"That's worth considering."
Marcus Hale's senior gave Rowan Mercer a measured nod after hearing Evan Clarke's offer. Iron Front had risen fast over the past decade. It didn't yet have the deep roots of families like the Wards, but no one could deny its momentum or reputation. It protected its people. It played the long game. And most importantly, it had resources.
If Rowan joined Iron Front, Evan's father would stand between him and the Ward family. Ben Ward was still alive. Rowan's insults, while public, could be brushed off as youthful arrogance. No one would start an outright war over that, especially not against Iron Front.
White Cloud simply couldn't offer the same shield. It was respected, yes, but small. Isolated. Focused inward. Against a family like the Wards, it lacked leverage.
Rowan understood all of this instantly.
"That said," Rowan added lightly, "I'd like the chance to speak with your chairman directly."
The thought had already formed.
Erasing the Ward patriarch wouldn't be difficult. But erasing the Ward family entirely would be messy, inefficient, and time-consuming. Rowan had no interest in prolonged cleanup.
What he needed was infrastructure. A local power with reach, adaptability, and the ability to handle consequences without being handheld. Not a monastery. Not a holy institution. Not a government bureau.
A business empire.
Businessmen understood incentives. They adjusted quickly. They solved problems without being asked how.
Iron Front fit.
Evan's eyes lit up immediately. "Perfect timing. My father just went to deal with the Wards. Let's head to our assigned quarters and wait."
Minutes later, Rowan found himself facing Iron Front's chairman.
The man looked exactly like a corporate executive. Half-gray hair. Glasses. Tailored suit. Calm smile that never quite reached the eyes.
"Impressive," the chairman said warmly, clasping Rowan's hand. "Truly impressive. Evan told me everything. Join Iron Front, and I'll personally make sure the Ward family backs off. I've already spoken to their patriarch."
Rowan raised an eyebrow. "Already?"
"Negotiations went smoothly," the man replied without hesitation. "Old grudges are just that. Old. There's no reason we can't cooperate going forward."
Evan and his sister exchanged startled looks. This outcome clearly hadn't been what they expected.
Rowan, however, studied the man more closely.
So he could swallow blood when necessary.
Interesting.
"To be clear," the chairman continued, his tone pleasant, "your strength is impressive, but what truly interests me is your background. Your family's business network rivals my own. If we cooperate, Iron Front's influence in the outside world would multiply."
He was honest enough to think this was flattering.
Rowan said nothing.
The chairman wasn't wrong, but he was only seeing half the picture. Strength could be cultivated. Time could fix that. Rowan's value wasn't just potential. It was inevitability.
And the chairman wasn't naïve. He knew the Wards weren't harmless. He also knew appearances mattered. Whatever had just been agreed upon wasn't peace. It was postponement.
Two predators smiling over a table, both planning to strike first.
Rowan liked that.
"I'll join Iron Front," Rowan said calmly. "But before that, I want to give you a gift."
The chairman's smile sharpened. "A gift?"
"The Ward family," Rowan replied.
Silence fell.
For the first time since Rowan entered the room, the chairman's expression stiffened.
"That's not a joke you should make lightly," he said carefully. "You've crossed them, yes, but they're far deeper than Ben Ward. You've seen only the surface."
Rowan met his gaze without blinking.
"That surface is already cracking," Rowan said. "I'm offering you what's underneath."
The chairman studied him in silence, reassessing.
This wasn't bravado.
This was a wager.