117 — Zander POV
"Have you lost your mind?!"
The words slam into the room the second I close the door behind me. My grandfather is already standing behind his antique desk, hands braced on the polished wood, his expression thunderous. The veins in his neck strain, and his voice—usually so cold, so controlled—is booming now, livid.
I keep walking.
"You bring that omega into my house," he snarls, "cause a spectacle in front of the entire family, allow him to speak back—threaten—and then parade out like some victorious child with a prize on your shoulder? Have you gone completely insane?"
I've never seen Grandfather so angry.
His face is flushed a deep, furious red, a vein pulsing near his temple like it's seconds from bursting. His voice—usually cold and composed—is trembling with rage, loud enough to shake the windowpanes. The ever-imposing, stone-faced patriarch of the Vale family looks like he might combust on the spot.
And honestly?
I don't mind at all.
"It's not my fault you said something that caused him to react like that." I shrug, like we're discussing the weather. Calm, collected—on the surface. Beneath it? Boiling.
"It's what happens when you have people who care for you," I add, tone razor-sharp.
"They get angry on your behalf. You wouldn't know anything about that though, would you?"
He slams his palm down on the desk with enough force to rattle the antique paperweight near his wrist.
"I expected you to have control over the creature you've let crawl into your bed!"
My eyes flash.
"You will not speak of my fiancé that way."
His mouth twists, lips curling into that haughty sneer I've known since childhood.
"You have a fiancé? The daughter of the Browns—that is your fiancé. A proper beta, with an Ivy League education and a pedigree that commands respect. Not some lowborn omega entertainer." He exhales like I've personally offended his legacy.
"Seize this nonsense now, Zander. Before you embarrass yourself and this family any further."
"Unfortunately," I say, stepping closer, "if she's so special—you can marry her yourself. I'm happy with my current relationship."
"You dare to defy me?"
His voice is a slow, dangerous growl now.
I walk forward—unhurried. Controlled. I meet his stare with full force as I bring my hand down hard on the desk, the sound loud and final like a gunshot.
He flinches.
"The only reason I've ever tolerated your manipulative bullshit," I say, my voice low and deliberate, "was because you dangled my bearer's life over my head like a damn leash."
I lean closer, my gaze locked on his. No fear. No hesitation.
"It's been ten years. You haven't found him. You never will."
His jaw clenches, ofcourse he hasn't my father is safe, the threat he's had is no longer active, I don't let him speak.
"If you ever touch a single hair on Ivan's head… if I so much as suspect you've moved a finger to hurt him—" I pause, breathing hard.
"I swear to the gods, I will burn Vale to the fucking ground. Every business. Every property. Every legacy."
His nostrils flare. His mouth parts like he might bark back, but I cut him off.
"You'll watch your life's work—your ancestors' empire—turn to ash. And it will be your fault."
I push off the desk slowly, standing tall.
"Don't try me, Grandfather. I'm not your son. I won't bow. I won't run and cower. And I sure as hell won't spiral and kill myself when it gets too hard."
His face twitches—just for a second. A crack in the perfect mask. He knows what I'm referring to. My alpha father. His failure and the reason I've stuck in this god forsaken family.
"No," I whisper, voice cool and final. "If it comes to it, I won't fall. I'll drag you down with me."
A long, brittle silence follows.
The weight of my threat hangs between us, thick and poisonous.