Page 6 of Fated By Fire

The elevator doors slide open, and I step into the stark, glass-walled boardroom. The view from here is just as impressive as my office—Seattle’s skyline stretched out like a shimmering map—but, again, I barely glance at it. The room is already half-full, the usual suspects milling about with their tablets and lattes.

Malakai Steele, the oldest and loudest of the clan elders, is holding court in the corner. He’s seen every Craven CEO since before my grandfather’s days, and he’s never let me forget it.

“…reckless leadership,” he’s saying, his voice carrying across the room. “Back in my day, we didn’t buy out our enemies. We burned them.”

A ripple of laughter follows, and I grit my teeth, shoving my temper down as I take my seat at the head of the table. Sloane slides a fresh cup of coffee in front of me, her expression impassive.

“All present,” she says, her voice cutting through the chatter. “Shall we begin?”

The room quiets as everyone takes their seats. Malakai crosses the room with a rolling gait caused by the prosthetic leg he hides with bespoke tailored suits.

“NyxCorp,” I say, launching straight into it. “We’ve secured majority ownership, and the investors are pleased.”

“As they should be,” interjects Malakai. “Though I’m sure your father would’ve handled it differently.”

The jab lands, as it always does, but I don’t rise to it. “NyxCorp barely put up a fight. That concerns me.”

“Concerns you?” he huffs. “We’ve expanded our reach. What’s there to concern you?”

“The Syndicate,” I say, my voice sharpening. “They could be involved somehow.”

Malakai huffs a breath. “You’re looking for problems, Craven. You can’t assume they’re involved in everything we touch.”

“Why not?” I ask. “They’ve plagued us for decades. There’s no reason to think they won’t be involved in this.”

“You’ve said that about the last two deals, and you were wrong.” He cocks his head. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were deliberately trying to slow down company growth.”

“It’s not that,” I counter. “There are just too many variables. NyxCorp’s financials are a mess. Payments funneled to shell companies, offshore accounts—”

“That’s precisely how we were able to undercut them,” he interrupts. “Poor financials. Bad planning. Their tax problems crippled them.”

“I know that. It just seems too convenient,” I respond. “Also, there’s a company called Blackthorn Consulting that keeps cropping up, and we can’t trace them.”

“Blackthorn?” another elder, Lydia, asks. Her sharp eyes narrow.

“A ghost company,” I say. “No records, no address. Sloane’s investigating, but I’m not convinced this takeover was as clean as it seems.”

“You’re overthinking it,” Malakai says, waving a hand. “The Syndicate’s cautious; they’re not bold enough to move against us directly. Not anymore.”

“And if they are?” I counter. “We need to be prepared.”

The room falls silent, the weight of the Syndicate’s shadow settling over us.

“Fine,” Lydia says finally. “What’s your plan?”

“Double security on all assets,” I say. “Monitor NyxCorp’s operations closely.”

“Waste of time and money,” Malakai says, rolling his eyes. “Your father would have razed NyxCorp to ash, not bought their stock.”

“We’re not warlords anymore. Burn a rival, and the Syndicate uses it as propaganda,” I say coolly.

“There’s no such thing as bad press,” he replies. “That arms deal was a case in point.”

I snort. “I still have the SEC breathing down my neck over that, Steele. If we’re going to operate on the Stock Exchange, wehave to keep our noses clean.” I wish I wasn’t the only one who seemed aware of that.

“Bullshit.” He snorts. “We don’t need that. We have more wealth stored than anyone could spend in a thousand years. I don’t know why we persist in playing these human games.”

There’s a hiss from one of the clan members at the table. We may know what we are, but it’s never spoken out loud. I don’t respond. Instead, I turn to Sloane. “Anything else?”

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