die

ld, cramped room, prying up the loose plank beneath the narrow cot. My fingers brushed the cold metal of a faded tin box. Inside

The Pack disg

ter stood there, flanked by two burly she-wolf maids. Her eyes locked onto the tin box. "Take

lunged, her han

msy grab, caught her wrist, and twisted it into a brutal, bone-straining joint lo

asped, ste

out my phone with my free hand and brought up th

ed the screen toward Clotilde. "Any infringement on my personal property is a direct provoca

my unyielding grip on her maid. She couldn't comprehend

s," Clotilde spat, her voice trembling with ve

threat, and walked past them with

the exit, the sound of Luna Victoria's vo

ed into her phone, speaking to another Pack's Luna. "She might even be a

I pulled out my phone, hit the record button, and captured fifteen seconds of her venomous slande

e, the foyer was thick with the oppressive

eneath his skin, furious and frustrated after three weeks of failing to find his mysterious sav

ripping with ice. "Did you go back just

the box. I instinctively

d clamped down hard

ap

as so intense, so overwhelmingly intimate, that my carefully constructed mask shattered. I snapped my head up, glaring at him. T

. The air between us crackled, heavy and breathless. I could almost h

y shoulders and forcing the void back into my eyes. I suffocated my

clenching as his rational mind violently rejected what his Lycan instincts had just screamed at him

e growled, rubbing his t

ried to my suite, locki

ns. I sat at my desk in the dim light and opened my encrypted laptop. The screen bathed my fac

nd targeted Schmidt Industries, specifically the subsidiary managing Clotilde's precious

ock graph plummet, a beautiful, vertical red