Chapter 13
Calhoun’s POV
The next morning, I stepped out of the car with Carmela beside me. My shoes had barely touched the company’s grounds when I noticed Tristan and a swarm of assistants waiting, their faces pale, their eyes wide. Panic clung to each of their faces. The sight of it made my chest tighten with unease, a sharp skip in my heartbeat before anger swallowed it whole.
Tristan was the first to approach, clutching a fat, swollen file in his arms. “Thank goodness you’re back, Calhoun,” he said quickly, voice strained. “Here are several Pack reports you haven’t gotten back to. The land disputes, profit gains, agreements we should’ve sealed days ago—”
His words grated on me. My eyes dropped to the thick file he was hugging like a lifeline. My jaw clenched, my teeth grinding together.
One by one, the others began to speak over each other.
“Alpha, the Western Pack is threatening to pull their investments—”
“The landowners are demanding settlement or they’ll take it to the Council—”
“The company’s logistics department reports massive delays—”
“The contractors are refusing to move forward without your approval—”
Each of their voices clawed at my skull, nothing but a pure barrage of whining, panic, and uselessness.
I didn’t respond. Not even a word. I walked through them like they were air, ignoring every frantic face, every trembling plea, every file they tried to shove into my hands. My silence was way heavier than my anger.
By the time I entered my office, the air was buzzing with tension. Carmela glided in first, perching herself on the chair beside mine. The others filed in behind me, laying their stacks of files onto my desk like offerings to a god they feared but didn’t understand.