Chapter 267 Who’s going to take responsibility for this mess?

Chapter 267: Chapter 267 Who’s going to take responsibility for this mess?

Aria’s POV

On the drive back, my phone buzzed in my purse. I assumed it was Damian—I’d texted him the moment I left the venue, like I always did.

I’d even mentioned running into Julian Cross, knowing full well that Sentinel Energy was positioned as a direct competitor to some of Damian’s Crown-backed ventures.

But when I answered, a woman’s voice cut through the line instead.

"Aria."

I stiffened. Sylvia.

Sylvia had never called me directly before. It was always Nathan she went through—some careful buffer of distance she liked to keep between us. Her calling me herself already told me something was wrong.

"Your grandfather wants to see you."

Grandfather? My mind snagged on the word. She had to mean my father’s adoptive father—there was no one else it could be. But I’d been back for months now. Months. And in all that time, not one word from him, nothing to suggest he even remembered I existed. So why now?

Before I could ask, I heard her voice pull away from the receiver. "Here," she said, off to the side, like she was handing the phone to someone standing right next to her.

A beat. Then a different voice came through—older, measured, quiet in a way that still somehow carried weight.

"Aria."

I went still.Alpha Edmund.

He’d been right there with her the whole time.

"I want you to come abroad," he said, without any greeting, without any explanation for the months of silence. "Alone. There’s something important I need to say to you. In person. Just the two of us."

"Wait—what is it? Can’t you just tell me now—"

"Not over the phone."

Then the line went dead before I could respond.

I stared at the phone, my pulse picking up.

What on earth was going on?

Whatever this was, it meant something had shifted. Something significant enough that he couldn’t wait.

---

By the time I got home, the sky was still caught between dusk and dark, the city lights beginning to flicker on across the skyline.

I’d promised Damian I’d spend the evening with him. After days of keeping him confined to the penthouse while his injuries healed, I’d finally agreed to stay in tonight, no work, no distractions.

But of course, Damian had other plans.

I could hear voices before I even opened the front door.

He was holding a meeting.

Rick and I eased the door open just wide enough to slip inside, holding our breath as we crept into the entryway together.

He’d wanted to go straight to Damian and tell him I was back, but I grabbed his arm and shook my head before he could take a step—so instead, he stayed close beside me, easing in at my side.

And there, at the center of it all, was Damian.

He was sprawled on the sofa in a way that should’ve looked casual but somehow wasn’t. One hand flipped lazily through a project report. The other rested on his thigh, fingers drumming against his phone screen.

I’d rarely seen him like this—dressed down in dark lounge pants and a fitted black shirt, his hair unstyled, glasses perched on his nose.

He looked almost... domestic.

Except for the aura.

Even in his own home, even dressed like he’d just rolled out of bed, Damian Blackwood radiated authority. Cold, absolute, unshakable.

No one in that room dared speak unless spoken to.

I edged into the crowd, trying to blend in with the enforcers standing along the wall. One wolf spotted me immediately, his eyes widening, but I pressed a finger to my lips before he could alert Damian.

His gaze darted nervously toward his Alpha, but he stayed quiet.

The silence in the room was suffocating. I had no idea what kind of meeting this was, but the tension was thick enough to choke on.

Damian worked with ruthless efficiency when it came to pack business. He didn’t waste time on explanations or reassurances. He simply assessed, decided, and moved on.

Emotion didn’t factor into it.

Even when faced with the worst possible scenario, his expression never changed. He was a machine—precise, calculated, untouchable.

But his presence alone was enough to unravel people.

I watched one of the younger wolves shift uncomfortably under Damian’s stare, and I almost felt sorry for him.

Almost.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Damian tossed the report aside. He glanced at his phone, his jaw tightening slightly.

Rick cleared his throat. "Your Majesty... should we adjourn?"

Damian’s gaze didn’t lift from the screen.

"Someone want to tell me," he said quietly, his voice lethally calm, "who’s going to take responsibility for this mess?"

---

Damian’s POV

An hour and thirteen minutes.

That’s how long it had been since Aria’s last message—a brief *I’ll try to be home early*—in response to my question about what time she’d be back.

Nothing since.

The silence grated on me more than it should have.

Around me, the room fell into a tense hush. Every wolf present could feel the shift in my mood, the air growing heavier with each passing second.

I didn’t need to raise my voice. I never did.

My wolf stirred beneath my skin.

*’She’s fine,’* he growled. *’You’re being irrational.’*

*I know.*

But knowing didn’t stop the unease coiling in my chest.

I flipped through another page of the project report without really reading it, my other hand drumming against my phone screen. The numbers blurred together. None of it mattered right now.

Someone in the room inhaled sharply.

I didn’t look up. "Something to say?"

Dead silence.

Good.

I rarely got distracted during pack business. Meetings were efficient, clinical—I assessed the situation, made my decision, and moved on. Emotion didn’t factor into it.

But tonight, my focus was fractured.

Tonight, all I could think about was why she wasn’t answering.

Rick shifted uncomfortably beside me, and I felt his weight lean slightly against my shoulder—a cautious nudge, like he was trying to pull me back to the present.

I ignored him.

He tried again.

This time, I turned my head and fixed him with a stare cold enough to freeze blood.

Rick went rigid.

"Oh?" My voice was lethally soft. "You want to take responsibility for this?"

"N-no, Alpha. I—"

Wait.

Rick was supposed to be at the summit. With Aria.

If he was standing here, in this room, taking the brunt of my temper—then where the hell was she?

The thought had barely finished forming when a throat cleared behind me.

Feminine. Familiar.

My entire body went still.

The icy rage that had been simmering beneath my skin evaporated in an instant, replaced by something warm and utterly consuming.

*Aria.*