I laughed despite myself, the sound watery with unshed tears. "He said that?" My hand found Remy's, our fingers intertwining, and I marveled at how natural it felt—how right.
"Word for word." Remy's dimples deepened, his thumb tracing circles on my knuckles, his touch grounding me. "And he meant what he said before—he wants to meet you. All of you. Once this is settled and things calm down a bit." He glanced at Harper and Silas, something hopeful and hesitant in his expression, his usual bravado stripped away to reveal the nervous boy underneath. "I know I mentioned it before, but now that we've actually won... my maman will want to feed everyone. And my père—" His voice caught slightly, emotion roughening the words. "He said he wants to meet the people who brought his son back to life. His words, not mine."
Harper was the first to respond, reaching out to grip Remy's shoulder with a firm, reassuring hand. His dark eyes were steady, certain, radiating the quiet strength that had anchored me through so many storms. "We already said yes, remember? Of course we're going. Your family helped save Artemis's home. That makes them our family too."
"Pack means family." Silas stepped closer, his pale gaze softening in a way few people ever got to see, the hard edges of his scarred face gentling with something that looked almost tender. "All of it. Even the complicated parts. Especially those."
Remy's smile wobbled, just for a moment, before he got it under control. His amber eyes glistened, and he had to look away toward the window before he could speak again. "I know we talked about it, but I wasn't sure if—after everything—" He took a shaky breath, his voice rougher than usual. "Merci. For not letting me run from this."
I reached up to cup his face in my hands, pulling him down for a soft kiss that I hoped said everything I couldn't find words for. When I pulled back, his eyes were suspiciously bright.
"Later," I murmured against his lips. "We'll talk about all of this later. Right now, we have a corporation to destroy."
"Technically, we're just negotiating a settlement." Delphine's voice was dry, but her eyes were warm as she watched us. "But I appreciate the energy."
The door opened again, and all warmth drained from the room like water from a broken levee.
Richard Hartley walked in first, looking significantly worse for wear than he had on my porch two days ago. His suit was immaculate—a different one, probably, since I doubted he'd ever wear the other one again—but there were dark circles under his eyes and a nervous tic in his jaw that hadn't been there before. He was flanked by two lawyers in matching gray suits, both of them carrying briefcases and wearing expressions of barely concealed defeat.
Behind them came a woman I didn't recognize—older, silver-haired, with the kind of cold beauty that spoke of expensive treatments and careful maintenance. She wore a cream-colored suit that probably cost more than my truck and moved with the casual arrogance of someone who had never been told no in her life.
"Ms. Devereaux." Her voice was smooth as honey poured over broken glass. "I'm Victoria Lynx, Chief Legal Counsel for Crescent Holdings. I believe we have some matters to discuss."
"That's one way to put it." I kept my voice steady, channeling every ounce of steel my grandmother had ever taught me. "Another way would be that your company harassed me, threatened me, and tried to steal my land through fraud and intimidation. But sure. Let's call it 'matters to discuss.'"
Victoria Lynx's perfectly painted lips thinned, but she didn't rise to the bait. She took a seat at the conference table, her lawyers flanking her like matching bookends, and Hartley slunk into a chair at the far end, looking like he wished he could disappear into the upholstery.
"Shall we begin?" Delphine's voice was bright and sharp as a new blade. She took her seat across from Victoria, and I settled in beside her, my three Alphas arrayed behind me like a wall of muscle and barely contained menace.
The negotiations began.
They went almost exactly as Delphine had predicted. Victoria Lynx opened with a settlement offer that was insulting in its inadequacy—barely enough to cover my legal fees, with a confidentiality clause that would have prevented me from ever speaking about what Crescent Holdings had done. Delphine countered by sliding the folder of financial records across the table and watching the color drain from Victoria's face as she flipped through the pages.
"These documents detail seventeen separate instances of fraud, bribery, and environmental violation." Delphine's voice was conversational, almost pleasant. "Any one of them would be enough to trigger a federal investigation. All of them together?" She smiled, and it was not a nice smile. "Well. I'm sure I don't need to spell out what that would mean for Crescent Holdings' stock price. Or for the personal liability of certain executives."
Her eyes flicked to Hartley, who had gone the color of old cottage cheese.
"This is blackmail." Victoria's voice was tight with barely controlled fury, two spots of color burning high on her elegant cheekbones.
"This is leverage." Delphine didn't miss a beat, her honeyed drawl never wavering, utterly unruffled by the accusation. "There's a difference. Blackmail would be if we were demandingmoney to keep quiet. We're not. We're demanding fair compensation for my client, a formal apology, and a legally binding agreement that Crescent Holdings will never again attempt to acquire property in this parish through fraudulent means." She leaned back in her chair, utterly at ease, one perfectly manicured hand resting on the damning folder. "Honestly, Ms. Lynx, I think we're being quite reasonable. Given the circumstances."
The back-and-forth continued for nearly two hours. Victoria tried every trick in the book—legal loopholes, veiled threats, appeals to practicality. Delphine shut down each one with surgical precision, wielding the folder of evidence like a weapon. Every time the Crescent Holdings lawyers thought they'd found an angle, she produced another document, another witness statement, another piece of damning proof.
By the time they finally broke for a recess, Victoria Lynx looked like she'd aged ten years and Richard Hartley had stopped speaking entirely, his eyes fixed on the table in front of him like he could will himself out of existence.
"They're going to cave." Harper's voice was low in my ear as we stepped into the hallway, his hand warm and reassuring on my back, his thumb tracing slow circles against my spine. "You can see it in their faces. They know they're beaten."
"Couldn't have happened to nicer people." I leaned into him, letting his solid presence steady me, breathing in cedar and comfort. "Is it wrong that I'm enjoying this? Watching them squirm?"
"After everything they put you through?" Silas materialized at my other side, close enough that I could feel the heat of his body, his shoulder brushing mine. His pale eyes held a glint of dark satisfaction. "No. It's not wrong at all."
"Schadenfreude, cher." Remy's grin was bright as sunshine as he joined us, pressing a kiss to my temple, his golden curls tickling my cheek. "It's a time-honored tradition. Embrace it."
The recess lasted twenty minutes. When we reconvened, Victoria’s expression had shifted from fury to something closer to resignation. She slid a document across the table to Delphine, her movements stiff and controlled.
"Our revised offer." Her voice was flat, empty of its earlier arrogance, her perfectly manicured fingers sliding the document across the polished wood. "I believe you'll find it more than fair."
Delphine read through it slowly, her face giving nothing away. When she finished, she passed it to me without comment.
