Chapter 17

The hush shattered—buzz exploding like we'd all just chugged moonshine.

Nobody saw that twist coming—talk about a gut-punch encore!

"That she-wolf's ice-cold! Who knew? Joseph's been cuddling a viper all this time!"

"Talk about hoisting your own petard—ha! Check George's mug. Joseph's toast this round."

Zoe stared at the drive in her paw, ghost-white, then flicked to Joseph's eyes—pure murder, ready to flay her alive.

How? How'd it flip?

That drive was supposed to sing her tune!

She whipped toward me, venom twisting her face.

I met her stare slow, steady—saw right through her house of cards, every ace up her sleeve.

Rage warped her; she charged. "You bitch—you set me up!"

Before she closed the gap, Brian's guards slammed her onto the table—thud, like a dropped sack of bones.

Joseph's fangs clamped, fury blazing hot enough to torch her on the spot.

"You faked the heart thing? All this—stalking me on purpose?"

He couldn't wrap his head around it—played for a fool by a she-wolf's sleight of paw!

Zoe thrashed wild—futile.

Gulps ragged, chest heaving.

Her whole game? Shredded.

Lewis pack'd been bleeding cash on a botched gig lately.

Joseph's under-the-table houses? Raided left and right on tips.

This George hookup? His white whale—had to land it.

Zoe? Timed it perfect: yank the rug when he peaked, crater his empire and the family house.

But now...

Chips? Dust.

She cracked—manic cackle chilling the air. "Yeah! Fooled ya blind! Joseph, Mr. Devoted? Pfft—what a fraud! Tiny fib, and you lap it up. Moon's grace on you? A beast like you? Earned it, maybe!"

Her glare? Poison darts, wishing him cold right there.

Joseph's paws shook, barely leashed.

George stewed silent, then piped up like he'd hit his limit. "Joseph, this mess? Your yard, not mine. But if you can't corral your own chaos, how's the real deal look? Bow out, Lewis Business—cleaner that way."

Eyes darted to Joseph, awkward pity.

George's word? Law. Lewis? Sidelined for good.

Joseph's fist flexed—loose, tight, repeat.

Sights shifted to me—quiet through the storm, just watching.

But he knew. Deep down. The pup pulling strings? Me.

Room cleared—his crew lingered, Zoe shoved back his way like damaged goods.

Assistant clutched the drive, slinking up glum. "Joseph... her?"

Zoe's peepers pinpricked.

Joseph stalked over, shadow swallowing light, paw viseing her jaw.

Crack!

Her scream ripped—guts-twisting. "Joseph, you monster! Filth! Rot in hell!"

In her curses, his face went storm-black. "Let's see who drops first—me or you? Haul her!"

"Got it!" Assistant waved.

Guards dragged her out the back, kicking and snarling.

George tapped Brian for the team-up.

Rest of the pack? Snagged scraps from his table.

Joseph's old glory? Now a scrap with a rival's bite.

But he didn't clock it—eyes locked on me, glued to Brian's side.

That paw wrapping mine? Joseph reared back, fist hammering the wall—once, twice, fury painting his knuckles red.

Pain spidered to his core, but he swallowed the howl. No unraveling here—not yet.