First Day

LAURA

“So,” Marcus said, walking backwards in front of me like an oversized child, “let’s talk about duties.”

I didn’t answer. I just kept walking, arms crossed.

He grinned. “First, you carry my stuff. But not like carry carry. Just in case I suddenly don’t want to hold it anymore. Second—if I say I’m in danger, you treat it like an emergency. Even if it’s just a spider.”

I blinked. “Are you serious?”

Marcus gasped dramatically. “Deadly. Spiders are fast. Sneaky. Eight-legged nightmares.”

I stopped walking. “You dragged me away from a high-level assignment for spider patrol?”

He ignored me, continuing like he was reading from a mental scroll. “Third, you must always tell me if my hair looks weird. Or if I’ve got anything in my teeth. Loyalty, you know?”

I stared at him, deadpan. “You want a bodyguard or a mirror?”

He snapped his fingers. “That’s the spirit! Snarky but professional. I like it.”

I clenched my jaw.

I infiltrated this pack to assassinate a high-ranking Alpha. Not babysit a man-child with a gummy bear addiction and an ego louder than a war horn. The plan is unraveling. Fast.

Marcus glanced at me sideways, still smiling. “You’re doing that thing again.”

“What thing?”

“That scary quiet. Feels like you’re imagining setting me on fire.”

“I am.”

We stopped in front of a sleek black door. He pointed at it like he was giving me a grand prize.

“This one’s yours,” he said cheerfully. “Mine’s just across the hall.”

I blinked slowly.

Of course it is.

He leaned against his own doorframe, arms crossed. “Convenient, right? For all your emotional support needs. You can check on me whenever you feel like I might be spiraling.”

I gave him a flat look. “You mean, hourly?”

He grinned, unbothered. “Exactly.”

I turned back to the room he claimed was mine. Standard quarters. Clean. Decent size. Definitely not a prison.

But also—

Too far.

Too far from the Alpha wing. Too far from Sebastian.

The one I came here for.

The one I need to watch.

This was not the plan.

I was supposed to stay close. Quietly observe. Find his weaknesses. Strike when the time was right.

Instead, I’m babysitting his clown of a brother and living in a hallway of chaos.

Perfect.

Marcus leaned on the wall beside my door, arms crossed like he had all the time in the world.

“I don’t snore, by the way,” he said casually.

“Great,” I muttered, unlocking the door. “Now I know what to look forward to when I throw something at the wall at 2 a.m.”

He gasped, mock-offended. “Is that how you treat your emotionally fragile client?”

“You’re not fragile,” I said, stepping into the room. “You’re annoying. There’s a difference.”

Marcus followed just to the edge of the doorway, peeking in. “Nice space, right? Not too big, not too small. Just enough for someone like you to hide your scary weapons and emotionally detached personality.”

I turned to glare at him. “You’re one sentence away from getting tased.”

He raised his hands. “Wow. We’ve got jokes. I like this dynamic.”

“I’m not joking.”

He grinned even wider. “Even better.”

I sighed and dropped my duffel on the bed. “Are you going to stand there all day or are you going to explain what exactly you need protection from?”

He tilted his head like he had to actually think about it. “Hmm. Myself. Boredom. Rabid fans. Possibly a ghost in the west wing. Oh—and falling off the roof when I try to skateboard again.”

“Again?”

“Yeah. Broke three ribs last time.”

I stared at him.

He winked. “Totally worth it.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, here you are—my new emotional support wolf.”

I closed my eyes briefly, wondering what I did in my past life to deserve this level of punishment.

I met his gaze without flinching. “No. I finish what I start.”

He blinked at that—just a flicker of something behind the playfulness. Curiosity. Or maybe suspicion.

“Good,” he said. “I like finishers.”

Then he straightened and gave me a lazy two-fingered salute. “Orientation starts tomorrow. My schedule is chaos. You’ll figure it out. I believe in you, assassin Barbie.”

“I will shove you off that roof,” I muttered as he walked away.

“Can’t wait,” he called over his shoulder.

The door clicked shut.

I sat on the bed, jaw tight.

This is going to be hell.

—

I was up before sunrise.

Old habit.

Years of living with a target on my back had trained my body to rise early, move quietly, and stay alert. Even in the safety of a pack house—even surrounded by locked doors and werewolves twice my size—I didn’t trust walls to protect me.

I dressed in black tactical gear, pulled my hair into a neat braid, and strapped the knife to my boot. Just in case.

