The Omega Who Rose from the Ashes: The Alpha's Regret

Bradley’s POV

The private jet cut through the clouds, a silver arrow against the endless blue. Bradley stared out the window, but his mind wasn’t on the approaching cityscape. It was on Trishelle - on the way her body felt pressed against his, on the sound of her breathless moans echoing in his memory. He shifted in his leather seat, his body tightening with a desire that had become a constant ache since he’d left her side. The distance between them felt like a physical wound.

Sam sat opposite him, his presence a solid reassurance, though Bradley wished he could have left his head of security with his mate. The protective instinct gnawed at him constantly. But Samuel was there, watching over her. And then there was Martha, already typing away on her tablet, arranging and rearranging his schedule with the precision of a military commander.

Bradley had decided to take the next two weeks to handle everything that required his physical presence. He video-chatted with Trishelle every day, the desire for her almost a distraction from his work - though seeing her face made the separation bearable. He’d scheduled the call during her last doctor’s visit, and hearing the rapid thump-thump-thump of his pup’s heartbeat had made his eyes burn with unexpected emotion. The sound had pierced through all his carefully constructed walls. Trishelle had sent him a recording, and now the sound served as his lullaby every night, a reminder of what he was fighting for, what he was building.

He also kept in touch with James and Goldmoon. He’d worried that his pack members would be angry or at least disappointed by his sudden departure, but they’d supported him without hesitation, holding things together in his absence. He was surprised that Samuel had stepped up under Sam’s guidance, proving himself more capable than Bradley had ever given him credit for. The young wolf had a natural leadership quality that had gone unnoticed. With his aunt offering support and advice, Bradley knew he should offer Samuel a proper position when he returned. He was sure Trishelle would love that - she’d always had a soft spot for the underdog.

Martha glanced up, noticing his smile, and cleared her throat. "Sir, we should be there in the next half hour. I’ve arranged your schedule to visit a few of the other packs as well as some of the ongoing smaller projects we have in the area."

Bradley nodded and checked his work calendar, which synced to Martha’s. He gave an approving nod, impressed as always by her efficiency. Martha pushed up her glasses before returning to her work, her fingers flying across the screen. He got up and crossed the small corridor to Sam for an update on what they could expect, any possible problems, and discussed escape routes in case his opponent tried something unsavory. One could never be too careful with men like Marcus Bloom.

Marcus Bloom. The name sounded like it should belong to a nice old man who tended his garden and complained about his arthritis. In reality, Marcus was one of the most ruthless mafia bosses in the eastern area. He’d taken over the gang from his uncle - whom rumors said he’d killed himself - and had increased his membership fivold in the last three years. The man was ambitious, dangerous, and utterly without conscience. He was trying to put on a clean appearance by running for city councilman, but many knew his true colors. He had his hands in many parts of the city, and corruption followed him like a shadow. Thankfully, Bradley knew just how to deal with this and had many contingency plans in place even before he’d made this deal. He hadn’t built his empire by being unprepared.

Sam had asked him many times why he didn’t choose somewhere else, but this city was known for being the place many shifters went when they didn’t have anywhere else to go. He knew what that felt like - after his father’s death, before Councilwoman Seers had taken him in, this was one of the places he’d planned to run to. The memory still stung, even after all these years. Bradley hoped that with his new building, he could provide job security to his kind, maybe give them the feeling of having a pack, of having a home. Every shifter deserved that much.

The seatbelt sign came on as the pilot began their descent. Within the hour, Bradley was strolling through the airport, his guards around him on high alert. It would not be beyond Marcus to attempt an assassination - the man had done worse for less. They made it to their cars and took off, security detail in front and behind them, heading straight to the lawyer’s office inside the City Council’s building. A meeting was scheduled to deal with this matter once and for all.

