Chapter 3

The moans started at ten forty-five.

I checked my watch, then returned to the spreadsheet on my screen. Threat assessment logs. Three months of anonymous communications, each one more pointed than the last.

A feminine gasp echoed through the wall separating my office from Lucian’s.

I gritted my teeth and turned up the volume on my computer, letting the hum of the Lo-fi music I was listening to drown out the sounds next door.

This was my third day at Nightfall Pack headquarters, and the pattern had become depressingly predictable. Lucian arrived at nine, attended meetings until mid-morning, then entertained visitors of the female variety until lunch. The parade of women leaving his office was a rotating cast of beautiful, disheveled she-wolves, each one wearing the same dazed expression.

Yesterday, a redhead in a pencil skirt had stumbled out at eleven-thirty, her blouse buttoned wrong, mascara smudged. She had not noticed me watching from my doorway.

The day before, two blondes had emerged together, giggling and whispering. Their scents had been thick with sex and Alpha pheromones.

Now, the rhythmic thump of furniture against the shared wall made my coffee cup rattle on the desk.

Disgusting.

The man had no shame. No self-control. No concept of professional workplace standards.

I pulled up another email in the threat log, forcing my attention back to the work.

Subject: The Rot Within

“You parade your strength while decay festers in your foundation. The bloodline you prize is poisoned. Soon, everyone will see the truth.”

Sent from an encrypted account. Bounced through three proxy servers. IP addresses traced back to locations outside Nightfall territory. Whoever was behind this knew what they were doing and was not operating from within the pack.

A louder moan penetrated the wall.

I slammed my hands on the desk and stood, grabbing my tablet. I needed coffee. Distance. Anything to escape the audio assault of Lucian’s morning activities.

The break room was on the third floor, far enough away to provide sanctuary.

I took the stairs, passing wolves in business attire who nodded politely. The Nightfall Pack headquarters was impressive, all modern glass and steel architecture blended with traditional pack symbols. Elegant. Powerful. Everything designed to project strength and legacy.

Except for the Alpha Heir who treated his office like a personal brothel.

The break room was empty save for one person. A young man sat at the small table, eating a sandwich while reading something on his phone. He looked up as I entered, offering a friendly nod.

“You’re the new security consultant,” he said. “Aurelia, right?”

“Yes.” I moved to the coffee maker, grateful for a normal interaction.

“Julian.” He set his phone down. “I work in tracking and reconnaissance. Field ops, mostly.”

“Nice to meet you.”

I poured coffee into a mug, black, no sugar. The bitter taste was grounding.

“How are you settling in?” Julian asked. His voice was calm, measured. He wore practical field clothes rather than office attire, and his boots were scuffed from outdoor work.

“Learning the systems. Getting familiar with protocols.”

“And dealing with…” He hesitated, glancing at the ceiling. “The culture here?”

I looked at him over the rim of my mug. “The culture?”

“You know.” He gave a wry smile. “The Alpha Heir’s… habits.”

So I was not the only one who noticed.

“His personal life is not my concern,” I said carefully.

“Right. Of course.” Julian took another bite of his sandwich. “I just meant, some people find the environment here a bit… overwhelming. The constant parade. The lack of discretion.”

I sat across from him. “You disapprove?”

“Not my place to approve or disapprove. I’m just a tracker who does his job and goes home.” He shrugged. “But I will say the distraction level around here gets absurd. Half the female staff spend their days angling for his attention instead of doing actual work.”

“He encourages this?”

“Does he discourage what people do?” Julian leaned back in his chair. “Look, I’ve been here three years. I’ve seen dozens of women throw themselves at him. He accepts what’s offered, enjoys himself, then moves on. Rinse and repeat.”

“Sounds exhausting.”

“For him or for us?” A hint of humor touched Julian’s expression. “I work in the field. I track borders, monitor territory, report threats. Clean. Simple. No drama.”

“Lucky you.”

“What about you?” He studied me with quiet intelligence. “What brings a Crescent Ridge tracker to Nightfall?”

“The Grand Matriarch requested me. Security assessment.”

“The threats.”

I nodded, not elaborating.

“We get a lot of posturing from rival packs,” Julian said. “Border disputes, territory challenges, the usual politics. Most of them are all bark, no bite.”

“These feel different.”

“How so?”

I considered how much to share. Julian seemed straightforward, grounded. Someone who understood field work and tactical thinking.

