Chapter 192 This wasn’t over
Author’s POV
Sylvia ended the call and leaned back in her chair, a slow smile curving her lips.
She was seated in the grand conference room of the her estate, surrounded by the her senior council members who’d been waiting patiently for her to finish.
The moment the call disconnected, every eye in the room turned to her.
"My apologies," she said smoothly, gesturing for them to continue. "Family business. Please, go on."
But her mind was already elsewhere.
Victor owing her a favor was... convenient. Especially now, with Aria sniffing around the family assets and Nathan struggling to keep control of the V&A Group’s business operations.
If she played this right, she could leverage Victor’s desperation into something far more useful than a simple quid pro quo.
She dismissed the council with a wave of her hand and motioned for her assistant—a sharp-eyed young wolf named Sam—to approach.
"I need you to make a call," she said quietly. "Reach out to the Sterling family in Europe. Tell them I’m calling in an old favor."
Sam nodded. "What do you want me to say?"
"Tell them I need Lucas Smith released from custody. Immediately. And make it clear that if they do this for me, I’ll owe them."
"Yes, ma’am."
Sam turned to leave, then paused at the door. "Ma’am? Nathan is still in the vault. It’s been four hours."
Sylvia glanced at her watch, expression unreadable. "I’ll handle it."
She rose from her seat, smoothing down her skirt as she made her way toward the estate’s underground vault—a reinforced bunker built into the foundation during the property’s construction.
Most Packs used spaces like this for storage. Weapons. Emergency supplies. Records too sensitive to keep aboveground.
But Sylvia had repurposed hers.
She descended the narrow staircase, the air growing colder and damper with each step, until she reached the heavy steel door at the bottom. She punched in the access code and stepped inside.
The vault had been divided into two separate rooms.
One was a bedroom—sparse, windowless, suffocating. The other was a study, lined with old bookshelves and a single wooden desk.
Both were designed for one purpose: punishment.
Sylvia had always believed in discipline. Structure. Control. From the moment she’d adopted Nathan as a boy, she’d made it clear that mistakes had consequences. Disobedience would not be tolerated. And if he stepped out of line, this was where he’d end up—locked in the dark, kneeling on cold stone, forced to reflect on his failures until she decided he’d learned his lesson.
It had worked. Mostly.
Nathan had grown into a competent, obedient son. He rarely made the same mistake twice. And when he did, a few hours down here was usually enough to remind him of his place.
But lately, he’d been slipping.
Ever since Aria had returned and claimed her inheritance, Nathan had been distracted—sloppy, even. He’d failed to block her legal challenges. Failed to keep her out of the Pack’s business. And worst of all, he’d dragged Sylvia’s name into the mess by letting one of his subordinates get caught in a financial scandal that reflected badly on the entire family.
So she’d sent him down here to think about it.
The guard stationed outside the study door straightened as Sylvia approached. "He’s been kneeling for four hours, ma’am."
"Good." Sylvia nodded curtly. "Open the door."
The guard obeyed, and the heavy door swung open to reveal Nathan inside.
He was shirtless, drenched in sweat, his hair plastered to his forehead. He knelt in the corner facing the wall, where Sylvia had hung a framed list of the seventy-eight rules she’d drilled into him since childhood.
*Obey without question. Never show weakness. Protect the family above all else.*
"Nathan," the guard said quietly. "Your mother is here."
Nathan lifted his head slowly, his expression blank and exhausted. "Mother."
"Get up," Sylvia said coolly.
He tried. But four hours on his knees had left his legs numb and unsteady, and he had to brace himself against the wall just to stand. The guard moved to help him, but Sylvia stopped him with a sharp look.
"Do you know why you’re here?" she asked, her tone clinical.
"Yes." Nathan’s voice was hoarse. "I was careless. I underestimated the situation and let my guard down."
Sylvia inhaled slowly, studying him. "You’re a grown man, Nathan. Do you think it’s fair that I still have to punish you like a child?"
"No," he said immediately. "You’re right to punish me. I made a mistake."
Sylvia softened slightly—just barely. "From the day I brought you into this family, I told you I don’t raise failures. Do you remember?"
"I remember."
"Good." She gestured toward the door. "Go clean yourself up. Then meet me in my office. We have work to do."
Nathan nodded stiffly and limped toward the exit, leaning heavily on the guard for support.
Once he was gone, Sylvia turned and left the vault, her heels clicking sharply against the stone floor as she climbed back up to the main house.
---
Thirty minutes later, Nathan appeared in Sylvia’s office, freshly showered and dressed in a crisp suit that hid the exhaustion still etched into his face.
Sylvia slid a printed document across the desk toward him. "I have a job for you."Nathan picked it up, his brow furrowing as he scanned the contents. His eyes widened slightly. "You want me to go after the Blackwood Pack?"
"Not the Pack,I want you to handle it quietly," Sylvia corrected. "This has nothing to do with you personally. You’re just the messenger."
Nathan’s jaw tightened. "Mother... the Blackwoods are the Alpha King’s family. If I get involved in this and it goes wrong—"
"It won’t go wrong," Sylvia interrupted, her voice sharp. "Not if you do it properly."
"But the company—I have responsibilities—"
"You’ll take a temporary leave from the company," Sylvia said flatly.
"Consider it part of your punishment. Aria’s been looking for an excuse to push you out anyway—this gives her one. You step back, lay low, and handle this job for me. When it’s done, you’ll come back stronger."
Nathan stared at her, his wolf bristling beneath his skin at the injustice of it all. But he knew better than to argue.
Sylvia leaned forward, her amber eyes glowing faintly in the dim light—a reminder of the predator beneath the polished exterior.
"This isn’t a request, Nathan. You failed me. Now you fix it. Or I’ll find someone who can."
There was no room for argument. No wiggle room. Just cold, hard Pack law: obey or be replaced.
"Understood," Nathan said quietly, his wolf whimpering in submission. "I’ll take care of it."
"Good." Sylvia waved him toward the door. "Go handle your transition at the office. I want this done by the end of the week."
Nathan left without another word, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.
Sylvia waited until the door clicked shut before turning back to her computer, pulling up the encrypted file on Andrew Blackwood one more time.
Thirty years ago, Andrew had crossed a rogues territory—wolves without territory, without law, who operated in the shadows of the werewolf world.
He’d walked away unscathed.
But debts like that didn’t disappear.
They just waited.
And now, it was time to collect.
*The son pays for the father’s sins,* Sylvia thought coldly, her wolf rumbling with satisfaction deep in her chest. *It’s only fair.*