Third person's POV
The Black Thorn Pack had withstood the test of time for centuries, and its resilience was not solely due to its business acumen.
Derek's position was underpinned by the support of the royal wolf pack. Without it, his pack would have crumbled long ago.
Even with his vast wealth, Derek would be vulnerable without the protection of this powerful backing.
Derek's actions now threatened to upset the interests of many factions, which could severely impact his future and provide his rivals with an opportunity to strike.
From a rational and strategic perspective, this was far from a wise move.
However, what other options did he have?
His beloved wife and child were in the clutches of others, and every path to rescue them was fraught with obstacles.
In his heart, this was the most direct and only viable way to save Tabitha.
Derek's heart was filled with helplessness and determination.
He let out a soft sigh, his voice tinged with bitterness, "I have no way to turn back now."
Forrest was different from Rolf and Alvin. He had always lurked in the shadows, quietly handling various thorny issues for Derek, rarely appearing in public.
His presence here signaled that Derek's situation was increasingly perilous, like walking on the edge of a cliff, where one misstep could lead to disaster.
"Alpha Derek..." Forrest hesitated, his eyes revealing his concern.
"Instruct all the brothers on the ship to prepare for the worst," Derek's tone was firm and cold, as if he was issuing a command that concerned life and death.
Forrest did not hesitate. He knelt on one knee, his posture upright, his gaze resolute as he looked at Derek, his voice loud and strong, "Yes, Alpha Derek."
He was well aware that embarking on this thorny path meant confronting multiple powerful forces head-on.
The most prudent solution would have been to negotiate with the mastermind behind the scenes, the ship's owner, to secure their release.
However, the owner was not on the ship at the moment, and all attempts to contact him had failed.
Matilda, driven by personal grudges, was adamant about not settling the matter privately.
If this situation escalated, it would disrupt the balance of power among various factions, like casting a boulder into a tranquil lake.
The ripples would spread across the entire lake, potentially causing the entire structure of power to collapse like a falling tower.
Derek would undoubtedly become the target of all factions, hunted and besieged.
He was well aware of the severe consequences of using force to intervene, but for Tabitha, he had cast all his concerns aside.
Even if it meant gambling with his hard-earned future, he was willing to risk it all.
Derek slowly put on his full-face mask again, his eyes beneath it radiating a cold determination. "Let's go."
Meanwhile, in the backstage of the auction venue, Matilda was watching Tabitha being wheeled onto the stage.
Her eyes gleamed with a mad and twisted gleam, as if she was admiring an artwork that would soon bring her immense satisfaction in revenge.
"Has Wilmot arrived yet?" Matilda turned to ask Dalton, the manager beside her, her tone carrying a hint of eagerness and anticipation.
Dalton shook his head slightly, replying with utmost respect, "Not yet."
"Keep an eye out for him. If he comes, have someone pass on a message to him," Matilda ordered.
"Yes, ma'am," Dalton quickly agreed.
He glanced at Matilda's crazed expression and felt an inexplicable sense of unease welling up inside him.
In the privacy of his own space, he quietly took out his phone and dialed a mysterious number.
After three rings, a deep, magnetic voice came from the other end, "Speaking."
"Boss, there's something I'd like to report to you..." He spoke cautiously, beads of sweat appearing on his forehead.
The man on the other end of the line was shrouded in deep darkness, with a large holographic projection screen in front of him.
The screen was divided into many small images, all from surveillance cameras in various parts of the ship.
Each image was clear and lifelike, as if capturing every movement on the ship.
The man listened quietly to Dalton's detailed account, his expression remaining calm and composed, as if everything was going according to plan.
He raised his head slightly and said softly, "Let her do as she pleases."
"What?" Dalton was taken aback. He never expected his boss not only to condone Matilda's madness but to support it.
For a moment, he wondered if he had heard wrong.
The man slowly got up, his movements graceful and unhurried.
He casually picked up a glass of red wine and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window.
Through the spotless glass, the vast view outside was visible.
The man gazed quietly at the scenery, his tall and straight figure reflected in the window, merging with the world outside.
Standing high above, like a deity above the clouds, he observed the changes in the world with a detached gaze.
"I said—let her do it! Understood?" The man's voice rose slightly, his tone carrying an undeniable authority.
Dalton, despite the distance, could feel the powerful aura emanating from the other end of the line, a chill running down his spine as if gripped by an invisible hand.
"Yes, I understand, boss," Dalton replied fearfully.
Then, the call ended.
The man turned and walked with steady steps towards a large sand table in the room.
On the table, a complex tower was meticulously assembled from Lego bricks.
The man stood in front of the sand table, squinting his eyes as he stared at the tower. After a moment, he slowly poured the red wine from his glass over the top of the tower.
The crimson liquid, like blood, flowed down the structure, drop by drop, landing on the sand table with a "Tick! Tick!" sound.
The scarlet fluid spread gradually, staining everything around it red as if foreshadowing an imminent bloody and brutal storm.