A place in the tower

The penthouse atop the Holt Tower smelled of rich cedar, polished stone, and the subtle, intoxicating scent of Xavier’s wolf—sandalwood and winter storm. It was a stark contrast to the cramped, cold apartment Cole had forced me to live in for six agonizing years.

"Your rooms are through the double doors on the left," Xavier said, setting my single suitcase down on the dark marble foyer. His voice was low, carrying that smooth, effortless authority that had always commanded respect. "Josie’s room is adjacent. I’ve had it prepared according to her medical team’s recommendations."

I stood in the center of the vast living room, staring out through the floor-to-ceiling glass at the Hallow Pack territory stretching out beneath us. "This isn't the pack house."

"No," Xavier agreed, stepping up behind me. He didn't touch me, but the heat radiating from his broad chest was a constant, thrumming reminder of his presence. "The pack house is where the elders keep watch, where politics rot the air. Until our wedding in three months, you are not yet Luna. Here, you are safe from their eyes. And from Cole."

At the sound of my ex-husband’s name, my jaw tightened. "Cole thinks he’s won because he forced me to sign those papers. He thinks he discarded me."

"Cole is a fool who traded a dragon for a garden snake," Xavier said darkly. His hand finally settled on the side of my neck, his thumb caressing the soft pulse point behind my ear. I flinched—a quick, involuntary reflex borne out of years of expecting a backhand whenever a male stood too close.

Xavier’s eyes darkened, a flash of pure crimson wolf leaking into his blue irises. But he didn't pull away, nor did he tighten his grip. He simply paused, allowing me to register that he was not Cole. He would never be Cole.

"You don't have to fear me, Gwen," he murmured, his voice softening into a rough whisper. "Never me."

"I don't fear you," I lied, my chest heaving as I looked into his eyes. "I just... I forgot how it feels to have a man stand near me without a fist raised."

Xavier’s breath hitched. For a moment, the raw, brutal power of the Alpha surged around him, threatening to rattle the very glass panes of the penthouse. "If he ever lays a finger on you again, I will tear his throat out with my bare teeth and feed his heart to the rogue packs."

"No," I said, placing my palm flat against his chest, feeling the heavy, rhythmic thud of his heart. "Cole is mine to destroy. You promised me power, Xavier. You promised me revenge."

"And you shall have it," Xavier promised, leaning down to press his lips against my temple. "Every single drop."

That night, after Josie was fast asleep in her plush new bed—surrounded by stuffed animals and state-of-the-art medical monitors—I stood in the doorway of Xavier’s master suite. He was sitting at his grand mahogany desk, reviewing pack border reports, his shirt unbuttoned at the collar, revealing the sharp, muscular line of his collarbones.

He looked up, his dark brows pulling together as he saw me standing there in a silk robe.

"Gwen? Is something wrong with Josie?"

"Josie is fine," I said, walking slowly into the room. I let the silk robe slip from my shoulders, letting it pool onto the hardwood floor. I stood before him in nothing but thin lace, my heart hammering, but my gaze fixed and steady. "Our arrangement includes this, doesn't it?"

Xavier’s eyes tracked down my body, his gaze burning like liquid fire. But instead of the eager hunger I expected, his expression darkened with a strange, heavy sorrow. He stood up from his desk, walking toward me with slow, deliberate steps.

He picked up my robe from the floor and gently wrapped it back around my shoulders, pulling the sash tight around my waist.

"What are you doing?" I asked, confused, my pulse spiking. "I am accepting the trade, Xavier. Power for my body. Protection for my daughter."

"I don't want your body as a down payment on a transaction, Gwen," Xavier said, his hands lingering on my arms, his blue eyes holding mine captive. "I am not buying you. When you come into my bed, it will be because you want me—not because you feel obligated to pay for your daughter's safety."

"Xavier—"

"Go to sleep, Gwen," he whispered, kissing my forehead softly. "We have the Annual Moon Festival in two days. The entire pack will be there. Cole will be there. Save your strength for the wolves."

I walked back to my room, my chest aching with a strange, unfamiliar emotion. But as I laid in the quiet dark, a soft knock came at my balcony door.

I pulled open the curtain. Standing on the ledge, six stories above the ground, was a shadowy figure wearing the crest of the pack’s underground intelligence network—a man I had secretly hired two days ago using the small stash of cash I’d hidden away.

He passed a thick, wax-sealed envelope through a crack in the door.

"The investigation into Cole Holt is complete, Lady Gwendolyn," the shadow whispered. "What we found goes far beyond embezzlement and mistress bills. He is dealing with dark magic... and dark wolves."

My fingers tightened around the envelope. But before I could pull it inside, a distant, terrifying howl echoed through the mountain air—a shadow wolf carrying the smell of dark blood.

And then, the penthouse lights flickered and died, plunging the room into absolute darkness.