I knocked once.

No answer.

I knocked again, louder this time.

Still nothing.

I inhaled deeply and opened the door.

Marcus was sprawled across the bed, half-buried in sheets, one leg hanging off the side like a dead animal. A smoothie cup—probably yesterday’s—sat forgotten on the nightstand.

He was snoring. Loudly.

I walked to the foot of the bed, crossed my arms, and spoke clearly.

“Mr. Marcus. You have scheduled duties in twenty minutes.”

He groaned into the pillow.

“Rise. Now.”

“Gods, you sound like Sebastian,” he mumbled without lifting his head. “Except you’re prettier. And scarier.”

“Ten minutes,” I said, turning toward the door. “If you’re not up, I’m dragging you out by the leg.”

That finally got him moving.

—

Ten minutes later, he was dressed—messily—and trailing behind me with a coffee in one hand and a half-eaten granola bar in the other.

“You’re intense in the mornings,” he said, sipping loudly. “Ever tried yoga? It changed my life.”

I ignored him and kept walking.

The training grounds were already buzzing. Several bodyguards stood in formation—most of them clean-cut, disciplined, and twice my size. They fell quiet when Marcus and I approached.

He raised his coffee cup like a toast. “Morning, soldiers.”

A few nodded back stiffly. No one smiled.

I stood to the side, arms behind my back, eyes forward—like I was trained to do. I didn’t need to win them over. I just needed to do my job.

Marcus clapped once, loud and unnecessary. “Alright, team, this is Raine. She’s my new personal guard. Try not to fall in love with her. It’s unprofessional.”

I gave a small, controlled nod.

The others exchanged glances. I saw doubt in their eyes. Judgment. One of them—an older guy with a knife scar across his jaw—spoke first.

“She’s the rogue who got reassigned from Alpha Sebastian?”

Marcus grinned. “Yup. And before anyone asks—yes, she could probably kill me in two seconds flat.”

“Three,” I said, calmly.

He turned to me, eyes wide. “Wow. You do joke. That was adorable. Write that down, someone.”

“I’m not joking.”

A few snorts came from the group.

Marcus kept smiling. “Anyway, she’ll be shadowing me from now on. Meetings, errands, surprise existential crises. You know—normal Alpha stuff.”

Another guard frowned. “Do you really need a bodyguard?”

Marcus took a sip of his coffee, smug. “Mentally? Yes. Physically? Also yes. Spiritually? Definitely.”

They stared.

He pointed a thumb toward me. “She’s not just here to keep me safe. She’s here because she’s damn good at what she does. You saw the footage, didn’t you?”

There was a pause. Then, someone muttered, “She took down Miller in under a minute.”

Marcus’s grin widened. “Exactly. And she does it all with that charming murder face. Look at it. Pure intimidation.”

I said nothing.

Oh, God… This man acts like a little boy—but, isn't he?

A spoiled, overgrown child wrapped in muscle, privilege, and a grin that never shuts up. I didn’t know whether to punch him or pity him.

Then the atmosphere shifted.

A chill rolled over the courtyard like a silent wind. Heads snapped toward the entrance.

Sebastian walked in.

Instantly, everyone bowed—low, respectful, automatic.

Everyone except Marcus.

He kept sipping from his coffee like nothing had happened. Like his Alpha brother didn’t just step into the room with the authority of a storm wrapped in a suit.

Typical.

Sebastian’s presence was colder than before. Controlled. That same unreadable expression masked everything beneath the surface. His gaze scanned the crowd, pausing briefly when it landed on me.

I couldn’t help it—I stared.

Just for a second too long.

Those eyes.

Gray. Sharp. A mirror of a memory I’d buried in blood.

Sebastian looked away without acknowledgment. The moment broke.

“Proceed,” he said, voice crisp. “I’m here to observe.”

I turned my focus back forward, jaw tight.

Stay in control, Laura.

You’re not here to stare at ghosts.

You're here to kill one.

Marcus caught me staring at Sebastian—his sharp eyes following my gaze without missing a beat. He smirked and nudged me. “Yeah, you’ve got it bad for the big bro, huh?”

Marcus caught Sebastian’s eye and said with a playful tone, “Hey, I’ve got to head out.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. “Where to?”

Marcus shrugged with a grin. “Nowhere you need to worry about, nerd.”

Sebastian just shook his head with a small smile and said, “Alright. Don’t get into too much trouble.”

“Let's go, assassin barbie!”

God, damn it!