Page 1 of Billionaire Wolf Needs a Writer

Chapter 1

STERLING

Up here among the clouds, my executive office was far removed from the noise down on the streets.It was quiet.Too quiet.The kind of quiet that pressed against my eardrums.My phone buzzed against the glass tabletop of my desk, the sound breaking the silence.I picked it up and my stomach tightened at the number on the display.It was the football association president.I didn’t want to answer, but I had no choice.Ignoring him wasn’t an option.

“Sterling Nightfang.”

“Sterling.”The strain in his voice was evident even through the tinny phone speaker.“We need to talk.”

I leaned against my desk, letting the edge of the glass dig into my hip.The pain was a welcome distraction from the dread pooling in my stomach.“Talk, then.”

He paused.“It’s about your family,” he said carefully.“There are rumors circulating.Ones that don’t reflect well on the association or the sport.”

I froze.“What rumors?”

The pause stretched for an eternity.“Your family’s name has come up in association with some damning accusations.”

My blood ran cold.“My family,” I repeated.

“Rumors about their business dealings.Human trafficking, arms smuggling, ties to the mob.”I could practically see him choosing his next words like he was stepping across a minefield.“If any of these allegations gain traction, the association cannot afford to be connected to that kind of scrutiny and scandal.”

The edges of my vision turned red, slowly the room faded away in the crimson haze.Despite the rage in my veins, I kept my voice steady.“Is that a threat?”

“I’m giving you a heads-up, Sterling.You know the association’s stance on this.If your family’s connections become public knowledge, we’ll have no choice but to reevaluate your suitability as an owner.”

My jaw clenched so hard it ached, and I could feel my wolf stirring beneath the surface, ready to lash out.“Reevaluate meaning what, exactly?”

A heavy sigh came through the line.“Meaning you’d be forced to divest.I’m sorry, Sterling, but the association’s reputation is on the line.”

The threat in his words was undeniable.I felt my carefully constructed world begin to fall around me like a house of cards.I forced a slow breath through my nose.“Those rumors are baseless,” I said, though the words tasted bitter on my tongue.“My family’s business has nothing to do with me.I’ve spent my entire career distancing myself from that.”

“I understand that,” the president replied, his tone softening slightly.“But perception is everything.If the media gets hold of this, it won’t matter what’s true.It’ll be a scandal, and the association can’t afford that kind of fallout,” he said.The resignation in his voice made my teeth grind.

“Then control it.”The words came out sharper than I intended.“You’ve buried stories before.”

The phone went quiet, and I could hear the faint sound of his breathing.When he spoke again, it was quieter.“Not like this.Not when it’s your blood tied to organized crime.The association won’t risk the fallout.”

“So that’s it?”I asked.“After everything I’ve built, after all the revenue I’ve brought in and the team I’ve turned around, you’ll throw me out over rumors of my family?”

“It’s not personal,” he said, but the words were hollow.

“The hell it isn’t,” I shot back, my grip tightening on the phone.“You’re telling me my blood is a liability.That’s as personal as it gets.”

“I’m saying you need to get ahead of this, Sterling.Control the narrative before it controls you.If you don’t, the committee will have no choice but to act.”

The line went dead, and I stood there, the phone still pressed to my ear, the silence louder than any words.My chest felt tight.I tossed the phone onto the couch, where it landed with a dull thud, and ran a hand through my hair, tugging at the roots as if the pain could ground me.

For a heartbeat, the silence threatened to drown me, and then the ghost of 80,000 screaming fans rushed in, the phantom scent of grass and sweat clinging like a second skin.I’d given everything to that pitch.It had been my salvation.And now they were going to strip my legacy away with a fucking signature.

My mind flashed back to the last time I’d seen my mother, Violet Nightfang.The memory was bitter, like medicine I was forced to swallow.

Her eyes were cold as she sliced into me one last time.“You’ll never be more than a disappointment.”

And Rafe, always lurking behind her like a shadow, smirked.“Should’ve stayed in your place, brother.”

I walked out that night and never looked back.I built my own life, my own fortune, first on the pitch, then in the boardroom.I clawed my way to the top, building a wall between myself and the Nightfang legacy, brick by brick.But blood had a way of clinging, a stain that wouldn’t wash out.

The phone buzzed again, pulling me from the memory.A text, from an unknown number.

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