Chapter 96
The entire penthouse foyer watched in absolute, paralyzed shock as the woman screamed at the Pack Alpha.
The domestic staff, Christian’s advisors, and his elite enforcers were completely stunned by her sheer audacity.
In this territory, no one had ever dared to address the supreme leader with such blatant disrespect and lived to tell the tale. Yet, Christian’s aura didn’t even flare with anger. The pack members exchanged bewildered glances; they all secretly concluded that this woman must possess an unimaginable power over their Alpha to command such submission from his wolf.
When Fleur stormed out, slamming the heavy doors behind her, Christian stood frozen in the center of the room. A profound ache fractured his chest as he realized what lengths she would go to for Raphael Dumas. She had jumped to the worst possible conclusion, instantly branding him a kidnapper. She didn’t trust him—not a single fraction of an inch.
“Lucas!” Christian called out, his deep voice slicing through the stunned silence of the foyer.
“Yes, Alpha,” Lucas hurriedly stepped forward from the shadows, bowing his head as he waited for the command.
“I want every shred of information regarding Raphael Dumas within the hour. Locate his coordinates, and if an enemy pack has taken him, find out who authorized it. Is that clear?” the Alpha ordered curtly.
“Understood, Alpha. I’ll return with answers immediately,” Lucas replied, turning on his heel and vanishing out the door.
Though Christian personally despised the movie star, he couldn’t endure the hatred he had seen burning in Fleur’s eyes. It cut his wolf to the core that she viewed him as a heartless monster. He had wanted to rip Raphael apart countless times out of pure primal jealousy, but he never imagined a day would come where he desperately needed the male alive—if only to prove to his mate that he wasn’t the ruthless savage she believed him to be.
He drove to the pack headquarters, but his mind refused to focus on territorial logistics. He waited restlessly, counting the minutes until his Beta’s return. True to his word, Lucas walked into the executive office exactly one hour later, carrying a tablet with the tracking data needed to locate the actor.
“He has been off the grid for more than twenty-four hours, and the human authorities are combing the city,” Lucas reported, tapping the screen. “But here is the strange part: no ransom demand has been broadcast or delivered to his relatives or agency p>
“Quiet,” Christian murmured, his eyes narrowing as he fell deep into thought. “Who takes a high-profile target and demands no payment? They could extort a fortune for his return. The human is worth billions, and his studio executives would drain their reserves to secure his safety p>
Christian paced behind his desk, his predatory instincts putting the puzzle together. “This means one of two things: either Dumas orchestrated his own disappearance to escape, or someone with a blood feud took him purely for retribution p>
“Which means he is likely already dead, or breathing his last,” Lucas concluded grimly.
“Shut up, Lucas. He cannot die. I need him breathing,” Christian gritted out, his amber eyes flashing with warning. “Did you pin down the extraction team p>
“I squeezed a few underworld informants and traced the contract to a mercenary crew. I managed to intercept the tracker who performed the actual snatch,” Lucas informed him.
Christian’s posture locked. “Where is he p>
“Right outside,” Lucas replied, pressing a button on his console.
Moments later, the heavy oak doors swung open, and two burly enforcers escorted a tall figure into the room. The prisoner wore a black tactical shirt and dark cargo pants, his skin deathly pale as his eyes darted frantically around the Alpha’s office. He was a skilled human mercenary, built broad and heavy, but in the presence of a dominant werewolf Alpha, he was shivering like a leaf in a winter storm.
“State your name,” Christian commanded, his voice vibrating with a wolf’s authority that forced the man to his knees.
“Josh… Mr. Wayne,” the mercenary choked out quickly, his voice cracking as he recognized the lethal predator looming over him. “I swear… if I had any idea the actor was tied to your pack, I never would have taken the contract p>
“Raphael Dumas is nothing to me, but I require him alive,” Christian said coldly, stepping closer. “Where did you deliver him p>
“I can take you directly to the drop point,” Josh stammered, his eyes wide with terror as he begged for a shred of clemency.
“Good.” Christian grabbed his leather jacket from his chair in one fluid motion. “Move p>
Lucas grabbed Josh by the collar, hauling him up as they hurried to the armored SUVs waiting in the courtyard.
They tore away from the city center, leaving the towering skyscrapers behind as they entered the decaying, overgrown industrial sectors. Soon, they pulled up to the edge of a dense thicket of trees, standing before a dilapidated, boarded-up house that looked entirely abandoned.
“This is it. This is where the buyers told me to leave him,” Josh whispered, his hands shaking as he pointed toward the crumbling structure.
Christian’s eyes narrowed to slits as he scanned the perimeter, his sharp nose picking up the scent of rot, damp earth, and… faint human blood. The air was dead silent, save for the rustle of dry leaves.
Lucas and Christian exchanged a sharp look, their silent communication perfectly synchronized. The Alpha’s jaw clenched, his wolf pushing to the surface as his eyes shifted to a piercing amber.
“Lead,” Christian commanded smoothly.
Josh hesitated for a fraction of a second before nodding frantically, guiding them toward the rusted front door. He knocked a specific, rhythmic sequence against the wood—three heavy thuds. Christian silently drew his suppressed weapon from his holster, shifting his weight. Lucas followed a half-step behind, his own firearm raised and alert.
The door groaned open, spilling a wave of musty, foul air into the twilight. A large, unkempt guard poked his head out, squinting at Josh in confusion. “Why are you back p>
“Forgot my gear,” Josh lied.
Before the guard’s instincts could warn him, Christian moved with lethal, supernatural speed. He shoved Josh aside and fired a single, precise shot. The guard dropped instantly, crashing to the floor without a sound.
They barged across the threshold, braced for a swarm of hostiles, but to Christian’s irritation, the perimeter was entirely unguarded. The captors had evidently assumed no one would ever locate this forgotten corner of the border. Christian’s sweeping gaze cut through the shadows of the damp, decaying room, finally locking onto a slumped figure bound to a wooden chair in the center of the space.
It was Raphael. He was covered in deep lacerations, his shirt soaked in crimson, barely clinging to consciousness in the dark.