Chapter 35

The last thing Marcus wants to do is follow Charles up to his office for some alcohol-fueled private confrontation, but he has little choice. Gritting his teeth, he strides steadily behind Charles to the elevators in the foyer.

They're silent on the way up to the office, and as they walk down the hallways to Charles's private rooms. It's not until they've shut the door and both taken seats at Charles's desk before Charles speaks.

"You need to concede your candidacy for Heir to your sister," he says.

Whatever Marcus expected Charles to say, it wasn't that.

"What the hell are you talking about?" he says, equal parts bewildered and offended.

Aside from the fact that this is an outrageous request, it's also none of Charles's goddamn business. He's not in line for the position of Alpha. Even if Daisy is named Heir, Charles will never be anything more than the Alpha Luna's consort. Christ, he's not even a werewolf!

Marcus had been wondering if Charles was getting a little too comfortable in his position in the Alpha's household, forgetting his true place, and now he's certain of it.

"Oh, don't bellyache at me," Charles says irritably. He unlocks his desk drawer and digs around in it for two glasses and half a bottle of Talisker. Marcus purses his lips in disapproval – Charles really doesn't need any more alcohol, if his slurred words, flushed face, and sheer audacity are anything to go by.

On the other hand, if Marcus has a drink or two with him, Charles might forget himself even more. He might forget himself and say something he wouldn't otherwise reveal.

So, he accepts the sloppily poured drink and takes a sip, waiting for Charles to continue. Charles downs his glass in one go and refills it with an unsteady hand, then holds it close to his lips and surveys Marcus with cold eyes.

"You're unsuitable," he says at last. "You're unmarried, and you know as well as I do that you're never going to commit to Lydia. She's a sweet girl, but a total idiot. You're not the sort of man who is going to marry a pretty idiot just to smooth your political image.

"But there's more," he continues. "You're not committed, Marcus. You're unwilling to do what it takes to get ahead, to get this family ahead. To get this community ahead. You're so married to your principles" – he sneers on the word – "that you have no space for anyone else, much less a Luna.

"And there's certainly no room for you to take initiative, to make the hard choices. You'll never do that. You live in some old-fashioned world where chivalry and kindness and honor always triumph. Just like your father. Well, you don't live in that world anymore – something your father refuses to see, too, and it'll get him killed in the end."

Marcus is so angry he can't bring himself to speak, lest he lose his temper so badly that he does something he'll regret. His canine teeth elongate, his wolf fighting to break free and leap across the desk to tear out Charles's throat for his insolence, but he forces his wolf to be still.

Charles is a greedy upstart who has never learned the lesson of patience and biding one's time, of letting the enemy talk himself into the noose. Marcus isn't going to make the same mistake. So, he waits and listens.

"What this family needs now is an Alpha of the 21st century. One who will drive this family forward and do what must be done to succeed. That isn't you, and it definitely isn't your weak-spined, idiotic brother with a gambling problem."

Marcus blinks in surprise at that, trying not to give away that this is news to him. He thought his men had kept a good eye on Daisy and Joel, but clearly not good enough, not if he's missed something that big.

That's something else to worry about, now – if Joel has a gambling problem, where is that money coming from? And where is it going?

Marcus forces himself to return his focus to Charles. He can deal with Joel later.

"I know you're a sensible man at heart, Marcus," Charles is jabbering on, his voice even more unsteady than it was before. He drains his whisky glass and fills it for a third time. "You want what's best for this family as much as I do.

"That's why you need to step down. Let Daisy take over. Think of your father's health, as well. He's failing – fading. You can see that as well as I can. A new heir needs to be named before his death, or this pack will fall into total chaos.

"Your father is old-fashioned, like I said. He'll hold out for naming you heir – the last thing he'll want to do is name a Luna as heir, even though Daisy is clearly the best choice. But if you step down, he'll have no choice, and we can save this family and community before it's too late."

Marcus drains his own whisky and sets it on the table with a quiet but decisive thud. Then he leans across the desk, his elbows resting on the surface, and stares into Charles's eyes for a long moment without speaking.

Charles tries to hold his gaze, but grows uncomfortable and looks away first. Only then does Marcus reply.

"You mean that you want to take over," he says, his voice deathly quiet.

Charles jumps and looks up at him again, mouth opening to protest, but Marcus holds up a hand, and Charles snaps his mouth closed.

"You want to take over," Marcus says. "Don't bother denying it, Charles. I'm not a fool, which you should know very well. Why you thought you could drag me in here and spin some sob story about how you only have the welfare of the pack at heart, I'll never know, unless it's because that whisky has pickled your brain so badly that you can't think straight anymore."

Charles looks insulted at that, but Marcus goes on:

"You don't fool me, Charles. I'm not stepping down, and I'll die before I see you seize control of this pack and drive everything my family has worked for into the ground. Your position isn't nearly as secure as you seem to think it is, so I'll tell you right now:

"If I were you, I'd watch your goddamn back."

Then Marcus stands up so quickly that his chair knocks over and falls to the floor behind him. He whisks out the door without bothering to pick it up, slamming the door as he goes.

He whips out his cell phone and dials Liam as he storms down the hallway.

"Liam?" he says into the phone, glancing around to make sure that he hasn't been followed. "It's Marcus. Come to my office first thing tomorrow morning. We have a problem, and we need to talk about what the hell we're going to do about it."

He ends the call and shoves his phone back into the inside breast pocket of his suit before taking a deep breath to try to calm himself. He needs to get back down to the party, to try to catch Evelyn before she leaves.

If she is Nicole, and if Charles is connected to all of this, she might be in more danger than Marcus had realized. He'd come to suspect that Charles was a little clinger-on, a power-hungry weasel with all the dignity and principles of a scorpion, but he hadn't realized just how dangerous Charles might actually be.

He needs to talk to Evelyn, just in case.

But by the time he returns to the ballroom, he can't find her anywhere. He lingers a while, hoping that perhaps she just left to check on his father or use the bathroom, but she doesn't reappear. Finally, he speaks to Roger, who confirms that Evelyn left for home a few minutes before Marcus came back to the party.

Damn, Marcus thinks. He fetches himself another whisky from the bar and sits to consider his options. Perhaps it's best that he talks to Liam first, anyway. Together, they can decide what to do next.

He drains his whisky and then slips out the side door to go up to bed.