C3

I tightened my grip on my own wrists, my scent flaring with a mix of frustration and quiet grit. "I wasn't trying to push, I just wanted to ask a...."

Before I could even finish the snarl, Draco Wesley’s head snapped in my direction. Our eyes locked, and for a heartbeat, it felt as though the bioluminescent crystals hanging from the ceiling pulsed with a sudden, blinding intensity. A slow, genuine smile spread across his face, his golden-brown eyes dancing with recognition.

"Forgive me, everyone. I need a moment." With a polite but firm flick of his tail, he navigated through the throng of high-caste females, making a direct line toward me.

He came to a halt right in front of me. Up close, his Alpha presence was staggering; he was much broader and taller than the magazines portrayed, but his aura lacked the typical jagged edge of arrogance. He looked like a male who knew his power and didn't need to bark to prove it.

"Pardon me, little wolf. Are you Brooke Lawson? The designer who debuted that midnight-weave collection at the Seacisco Lunar Summit?"

He had to incline his head slightly to meet my gaze, a gesture that felt oddly respectful rather than patronizing. Standing next to him, I felt small, but not weak. My face heated up, a mix of shock and the sheer weight of his attention making my heart race.

"You have the right wolf, Mr. Wesley. Though Lawson is no longer the name I carry. My blood has been recognized as White."

Draco’s face broke into a full grin, his eyes crinkling at the corners like the first light of dawn. "I see. Then it’s an honor to finally meet you, Miss White. You’re far more intriguing than the scouts described."

"I don't follow, Mr. Wesley," I managed, my head tilting in confusion.

"I tracked your work during the Seacisco moon cycles. Your eye for movement is rare. But then, your designs were suddenly scrubbed from the archives. I was overseeing a project in the Northern Wastes at the time, so the news reached me late. A tracker told me later that you were caught in a plagiarism storm. Tell me, has that trail been cleared yet?"

I looked at him, my curiosity getting the better of my nerves. "I’m curious, Mr. Wesley. Why aren't you asking me if I actually stole the designs?"

"A wolf who steals the spirit of another's work can never hide it from me. Your weave has a specific soul; a thief could never replicate that scent," he said, his voice dropping into a firm, low resonance.

"You’re that certain?" I asked, my surprise shifting into genuine interest.

Draco let out a rich, effortless chuckle. "You’re a sharp one, Miss White. I have a very keen sense for authenticity. Beyond that, I have access to the Council’s internal logs, and I read the formal retraction issued by Pierce Holdings. It seems the truth came out in the end."

The two of us began to talk—really talk—about the philosophy of functional armor and the aesthetics of a moving shift. We were so deep in conversation that neither of us noticed the dozens of envious eyes boring into us. Draco was easy to talk to, his scent like cedar and old parchment, and slowly, the tension that had gripped my shoulders since I arrived in the North began to bleed away.

"There. You look like you’ve finally stopped expecting a challenge," Draco noted with a soft smile.

"I’m not used to this," I admitted, gesturing to the glittering crowd of elites. "Socializing with high-tier Alphas and Lunas makes my wolf want to stay in the shadows. The pressure is... heavy."

"And what about your career? Are you still hunting for Pierce Holdings?"

I shook my head, a shadow crossing my face. "I severed that tie. Personal complications and pack politics made it impossible to stay."

Draco’s ears perked up instantly, his gaze turning predatory in a professional sense. "Have you marked a new territory yet?"

"I'm undecided. A part of me wants to open my own den—my own studio—but the thought of facing the Great Houses alone is intimidating. I think I need more time as a subordinate to learn how to navigate the deeper currents of the industry."

I let out a soft sigh, the warm light of the hall catching the planes of my face. I looked young, perhaps, but my eyes held the weight of everything I’d survived. Draco didn't hesitate; he moved in for the kill.

"How about joining my pack? Come to my studio. You can serve as my primary assistant, and I will give you every scrap of knowledge I have. You’ll be free to strike out on your own once you feel your claws are sharp enough to hold the territory."

I stared at him, my jaw nearly dropping. "Mr. Wesley... you can't be serious. You're offering me a seat at the High Table?"

My mind was spinning. Draco’s inner sanctum was the most guarded and coveted post in the entire Shifter world. Designers would give up their rank just for a week of his mentorship.

"Do I look like a wolf who speaks in riddles?" Draco teased, though his scent remained steady and serious.

I took a few seconds to catch my breath, and then a wide, genuine grin broke across my face. "Not at all. I would be honored to work for you. It’s the highest hunt I could imagine."

The socialites nearby were practically snarling with envy, their scents turning sour as they watched the exchange.

"Perfect. Shall we say the start of the next moon cycle?" Draco pulled a heavy, textured card from his pocket—his private contact—and handed it to me.

I was floating. This was the break I had never dared to pray for. I nodded, promising to be at his den by the following week. Johanna had been watching from the perimeter, and as soon as Draco moved off to greet a Council Elder, she was at my side, whispering fiercely.

"Brooke! Do you realize what just happened? To be favored by a male like Draco Wesley... your future isn't just bright, it’s legendary. You’ll be a Queen in this industry."

But I could see the flick of her ears; she was also thrilled because this meant I’d be staying in the North. If I worked for Draco, I wouldn't be running back to the South and that "troublesome" Logan Pierce.

Lila stood a few paces away, her heart a tangled mess of bitterness and awe. She had to admit, even if it choked her, that I had a magnetic pull she could never replicate. I had won over the most difficult Alpha in the room without even trying.

The high of the encounter stayed with me all the way back to the White Compound. I lay on my bed, staring at the embossed card in my hand, tracing the 'W' mark with my thumb.

Then, the memory of a dark, brooding face flashed in my mind. Logan. I realized with a jolt of guilt that I had been so swept up in the Northern politics that I hadn't even checked in with my mate. I quickly pulled up the video link.

When the connection flickered to life, Logan’s face was a mask of stormy possessiveness.

"Have you finally finished your tour of the Northern palaces, Brooke? I was beginning to think you’d forgotten you have a mate waiting in the South," he grumbled, his voice low and dangerous.

"I'm so sorry, Logan," I said, my heart softening at the sight of him. "My mother has had me in a literal chokehold of parties and introductions. I’ve been so exhausted I practically collapse the moment I hit the furs."

Logan snorted, his eyes narrowing as he scanned my face through the screen. "And you think that makes me feel better? Knowing you're being paraded around while I'm stuck here managing these borders without you? You don't care about my state of mind at all."

He was being incredibly clingy, acting like a lone wolf who had been left out in the rain. I had to spend the next ten minutes cajoling him, whispering sweet things into the link until I finally saw the corner of his mouth twitch into a reluctant smile.

"By the way, I have news. Huge news." I told him about Draco Wesley’s offer.

Instantly, the warmth vanished from Logan’s face. His expression went from pouty to murderous in a heartbeat.

"You... you’re actually considering serving that male?" He spoke through gritted teeth, his jealousy radiating through the device.

He had already been fuming that my parents had snatched me away, but Draco Wesley was a different kind of threat. He was a male with prestige, power, and a reputation that even Logan Pierce had to respect.