Exodus Gamble

Leah was determin. Her voice stayed steady.

"I pulled him out of a grave."

Silence.

Thick. Weighted.

Ava's smirk faded.

James' brow furrowed. "Define 'grave.'"

Leah inhaled, slow and measured.

"Two years ago, Jace got caught in the wrong power play."

A flick of her wrist, a slow exhale.

"It was supposed to be a routine corporate shift—hostile takeover, nothing unusual. Except his enemies didn't want him bankrupt."

Her voice dipped lower.

"They wanted him gone."

Kael's silver eyes didn't leave her.

Didn't blink. Didn't shift.

But Leah felt him dissecting every word.

"So what happened?" Kael asked, his voice even, unreadable.

Leah's jaw tensed.

Her voice, flat, stripped down.

"They put a bullet in his skull and dumped him in the ocean."

Ava blinked. "Well, that's… thorough."

Leah exhaled sharply.

"Not thorough enough."

A pause.

"He survived."

James arched a brow. "How?"

Leah's lips pressed.

Her voice, soft, clipped.

"Because I found him first."

Another beat of silence.

Kael's head tilted, something sharp flickering behind his gaze.

"So you saved his life."

Leah nodded once. "More than once."

Her fingers curled at her sides, a habit, a tell.

Ava caught it.

Her dark eyes flicked to Leah. "But there's more, isn't there?"

Leah hesitated.

Then—

"I'm going to save him again."

Kael's silver eyes narrowed.

"Explain."

Leah exhaled, her pulse kicking up.

"In my first timeline, Jace was fine at launch. But by Year Three—" she swallowed tightly, "—his mate wasn't."

Ava's brows shot up. "Mate? Since when does Jace Solen have a mate?"

Leah's lips pressed into a thin line.

"She wasn't public. She wasn't supposed to be with him. They were a rare bonding event. And when the medical crisis hit—" her voice hitched, "—he didn't have the right treatment. She didn't make it."

A breath.

A sharp, splintering breath.

"And it ended him."

The air in the room tightened.

Kael's voice, low and precise:

"But you know how to stop it."

Leah nodded once. "Yes."

Her hands curled into fists.

"She needed a specific blood transfusion—Omega-marked with certain genetic stabilizers."

A beat.

"I have those markers."

Ava's eyes went wide. "You're going to give Jace's mate your blood."

Leah's voice was calm. Unwavering.

"Yes."

Kael's gaze stayed on her.

Heavy. Cutting. Cold.

But underneath?

Something else.

Something dangerous.

Something calculating.

"Why?" he asked, voice quiet. Steady.

But Leah heard the real question.

What is he to you?

Leah's throat worked once.

Her next words landed like a gunshot.

"He's my cousin."

Ava froze.

James' brows lifted.

And Kael—

Kael's expression didn't change.

Not a flicker.

Not a blink.

But Leah felt the air shift around him.

"Solen's bloodline is unregistered," James murmured. "No genetic markers linked to any existing families."

Leah's lips curled, sharp, bitter.

In the last timeline when she learn this it had been too late.

A regret. One of many.

"Yeah, well. Our side of the family tree was erased before we were born."

Ava let out a low, slow whistle.

"Well, damn."

Kael exhaled, slow.

His voice barely a breath:

"And he doesn't know?"

Leah's throat tightened.

"No."

A pause.

A beat.

"But he's about to."

Kael's silver gaze locked onto hers.

Measuring.

Calculating.

The pieces shifting—clicking—falling into place.

Then, his voice—low. Lethal.

"We leave tonight."

Then with a pause. Kael's silver eyes flickered toward James, his voice cool, clipped, absolute.

"Take them to the tower."

James didn't hesitate. Didn't ask questions. Just nodded once, already moving.

"Understood."

But Leah—Leah didn't move.

Her pulse still thrummed from the weight of what she'd just admitted.

Jace Solen. Her cousin.

And she was about to walk into his world and upend everything.

Ava folded her arms, shooting Kael a sharp look. "And what about you?"

Kael adjusted his cuff, his movements measured, precise.

"I have a meeting."

Leah's gaze snapped to him, sharp. "With who?"

Kael's silver eyes met hers.

Unblinking. Steady.

"With my usual table of sharks."

A pause.

A beat.

Then, smooth as glass:

"And my sister."

Leah exhaled slowly, something coiling tight in her chest.

Kael was walking into enemy ground.

And he knew it.

Ava let out a slow whistle. "Damn. Big night for the Voss family, huh?"

Kael's voice was dry. "Every night is a big night when your family hates you."

