Chapter 77: Conversation

Chapter 77 Cameron I sit in the café, the same one where Lenora and Ronan first cornered me months ago. Back then, I thought Lenora was delusional, speaking about fated mates like it was some fairytale. Now? She’s my entire world. Funny how fast everything can change. So my gut feeling about a witch owning this place was right—she does. Simone asked a couple of weeks ago because I was so curious, and apparently there’s not just a spell woven into the drinks, but one laid over the entire premises. A subtle enchantment that drapes calm over anyone who steps inside, coaxing sharp edges into soft ones, volatile tempers into manageable ones. That’s why I wanted to meet here. If Adrian Neta and I were going to talk without posturing, without bloodshed, it had to be somewhere that dulled the instinct to bare teeth and claws. I’m calm. Relaxed. Controlled. Exactly how I need to be. Soon enough, the door opens, and Adrian walks in—alone. No brothers, no sister. Just him. He walks over, having that usual confidence that comes off him in waves, and sits opposite me. "Cameron," he says. "Adrian." I respond. He orders a drink. "So, last night was interesting," I bring it up. He looks at me and exhales. "We’re getting right into it, it seems," he says. I don’t respond. Honestly, Adrian Neta isn’t a conversationalist, and neither am I. When we meet for business, it’s always swift and straight to the point. No pleasantries, no wasted time. "My bad, should we braid each other’s hair and share secrets?" I say, deadpan. Adrian snorts. "Actually yes, I was thinking of adding a couple of bows too." Dammit. I can’t help it — a laugh breaks out. We literally have the same dry sense of humor. Not helping, I’m supposed to be serious. "I’m sorry," he says suddenly, tone shifting. "About my sister." I blink at him. "What? I came expecting a declaration of war or something." The server places his tea in front of him. Adrian nods in thanks, then looks back at me, steady. "Honestly, though wolves are aggressive, I think we forget we’re human too. Sometimes we let that wolf side get too far." "Definitely not what I was expecting," I admit, watching him take a slow sip. He shrugs. "Well, my... unconventional way of thinking is why my pack has grown to its current size. It’s not just strength or numbers. It’s knowing when to fight, and when to sit down with the enemy and share tea." "Pack," I echo, almost disbelieving. "Can’t believe you’re a wolf." His mouth twitches in amusement. "I can’t believe you’re a wolf. For years, I didn’t notice." "Well," I mutter, "I’m pretty sure had I not met my mate, I wouldn’t have known that either." Adrian leans back into the chair, folding his arms with casual ease. "So how is it? I’m sure after practically thirty years as human it must be... something." I groan and scrub a hand over my face. "You have no idea. One thing though—it’s so damn loud. And the smells... heavens, the smells." He chuckles, the sound deep and almost knowing. "Now you realize why our meetings have always been in places like this." I pause, thinking about it. He’s right. Every meeting I’ve had with Adrian over the years has been in quiet places—this café, open parks, nature resorts. Never in boardrooms, never in crowded offices. I just never questioned it, or gave it particular thought before. "Honestly, I get it," I admit. My commute flashes in my mind—horns blaring, too many bodies pressed too close, the stench of exhaust and sweat. Some days it’s overwhelming. I’ve been thinking about moving my headquarters or, at the very least, relocating myself. And then, before I even realize it, I’m talking. Really talking. Not the rehearsed words of polished boardroom conversations but unfiltered thoughts. Maybe it’s the calming spell woven into this café, maybe it’s Adrian’s aura, maybe it’s just the relief of finally speaking to someone who understands. "I’m telling you," I say, shaking my head, "though the deal seemed lucrative, I met the representative and he smelled like a corpse. Metallic. Iron. It absolutely repulsed me. I had Simone send him away." Adrian laughs, full and genuine. "Vampire. That man must’ve been working for one." "Argh. Absolutely disgusting." Adrian leans in, voice lowering. "I’m telling you, Cameron, the true powers behind humanity are those corpses. They’ve got their fangs in everything—governments, monarchies, corporations. I had to claw myself up to this level of success. At every turn, they blocked me. Every opportunity, they twisted. I almost gave up more than once." His jaw is tight, his eyes sharp with old memories. For a man who always projects control, I see the ghost of exhaustion under the polish. He goes on, telling me about the early years. About warehouses torched to ash, deals sabotaged at the last second, investors who mysteriously disappeared or turned hostile overnight. He describes standing guard himself, posted outside his own facilities like some foot soldier instead of an heir. Nights where the stench of smoke clung to his clothes, days where every victory was paid for in blood and sweat. And I’m impressed. Not by the wealth—I’ve been around wealth long enough that it doesn’t faze me—but by the sheer tenacity. The grit. "That’s the thing about vampires," Adrian says, his tone clipped. "They’re patient. They rot the foundation before anyone notices. You don’t see the collapse until the house is already falling." I think about the man I met, the corpse-smell, the metallic tang of blood. My skin crawls. "And you fought them off?" I ask. He smirks faintly, swirling his tea. "I didn’t have a choice. My pack’s survival depended on it. If I hadn’t adapted, they’d have gutted everything. But I learned something along the way—sometimes it’s not enough to play defense. You have to outmaneuver them. Bite harder when they least expect it." I nod slowly. "Sounds like business as usual, really. Just... with fangs." Adrian actually laughs at that, and for a moment we’re just two men in a café, finding humor in the chaos. My phone rings, snapping me out of our conversation. The vibration cuts through the low murmur of the café, and I glance at the screen. It’s Len. Only then do I realize the café windows are dark, night pressing against the glass. Hours had slipped past without me noticing. I silence the call and chuckle. "We may have gotten carried away." Adrian smirks faintly, lifting his cup for the last sip, I notice now the presence of multiple empty cups. "I’d say just a tad bit. A little." I slide my phone back into my pocket, suddenly aware of how rare it is for me to lose track of time like this. "Right," I say, shifting the conversation back on course. "About yesterday’s events?" The whole reason we’d arranged to meet is only now resurfacing in my mind, hours later. Adrian leans back and waves it off. "Ah. Don’t worry about it." He rises smoothly, buttoning his jacket as if the matter is beneath him. I stand too. My brow furrows. "Should you really react so nonchalantly?" He shrugs. "Nope. But that’s the thing about being the Alpha. No one can do anything about it."