Claimed after divorce by my brother’s best friend

CH 7 - Alaric

ALARIC POV

I let the phone ring three times before answering.

Not because I didn’t know who it was.

Not because I needed time.

Because if I answered too fast, Caelin would know how bad this was for me too.

I was standing by the window of my office, one hand braced against the glass, the city stretched out below in clean lines and ordered chaos. Portland looked calm from this height. Controlled. Predictable. The way I liked my world to be.

The phone vibrated again in my hand.

“Say it,” I said finally.

The sound that exploded through the speaker wasn’t a voice so much as a roar. Raw. Unfiltered. The kind of sound that came from a man who had already broken something expensive and was considering breaking more.

“That son of a b***h—”

I pulled the phone a few inches away from my ear, jaw tightening.

“Caelin,” I cut in. Calm. Even. “Breathe.”

I should have known better.

Never tell a raging man to breathe. Never.

“I gave her space,” he snarled. “I let her walk away. I let her believe she was alone because she needed to believe it. And this is what he does?”

I exhaled slowly through my nose and leaned back against my desk, the solid weight of it grounding me. My office had been designed deliberately—reinforced concrete walls, soundproofing, minimal windows. A room built for negotiations that sometimes ended in contracts and sometimes ended in blood.

“I told you he wasn’t good enough,” Caelin went on, voice sharp with fury. “I told you Crescent Moon was a rotting pack clinging to old titles and borrowed money—”

“You told me he loved her,” I interrupted. My voice didn’t rise, but it carried weight. “And your spies told you she loved him back.”

Silence.

Not the empty kind. The heavy kind.

That landed.

I closed my eyes briefly, pictures stolen from her brother’s desk filled my mind. Aria at eighteen, chin lifted in defiance. Aria at twenty-two, laughing despite herself. Aria walking in a parc with two toddlers with a smile so bright the Sun seemed dim.

Caelin had always known where his sister was. From the moment Aria left the pack a couple of days before her eighteenth birthday, he’d made sure of that. Discreetly. Quietly. Bodyguards woven into Portland University’s security staff. Wolves trained to observe without being seen, to intervene only if absolutely necessary.

She’d wanted freedom from the cruel hand the Goddess had dealt her.

Caelin had given her the illusion of it.

When she married another alpha, there had been nothing he could do. Not without dragging her back in chains and becoming the kind of brother she’d run from in the first place.

So he’d accepted it.

So had I.

I’d done business with Jasper more than once. Quietly. Strategically. Helped stabilize supply lines when Crescent Moon faltered. Shifted contracts when creditors circled. Made sure Jasper’s pack didn’t collapse while Aria lived under its roof, unaware that half the reason her life was comfortable was because two alphas were silently propping up the man she’d chosen.

We thought she was safe.

We thought he loved her.

And now?

Now Jasper had plastered his face across half the eastern states with another woman on his arm like he was daring the world to comment.

“I want blood,” Caelin said, his voice lower now. Controlled. Dangerous. “I want his pack reduced to ash.”

I pressed my thumb hard into the edge of my desk until the wood creaked.

“I know,” I said.

“And if you’re about to tell me to wait—”

“I am,” I said. “And you will.”

He laughed, sharp and humorless. “You’re asking me to do the one thing I’ve never done when someone touched my family.”

“I’m asking you to do the thing that keeps her safe,” I replied.

That slowed him.

Barely.

“She hasn’t called,” Caelin said after a moment. “She hasn’t asked for help. Which means she’s still protecting him.”

“Or,” I countered, turning back toward the window, “she has a plan and she’s protecting the children.”

Another pause.

Longer this time.

Good. He was listening now.

Small victories mattered.

“Zoom in on the photos,” I said.

“What?”

“The ones circulating,” I repeated. “Zoom in. Jasper and Aria. The older ones.”

I heard movement on the other end. Fabric shifting. A low curse. The unmistakable sound of a very large man handling a phone far too small for his hands.

“What am I supposed to be looking for?” he grunted.

“Zoom more,” I urged. “Right on their necks.”

“I see no mark on her neck. Or his,” he muttered. “The fucker married my sister and didn’t mark her? Why?”

“Exactly,” I said. “Why though?”

Silence pressed against my ear.

“They never marked each other,” I continued. “Which means one of two things. Either he didn’t want to… or she didn’t let him.”

I felt something sharp twist in my chest as I said it. A realization settling into place with ugly clarity.

Caelin’s breathing changed.

“She never told him,” he said slowly.

“No,” I agreed. “She didn’t. And even if he still thinks she’s human, after all these years, any wolf—hell, even an omega—would have marked the woman he loved.”

I stepped closer to the glass, the city sprawling beneath me. From above, everything looked orderly. Controlled. Every piece in place.

“If Jasper had known who she was,” I went on, “if he’d known she was your sister, if he’d known what blood she carried—he would have leveraged it.”

Caelin scoffed. “He’s not smart enough.”

“He’s not honorable enough,” I corrected. “There’s a difference.”

I turned away from the window, pacing now, thoughts aligning with grim precision.

“We both know Jasper isn’t the brightest cub in the forest,” I said. “But he’s ambitious. And desperate men notice power. If he’d known Aria was an alpha—second heir of Willow Pack—he would have come to you the moment his pack started bleeding money.”

That earned a growl.

“His pack was bankrupt before he married her,” I continued. “Barely solvent. His father hasn’t even handed him the title yet. He’s the oldest alpha heir in recent history because no one trusted him to lead.”

I let that sink in.

“He didn’t marry her for alliance,” I finished. “Because he didn’t know there could be one.”

Caelin swore viciously.

“So he humiliated her publicly without realizing what he just did,” he said.

“Yes.”

“And now the human press is eating him alive.”

“Yes.”

“And the council will see it.”

“Yes.”

He exhaled slowly, rage compressing into something colder.

“That i***t,” he muttered.

I didn’t correct him.

Because if Jasper had known, he wouldn’t have done this.

Which meant Aria had hidden herself completely. Her blood. Her lineage. Her strength.

She’d gone human for him.

And he’d repaid her by putting another woman on his arm.

“That’s not even the worst part,” Caelin said suddenly.

“No,” I agreed. “It’s not.”

He waited.

“She’s not running,” I said. “If she were, you’d know. She would have called you.”

“I doubt it,” he muttered. “She’s always been a stubborn pain in my ass.”

I almost smiled.

“I think she has a plan,” I said instead.

That earned my first real smile of the night. Tight. Grim. Proud.

“I hope you’re right,” Caelin said, pride bleeding through the anger. “That’s my sister.”

“Yes,” I said quietly. “It is.”

The line went silent.

Then, softer: “If you hadn’t been there… if you hadn’t kept an eye on things…”

“I didn’t do it for you,” I replied.

That was true.

Mostly.

I did it because I’d known Aria since she was a child. Because I’d watched her mother’s eyes dim long before her body failed. Because I’d seen the way Aria learned too young how to make herself smaller, quieter, less threatening.

Because I’d promised myself that if she ever needed a door kicked open, I would be standing on the other side.

“What do we do?” Caelin asked. “I’m not good at the waiting game. You know that.”

I looked back at the city. At the systems I controlled. At the leverage already in motion.

“We wait,” I said. “And then we celebrate.”

“Celebrate?” he echoed.

“Your sister is days away from coming home,” I said. “We’ll need champagne.”

“I hope you’re right,” Caelin said.

So did I.

Because if I wasn’t - I tightened my grip on the phone until the plastic creaked - then waiting would no longer be an option.