CHAPTER 3

Jessa’s mouth was going to be the death of me. She had a way of blurting out the truth at the exact moment it needed to stay buried, and in a heartbeat, the heavy, golden gaze of Grant Walker shifted. He didn’t just look at me; he cataloged me.

Fortunately, his silence was as sharp as his stare. He gave a single, curt nod and swept out of the Pacific Crest Resort with his entourage, leaving a trail of freezing air in his wake.

Once the pressure of his presence lifted, Jessa leaned in, her face twisted with a mix of curiosity and disappointment. "Wait, why was he asking about your quarters? I thought he was about to drop some heavy pack business on us, but he just... left."

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. It felt like a stay of execution. My voice came out as a scorched rasp. "The VTN ROOM has a vantage point of the moon-ritual grounds. He probably just wants the suite for himself."

"That’s it?"

"He’s the Alpha of Westline Holdings, Jessa. He doesn’t do small talk with subordinates."

Jessa pouted, clearly unconvinced. "I bet a beast like that is a monster in the dark. With those shoulders and that height, I’d wager his 'inner wolf' is quite substantial."

My face burned. I wanted to crawl into a hole. 'Substantial' didn't even cover it. I couldn't help but recall the weight of him, the sheer endurance of an Alpha who didn't know the meaning of the word 'stop' until the sun began to bleed into the horizon.

Stop it, Mars, I scolded myself. Thinking like that is how you get caught.

Our reprieve ended when Howard Pierce shuffled into the lobby. Howard was a man whose hairline had retreated faster than his courage in a board meeting. He snatched the ledger from my hand, his tone sharp with the stress of the failing territorial bonds. "The Council has tightened the borders on these investments. If we can't secure more backing for this shifter-contract, consider your winter bonuses dead in the water!"

I kept my head down, but Jessa flashed him a look of pure venom. It was Howard who had over-leveraged our pack’s assets in the first place, yet here he was, barking at us.

Suddenly, Howard’s eyes narrowed as he looked at me, his expression shifting from irritation to a greasy sort of calculation. "Mars... you were raised in Havencrest, weren't you?"

"Yes, sir. Havencrest in Silverwood."

"Grant Walker is a Havencrest wolf too," Howard said, his voice dropping into a faux-confidential whisper. "I’ve managed to secure a private audience with him tonight. I want you there. Use those shared pack roots to feel out his intentions. See if he's going to squeeze us or help us."

The suggestion sent a literal shiver down my spine. "Sir, I’m just an analyst. I don't think the Alpha of Westline cares for my history."

"You’ll be at the same table, drinking the same ale. You’ll find a way to talk. It’s settled. Wear something that doesn't look like you slept in a ditch. Don't embarrass the pack!"

Night fell over Silverwood, and after a grueling afternoon of being ignored by the high-ranking officials at Westline Holdings, Howard forced me toward the private dining hall. He must have traded something valuable, because Grant Walker was actually there, waiting.

When I stepped into the room, my heart nearly stopped. Grant had shed his formal coat, draped carelessly over a chair. His white shirt was unfastened at the throat, revealing the pale skin of his chest and the sharp line of his jaw. He was wearing gold-rimmed lenses as he looked over a scroll, looking every bit the cold, disciplined intellectual—a far cry from the primal force I’d met the night before.

There were only four of us: Howard, Grant, his silent secretary, and me.

Howard didn't miss a beat. He pulled out the chair directly to Grant’s right—the seat of honor, or in my case, the hot seat. "Sit here, Mars. Keep our host company."

I stood there, stiff as a board, my pulse thundering in my ears. But before I could even pull the chair out, Grant’s voice sliced through the room like a silver blade.

"I was under the impression Mars was an analyst," Grant said, not even looking up from his scroll. "Has he been demoted to a party host for the evening?"