Nash settled into his leather chair, fingers drumming against the mahogany desk as satisfaction coursed through him. His initial strategy had worked flawlessly. Weeks had passed since Tiara approached her father, successfully planting seeds of suspicion about Theodore's alleged dabbling in forbidden magic.
The whispers were spreading, but Nash needed more than mere rumors. He required a distraction significant enough to pull Theodore's attention away from the brewing conspiracy. Only when the Mistwood Alpha was focused elsewhere could Nash execute his true plan.
He reached for his phone and dialed Tiara's father with calculated courtesy. "I'd prefer to meet at your territory rather than mine. Your allied Alphas can reach you more easily from their locations."
"Of course, son!" came the enthusiastic reply. "Always thinking strategically."
The call ended, and Nash's lips curved into a cold smile. "Naive fool."