James stepped forward, his voice even. "How do you want to play this?"

Kael tilted his head slightly.

Then, voice cold and surgical:

"Business as usual."

Ava arched a brow. "You're just gonna stroll in there and pretend your sister isn't actively trying to screw you out of an Ark?"

Kael's lips curled—not a smile, not exactly.

Something colder. Sharper.

"Oh, she knows."

His silver eyes flickered with something dark, calculating.

"She's just waiting to see how I react."

Leah's fingers curled slightly, instinct humming in her veins. "And how are you going to react?"

Kael's gaze held hers.

Unmoving. Unshaken.

Then, his voice—low, smooth, edged like a blade.

"That depends entirely on her."

James checked his watch. "We're out of time."

Kael nodded once, stepping back, adjusting his cuffs. "Then let's not keep anyone waiting. I'll be back quickly."

His silver eyes flicked back to Leah—one last time—before he turned away.

And just like that, the game was in motion.

Kael doors to the executive boardroom hissed open, and he walked in like he owned the room.

Because he did.

The air was thick with wealth and expectation, the scent of cigar smoke barely masked by the state-of-the-art air purifiers. The walls—black steel and glass—reflected nothing but power, and the men and women seated around the table lived for it.

They were old money and new predators, a mix of corporate elites, government-sanctioned industrialists, and ex-military turned billionaires.

And every single one of them was watching him.

Kael didn't sit.

He placed both hands on the edge of the table and leaned in slightly, silver eyes scanning the room with calm precision.

His Alphas—the ones smart enough to know that power came from instinct first, intelligence second—stiffened.

They smelled it.

The shift. The change.

Something was coming.

And Kael was already ahead of it.

The Betas?

They didn't smell it.

They resisted it.

They didn't like change.

They liked control.

Which was why they were about to lose.

"Let's get started," Kael said, his voice smooth and lethal.

The chairman, an older Beta with more wealth than vision, cleared his throat.

"We have the quarterly projections, the—"

Kael lifted a hand.

"We're not here for projections."

A beat.

Silence.

Then, coolly—"We're here to move."

A flick of his wrist, and the central display flashed to life.

Numbers. Ledgers. Logistics.

Billions in assets.

And all of it—in motion.

The Betas stiffened.

The Alphas leaned forward.

One of the CFOs—Beta, predictable— frowned. "Voss, what the hell is this? You're liquidating?"

Kael's silver eyes didn't so much as flicker.

"I'm transferring."

A pause.

Then, low, absolute:

"And I'm taking delivery."

The tension snapped tight.

Across the table, his oldest rival, a Beta industrialist named Rourke, scoffed.

"You can't just—"

Kael's head tilted, silver gaze slicing through him.

"I can. I did. It's already happening. NOW."

The screens updated.

Real-time shipments.

Security teams dispatched.

Stockpiles being emptied, rerouted, redirected.

The first move in a war.

And Kael had already made it.

"Jesus Christ," someone muttered.

Rourke's face had gone red.

"You—You don't have clearance to pull this kind of transfer without—"

Kael's voice cut sharp and effortless:

"I have executive authority. Which I'm using."

He straightened, rolling his cuffs back with precise control.

"By the end of today, all liquid and physical assets tied to my holdings will be transferred to secure locations under my direct oversight."

His silver eyes flicked across the room, cold and final.

"You will comply."

A sharp, electric silence.

Then—

An Alpha seated near the end of the table let out a low, satisfied exhale.

He understood.

Kael was pulling out.

Not losing.

Leaving.

And whoever moved first?

Won.

Rourke, still pale and fuming, leaned forward. "This is reckless."

Kael's lips curled.

"Reckless would be waiting."

Another Beta shook his head. "There are protocols—there are limitations—"

Kael exhaled, slow and patient.

Then, softly:

"There were."

A pause.

Then, absolute:

"Not anymore."

The air thickened.

The Alphas felt it.

They knew.

Kael was leaving without an explanation.

And he wasn't coming back.

The older Betas, the ones who had built their wealth on old structures, who had believed that Mars was just another stock option, sat frozen.

Kael's next words buried them.

"I suggest you follow my lead."

A flick of his wrist—

Transfer authorizations locked.

Security teams deployed.

Everything he owned?

His. And his alone.

The meeting was over.

Kael turned without another word, the doors hissing open before him.

And as he strode out—

The first Alpha to rise from the table followed.

Then another.

Then another.

The Betas?

They sat still. Unable to understand the situation, the options available. The choice opening before them.

So they lost.