The thing about howls at night

I didn't sleep that night.

How could I? I'd heard a howl. An actual, honest-to-God howl coming from inside a corporate office building in downtown Seattle.

"It was probably a video someone was watching," I told myself for the hundredth time as I stared at my bedroom ceiling. "Or a ringtone. Or a prank. Or literally anything other than an actual wolf in a skyscraper."

But I couldn't shake the memory of Damien's face when he'd told me the building wasn't safe after dark. The way he'd moved—too fast, too fluid. The way his eyes had flashed gold.

The way he'd said "what's mine" like he had any right to claim me.

I rolled over and grabbed my phone. Three AM. I had to be back at the office in five hours.

Against my better judgment, I opened G****e and typed: "Damien Sterling Seattle."

The results were... sparse. Which was weird for a billionaire CEO. There were business articles about Sterling Industries' acquisitions, a few photos from charity galas where Damien looked bored in a tuxedo, and a Wikipedia page that was surprisingly bare-bones.

No social media. No interviews. No information about his family or where he came from.

It was like he'd just appeared in Seattle five years ago with a fortune and started buying companies.

I scrolled through image results, studying his face in different photos. Always the same intense expression. Always standing slightly apart from everyone else. Always looking like he was tolerating the human world rather than living in it.

Human world. Why had I thought of it like that?

I closed G****e and opened a new search: "companies named after wolf packs."

Nothing relevant.

"Corporate pack mentality."

Business articles about teamwork. Nothing weird.

I was about to give up when my fingers typed something else entirely: "wolf eyes glowing gold."

The results made my stomach drop.

Werewolf folklore. Shapeshifter legends. Urban fantasy novel recommendations.

I slammed my phone face-down on the nightstand.

"You're losing it, Maya," I said out loud. "Absolutely losing it. Werewolves aren't real. Your hot boss is not a werewolf. You're just stressed and sleep-deprived and projecting your anxiety about the new job onto supernatural nonsense."

But I still couldn't fall asleep.

~

Tuesday morning, I showed up to work looking like death warmed over. The barista at the Starbucks in the lobby took one look at me and made my latte a triple shot without asking.

"Rough night?" she asked sympathetically.

"You have no idea."

I made it to my office and tried to focus on the Meridian files, but my brain was moving through mud. The numbers swam on my screen. I kept reading the same paragraph over and over without absorbing any of it.

At ten AM, my phone buzzed with a text from an unknown number.

Unknown: My office. Now.

My heart did a stupid little flip. Only one person would text like that—no greeting, no signature, just a command.

I grabbed my tablet and headed for the elevator, very aware that I was about to break Patricia's rule about the executive floor needing explicit permission.

Though I guess a direct text from the CEO counted as explicit permission.

The elevator doors opened onto the top floor, and I stepped into what looked more like a luxury penthouse than an office suite. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the entire city. The furniture was all dark wood and leather. Everything was sleek and expensive and vaguely intimidating.

A woman sat at a desk near Damien's office door. She looked up as I approached—another stunning employee, this one with honey-blonde hair and amber eyes that looked eerily familiar.

"Maya Chen?" she asked, her voice friendly. "I'm Sophie, Mr. Sterling's assistant. He's expecting you. Go right in."

I knocked once and opened the door.

Damien's office was somehow even more impressive than I remembered. But I barely noticed the decor because Damien was standing by the windows, and he looked... different.

He was wearing dark jeans and a gray t-shirt that showed off muscular arms I definitely shouldn't be noticing. His hair was messier than yesterday, like he'd been running his hands through it. He looked tired, which was strange because I got the impression Damien Sterling never looked anything less than perfectly composed.

"You look terrible," he said bluntly.

"Good morning to you too."

A ghost of a smile crossed his face. "Didn't sleep?"

"Not really." I wasn't going to tell him why. "You wanted to see me?"

"I wanted to apologize." He moved away from the windows, coming closer. "About Vanessa. I spoke with her last night. She's been... reminded of appropriate workplace behavior."

"You didn't have to do that."

