Contract Marriage With Alpha Snow - Chapter 159

Chapter 159: Revenge Chapter 159: Revenge ************** CHAPTER 153 ~Author’s POV~ The room was cloaked in shadows, illuminated only by the faint glow of a laptop screen perched on a polished mahogany desk.  A man sat in the leather chair, his fingers steepled under his chin as his eyes remained glued to the video playing on the screen.

The footage was grainy, but the details were unmistakable: the explosion of Snow Zephyr’s car, the fire engulfing it in a fiery blaze, and the subsequent chaos.  The camera captured Zara collapsing, blood staining her temple, while Zade and Snow scrambled to shield her from further harm.

A low chuckle bubbled up from the man’s chest, filling the room with its sinister resonance.

He leaned forward, the harsh light of the screen casting faint shadows on his angular features, though his identity remained hidden in the room’s dim light.

“There you go, Snow Zephyr,” he murmured, his voice carrying a venomous satisfaction.

“This is only the beginning of the pain you’ll endure.

You’ll learn what it’s like to feel helpless, to have the things you cherish torn away piece by piece.” The man’s lips curled into a cruel smile.

“You will understand how I felt the day Marcus was taken from me.

I’ll make sure of it.” A sharp knock interrupted his thoughts, the sound echoing through the room.

His head turned slightly, his amusement fading as he straightened in his chair.

“Enter,” he commanded, his voice clipped and authoritative.

The heavy door creaked open, and a figure stepped inside.

The newcomer was dressed in black leather pants and a fitted black sweatshirt, his face partially obscured by the low hood of his sweatshirt.

He walked in, his boots clicking against the tiled floor, and came to a halt before the desk.

He bowed slightly, his voice steady but deferential.

“Sir, we’ve reached him.” The man in the chair raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

“Be more specific.

Reached who?” “Ivan Zephyr, sir,” the figure replied, his tone even.

The man leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming idly against the armrests as he processed the information.

His narrowed eyes glinted with malice.

“That sorry excuse of a human being?

How predictable.” “Yes, sir,” the figure confirmed.

He leaned forward slightly and hais blond fell forward, obscuring his eyes.

“He’s been cornered.

Shall we proceed?” The man’s lips twitched into a smirk.

“Good.

Ivan should suffer like Snow.

His greed and recklessness were what roped Marcus into his schemes.

Had he not dragged Marcus down, perhaps he’d still be alive today.” The man’s voice grew colder as he leaned forward, his elbows resting on the desk.

“Send word.

Trouble Ivan.

Make him pay for every poor decision he’s ever made.” The figure nodded.

“And Snow Zephyr?” The man’s smirk widened, his eyes glinting with dark amusement.

“Oh, we’re far from finished with him.

Sabotage his business using the Stark family.

Stir internal conflicts.

Divide and€¦” he [icked up a chess piece from the ones on his desk and knocke done of the pawns, “…Conquer.” “Understood, sir.” The figure bowed again before turning to leave.

The man leaned back in his chair, his fingers tracing the edge of the desk as his thoughts churned with malice.

Snow Zephyr, the golden boy of the werewolf world, revered by his pack and respected by his peers.

It was time for that pedestal to crumble.

“I’ll make sure you lose everything,” the man murmured, his gaze flickering back to the frozen image on the laptop screen.

Zara, unconscious and bleeding, Snow kneeling beside her, desperation etched into his features.

The man tilted his head, his lips curling into another cruel smile.

“I’ll make sure your world burns, Snow Zephyr.

Just like you burned mine.” He tapped his fingers against the desk, the rhythmic sound echoing through the room.

“Step by step,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

“I’ll destroy you like how we once reduced Golden Claw.” *************** Meanwhile, in the Zephyr mansion, Snow sat beside Zara’s bed, his hand holding hers as he watched her breathe steadily.

The stitches on her temple were neat, thanks to Xander’s skill, but the sight of her injury still made his heart ache.

A soft knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts.

Scott entered, his usually composed expression laced with unease.

“Sir,” Scott began, his tone cautious.

“The investigators have started reviewing the footage.

Preliminary reports suggest a planted device.” Snow’s jaw tightened, his crimson eyes glinting faintly as Glacier stirred within.

“Good.

Tell them to work faster.

I want answers today, Scott.” “Yes, sir,” Scott replied, bowing slightly before retreating from the room.

Snow exhaled slowly, his hand tightening around Zara’s.

He leaned closer, his voice soft but firm.

“I’ll find who did this, Zara.

And when I do, they’ll regret ever thinking of hurting you.” As the night deepened, Snow’s phone buzzed.

Pickering it up, he checked the caller.

It was Dare Devil.

“Any progress?” Snow demanded without preamble.

“Yes,” Dare Devil replied.

“We’ve traced suspicious activity within your accounts.

Someone’s been planting false flags to cause internal discord.” Snow growled dangerously.

“Who dare?

The Starks, the Wrights or€¦?” “Likely the Starks,” Dare Devil confirmed.

“Their movements have been erratic lately, aligning perfectly with these disruptions.” “Keep digging,” Snow ordered.

“Find me the source.

I want to end this before it escalates further.” Dare Devil chuckled darkly.

“You got it.

Oh, and Snow?” “What?” “Take care of your girl.

I’ll handle the rest.” The line went dead, leaving Snow to sit in the quiet room, his thoughts swirling with anger, guilt, and determination.

“Whoever you are,” Snow murmured, his crimson eyes narrowing as he stared out the window into the darkened night, “you’ve just made the biggest mistake of your life.” Snow picked up the wet towel on Zara’s head and replaced it with a new one before settling beside her and smiling at her sleepy form.  Just then another call entered his phone and when he answered Jupiter’s call, the first word that fell off his friend’s lips was that of a dead man.

“Marcus fucking Devereaux.” “What?” “I believe he is alive.”