Pulling up in front of the grey building, Sam and Martha flanked Bradley as they headed inside. The guy at the counter gave them directions, barely looking up from his phone. They made their way to the elevator, the tension building with each floor they ascended. Whisked up to the eighth floor, they headed to room 805, and with a knock, the trio entered, followed by two guards. Two more stayed outside, and the last six stationed themselves in the lobby and around the building. Bradley held a chair for Martha before he and Sam settled in, the leather creaking beneath them. The meeting had been shifted to the conference room, and Bradley hid a smile. Marcus had his guards, and there were three people at the head of the table. If there were any truth to Marcus’s claims, Bradley would have felt nervous. Instead, he whispered something to Sam, who nodded and stood up. He went to the tiny woman in the corner, who was there to take notes of today’s meeting, and asked her something. With a nod, she got up to do Sam’s bidding.

Marcus smiled, feeling like he had already won before the battle even began. The smugness radiated off him in waves. That piece of property was directly in the middle of the city and would make a great headquarters for his "business." Bradley could practically see the dollar signs in the man’s eyes.

"Well, Mr. CEO, let’s hear your excuses for your poor treatment of your staff and the unsafe environment of your workers," Marcus drawled, his voice dripping with false concern. He slid a folder across the table, the papers spilling out dramatically. Bradley reached for it, lifting a few sheets to read the utter rubbish presented as evidence. He found a list of names, a petition of his so-called workers supporting the claims of a hazardous work environment. Bradley chuckled and looked to Martha, who reached out and pulled out a list from her files with practiced ease. Bradley gave it to Sam, who gave it to the man at the head of the table. It was Chris Collins, the current City Councilmember, who had a great reputation for equality and justice. The other two were in charge of the Workers’ Compensation Board and City Engineering.

"Gentlemen," Bradley began, his voice calm and steady, each word measured, "I thank you for taking the time to see me to address this matter. In your hands is the list of all the workers and contractors I have in my employ in regard to this project. If you compare it to the list Mr. Bloom has provided, you would find various discrepancies. Either the names are different, the signatures don’t match, or the person simply does not exist." He paused, letting that sink in. "Since I believe in fair work for fair pay, all employees are interviewed, and their information is taken and verified."

He leaned forward slightly, his gaze sweeping across the room, making eye contact with each board member. "Now, if you would kindly look at the projection screen, my lovely secretary has some information to share that I think you gentlemen would find very interesting."

With a click of her keyboard, the screen began showing documents and images, with Bradley explaining each one in detail. Between Martha and Sam, they could give Sherlock Holmes a run for his money. They’d found evidence of Marcus’s bribes, corruption, and falsification of documents. Of course, there were no pictures of Marcus himself - the man was too smart for that - but there were images of many of his close underlings that he used to do his dirty jobs. The evidence was damning, irrefutable.

At the end of the presentation, Bradley glanced at Marcus, and he could see how much the man wanted to strangle him, just as he was doing to his pen. The veins in his neck looked like they would pop any minute, his face turning an alarming shade of red. Mr. Collins cleared his throat and asked everyone to step outside as they discussed the matter, but Bradley knew he had won. The satisfaction was sweet. Any other attempt to defame him would only make Marcus look like a fool.

They were called back in after fifteen minutes that felt like seconds. Bradley was declared free from the charges, while Marcus received a scolding that barely masked the board’s suspicion of him. Marcus claimed that those men just wanted him to have the property and went behind his back, his voice tight with barely controlled rage. Bradley knew that Marcus had at least one of those men in his back pocket, and he linked Sam to find out who it was and what leverage Marcus had on him. Knowledge was power, and Bradley intended to have all of it.

With a slight bow, Bradley thanked the board and left, glad that that was over. The tension drained from his shoulders as they exited the building. He headed to the car and, without missing a beat, Martha launched into details of his next meeting, her voice a familiar rhythm. Bradley sighed, leaning his head back against the seat, closing his eyes for the few minutes of rest he could get. Man, it’s going to be crazy the next couple of days. But every moment brought him closer to finishing here, closer to returning home to Trishelle and their pup. That thought alone made it all worthwhile.

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