MING LEBON HAD ended his conversation with Pax Marshall an hour earlier without learning anything about why the Marshall Group had suddenly sold all its stocks in businesses associated with LeBon Enterprises. The arrogant young telepath who’d seized the reins of the Marshall empire had insisted the move was simply “part of the family’s long-term business plan.”
But Ming had heard whispers from his spies within the Marshall Group that Pax Marshall was pursuing a lucrative contract with the SnowDancer Wolves. That could not be a coincidence.
He was sending a message ordering one of those spies to get him more details when he received a letter with the official Trinity seal. It stated that the entire body of signatories had voted on his application to join. Despite the backroom deals he’d made, that vote hadn’t come down in his favor.
He crushed the letter in his hand. “SnowDancer.”
Ming wasn’t used to being so blatantly blocked from anything: the majority of people were too scared of him to attempt it.
He also wasn’t about to allow the wolves to push him into a situation where he’d lose face in front of the entire world. The emotions didn’t matter to him, but the impact on his power base could be catastrophic. Already, he could visualize the flow-on effect of this single damning rejection, see the missed opportunities, the chipping away at his financial alliances.
Throwing the crumpled-up letter in the trash, he decided that if SnowDancer and its allies wanted a war, they’d get one. Ming was a combat telepath but he was also a master at strategy. No one could beat him on that field of battle. Certainly not wolves driven by a feral desire for vengeance.
“Send me the draft of my proposal,” he said to his aide.
He’d finalize that proposal, then, when the time was right, send it to all parties, including the wolves and the Arrows. He wouldn’t do this by stealth. No, he wanted the world watching and witnessing the fall of Trinity.