves dragged a figure from the corridor beyond. Elena's lungs stalled. The woman was young, dark-haired, with Elena's own sharp cheekbones and terrified eyes. Her half-sister, Mira—the one her father had declared dead five years ago. "I found her hiding in the Vance estate," Viktor said, almost lazily. "Seems your father wasn't entirely honest about his lineage." Mira's gaze met Elena's, pleading. "Don't let him take me back. Please." Elena's blood turned to ice. Marcus had sold Mira too, then lied about it. But there was no time for rage—Viktor's wolves were already moving, their claws extending as they closed ranks. Damon roared, a sound that shook the glass. "Now!" The hall erupted. Elena didn't think. She ran, not toward the security room but toward Mira. A wolf lunged, and she sidestepped, driving her elbow into his throat. He crumpled, and she grabbed Mira's arm, pulling her behind a marble pillar. "Stay here," Elena said, her voice hard. "Don't move." She turned. Damon was surrounded, three wolves circling him while Viktor watched from the dais. The attending alphas had scattered, some drawing weapons, others frozen in shock. The holographic display flickered, showing the shattered alliance. Elena pulled the evidence drive from her pocket. The security room was too far. She could see the console through the glass wall—fifteen feet away, across open ground. Viktor's wolves were between her and it. She didn't hesitate. She sprinted, weaving between pillars, sliding across the polished floor as claws raked the air behind her. Her shoulder slammed into the security door, and she was inside, fingers flying across the console. The screen blinked. "Uploading evidence to all pack networks. Estimated time: thirty seconds." Thirty seconds was an eternity. Outside, Damon took a claw to the ribs, blood darkening his shirt. He didn't stop. He fought like a wolf possessed, his movements brutal and precise, but Viktor's wolves were fresh, and they kept coming. Elena watched the progress bar. Fifteen seconds. Ten. Viktor's voice cut through the chaos. "Kill the girl." Two wolves turned toward the pillar where Mira hid. Elena's heart stopped. The console beeped—upload complete. But she was already moving, vaulting over the console, grabbing a fallen wolf's blade from the floor. She hit the ground running, closing the distance in seconds. The first wolf reached Mira's pillar. Elena drove the blade into his kidney, twisted, pulled. He fell, and she faced the second wolf, blood dripping from her hand. "Come on," she said. He came. She met him with a low strike, a feint, then a slash across his throat. He dropped, gurgling. Silence fell. The holographic display flickered, then showed Viktor's face—but not his current one. A recording of him signing a mate sale contract, exchanging a young woman for territory rights. The attending alphas stared, their shock shifting to fury. "You lied to us," one alpha growled. "You said the Crimson Fang was legitimate." Viktor's composure cracked. "That's a fabrication—" "It's your signature," Damon said, his voice carrying. "And there's more. The murder of Alpha Torin. The forced dissolution of the Silver Lake Pack. The deal with Marcus Vance to sell his daughters." Elena stepped forward, Mira pressed against her back. "My father sold me. And he sold Mira. Viktor bought us. He's been building an army of forced mates, using their bloodlines to strengthen his pack." The alphas exchanged glances. One by one, they turned their backs on Viktor. Viktor's wolves hesitated. They'd come expecting a massacre, not a trial. Their loyalty wavered. Damon moved, his voice low and deadly. "You have one chance. Surrender, and I'll let you live in a cage." Viktor laughed. It was a cold, hollow sound. "You think this is over? The one who ordered your father's death, Elena—the one who really controls the Crimson Fang—is still out there. And they're closer than you think." A cold hollow opened beneath Elena's ribs. "What are you saying?" "Your father's murder," Viktor said, his eyes gleaming. "It wasn't me. It wasn't Marcus. It was someone in your own pack, Elena. Someone who's been waiting for this moment." He laughed again, and then his wolves closed around him, shielding him as they retreated. Damon moved to pursue, but Elena grabbed his arm. "Let him go. We have the evidence. We have the alliance. And now we know there's a traitor." A muscle jumped in Damon's cheek, but he nodded. The attending alphas gathered around, their voices a low murmur of questions and demands. Elena barely heard them. Her mind was racing. Someone in her own pack. Someone who'd been there all along. She looked at Mira, who was trembling, her eyes wide. "Who else knows you're alive?" Mira shook her head. "No one. I've been in hiding. Viktor found me three days ago." Three days. That meant someone had told him. Elena's gaze swept the hall, searching for a familiar face. Kael was tending to Damon's wound. The alphas were arguing. And somewhere in the shadows, the real enemy was watching.