“The language is too personal. Too focused on bloodline and legacy. This is not about territory. This is about destroying reputation.”

Julian’s expression grew serious. “You think someone’s planning something beyond threats?”

“I think someone wants the Nightfall Pack to look weak. Vulnerable. Whether they act on these threats themselves or just want to create chaos for others to exploit, I do not know yet.”

“Need help with anything? I know the surrounding territories better than most. If you need information about rival packs, their movements, their grudges, I’m happy to share what I know.”

“I might take you up on this.”

“Good.” He finished his sandwich and stood. “I spend most of my time in the field, but I’m here Monday and Thursday afternoons for reports. Find me if you need anything.”

“I appreciate this.”

We sat in companionable silence for a moment, him gathering his things while I scrolled through threat emails on my tablet. The messages all followed a pattern. Vague accusations. References to bloodline and betrayal. Promises of exposure.

But no specifics. No demands. No clear motive beyond damaging the pack’s standing.

“Can I ask what you’re working on right now?” Julian gestured to my tablet.

“Mapping the IP addresses. Trying to trace origin points.”

“Find anything?”

“Multiple locations. All outside our territory. Whoever this is, they’re moving around or using relay points to mask their real location.”

“Smart.” Julian frowned. “Most rival packs are not sophisticated enough for this level of operational security. They’d just send a challenge directly.”

“Exactly. This is someone with resources. Technical knowledge. And patience.”

My phone buzzed. A message from Lucian: Need you in my office. Now.

I stood, draining the last of my coffee.

“Duty calls?”

“Apparently.” I moved toward the door.

“Aurelia?” Julian’s voice stopped me. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re here. We need someone focused on actual security instead of politics.”

“Let’s hope I can deliver.”

I took the stairs back down, steeling myself for whatever awaited.

The hallway outside Lucian’s office was clear. No disheveled women stumbling out. No sounds of pleasure seeping through the door.

I knocked this time.

“Come in.”

He sat behind his desk, fully clothed, reviewing documents. He looked up as I entered, and there was no trace of the playboy from earlier. This was the Alpha Heir in work mode, focused and sharp.

“Close the door.”

I obeyed.

“I received another message this morning.” He slid a printed email across the desk. “Read this.”

I picked up the paper.

Subject: Blood Will Tell

“The heir plays while Rome burns. But fire purifies. Fire reveals. Soon, the false will fall, and the worthy will rise from the ashes. Count your days, Blackwood. Count them carefully.”

My stomach tightened. This was different from the others. More personal. More direct.

“When did this arrive?”

“Six AM. Routed through the same encrypted channels as the others.”

I studied the language. The phrasing. The shift in tone from vague threats to specific targeting.

“This is an escalation.”

“I know.” Lucian leaned back in his chair. “Someone’s getting bolder. Or more desperate.”

“Have you increased security protocols?”

“Yes. But I need your analysis. Your profile of whoever is behind this.” His gaze was intent. “What are we dealing with?”

I read the email again, looking for patterns, for clues hidden in word choice and syntax.

“Someone with a grievance against your pack. Against you personally,” I said slowly. “Someone who sees themselves as righteous. A purifier. They believe the Nightfall Pack is corrupt and you’re the symbol of corruption.”

“Go on.”

“The IP traces all point outside your territory. Different locations each time. This is not internal dissent. This is external attack.” I met his eyes. “Someone from a rival pack with the resources and knowledge to wage a psychological campaign.”

The air in the room shifted. Became heavier.

“Which pack?”

“Too early to say. But the references to bloodline and legacy suggest someone who believes they have a superior claim. Someone who sees your family as illegitimate or unworthy.”

Lucian stood, moved to the window. His shoulders were tense beneath his tailored shirt.

“Find them,” he said quietly. “Before they move from words to action.”

“I’ll need access to your pack’s history. Records of disputes, territorial conflicts, old grudges. Anything from the past twenty years.”

“You’ll have what you need.”

I turned to leave.

“Aurelia?”

I paused at the door.

“Thank you. For being honest. For not sugarcoating the danger.”

I nodded and left, mind already racing through possibilities and suspects.

Back in my office, I opened a new file on my computer. Started building a profile of potential rival packs with motive and means.

The moans from next door had stopped. The building was quiet.

But somewhere out there, someone was watching. Planning. Waiting.

And I had to find them before they struck.