"Yes, I did." His voice was firm. "She was out of line. It won't happen again."

We stood there for a moment, the silence stretching between us. I should have left. Should have gone back to my office and my work and stopped staring at the way his t-shirt fit across his chest.

But then Damien said, "You're afraid of me."

It wasn't a question.

"I'm not—"

"Your heart rate spikes every time I come near you. You won't make eye contact for more than a few seconds. You're standing by the door like you're ready to run." He tilted his head, studying me. "What did I do to scare you, Maya?"

How did he know my heart rate? How did he move so quietly? Why did his eyes do that thing?

"The building," I said before I could stop myself. "Last night. You said it wasn't safe after dark. What did you mean?"

Something flickered across Damien's face. For just a moment, he looked almost... guilty?

"Security concerns," he said smoothly. "We've had issues with break-ins in the past. I prefer my employees to leave before the overnight security shift starts."

It was a good lie. A believable lie.

But it was still a lie.

"I heard something," I pressed. "After you left. A sound."

"What kind of sound?"

"Like..." I couldn't believe I was about to say this. "Like a wolf howling."

The temperature in the room changed. I swear it did. The air got heavier, charged with something I couldn't name.

Damien went very still. "Maya—"

"I know how it sounds," I said quickly. "I know it's crazy. But I heard it. And your eyes—sometimes they look like they're glowing. And everyone here is weirdly attractive and moves weird and you knew my heartbeat sped up which isn't something normal people can tell and you said 'pack' instead of 'team' and—"

I was rambling. Word-vomiting all over my new boss who was going to think I was insane and fire me and—

Damien crossed the distance between us in two steps. One moment he was by the windows, the next he was right in front of me, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off his body.

"Stop," he said quietly.

I stopped.

His hand came up, and for a wild second I thought he was going to touch my face. Instead, he gripped the door frame beside my head, caging me in without actually touching me.

"You're too perceptive for your own good," he said, his voice low and rough. "I knew it the moment you walked into my office. You see things other people miss. It's what makes you brilliant at your job. But it's also going to get you into trouble."

"What kind of trouble?"

"The kind where you start asking questions that have dangerous answers." His eyes—those impossible amber eyes—locked onto mine. "So I'm going to give you a choice, Maya. You can walk away right now. Quit this job, take a generous severance package, and go back to your normal life. Or you can stay, finish the Meridian project, and stop looking for answers you're not ready to hear."

My breath caught. "And if I want those answers anyway?"

"Then you're braver and more foolish than I thought."

We were so close. Close enough that I could see the gold flecks in his eyes, could smell that woodsy scent that seemed to cling to him, could feel the barely controlled tension in his body.

This was inappropriate. So inappropriate. He was my boss. We were at work. I should have been backing away, putting professional distance between us.

Instead, I heard myself say, "I'm not walking away."

Something flashed in Damien's eyes—triumph? relief?—before his expression shuttered.

"Then promise me something," he said. "Promise me you'll be careful. Don't go anywhere alone after dark. Don't talk to strangers who seem too interested in you. And if anything feels wrong—anything at all—you call me immediately."

"You're scaring me."

"Good. You should be scared." His hand was still braced against the door frame, his body still crowding mine. "There are things in this city that would hurt you just to get to me. I need to know you'll be safe."

"Things? What things?"

"Maya—"

A knock on the door made us both jump.

Damien stepped back quickly, putting professional distance between us. His expression shifted from intense to controlled so fast I almost got whiplash.

"Come in," he called.

Sophie poked her head in. "Sorry to interrupt, but you have the board meeting in five minutes."

"Thank you, Sophie." Damien's voice was perfectly calm, perfectly professional. Like we hadn't just been standing way too close and having a conversation that made no sense. "Maya, we'll continue this discussion later. In the meantime, I need you to attend the Meridian meeting this afternoon. Two PM, conference room B."

It was a dismissal. A clear, professional dismissal.

I grabbed my tablet and headed for the door, my mind spinning.

"Maya."

I turned back.

Damien was standing by his desk now, every inch the composed CEO. But his eyes were still burning with that strange intensity.

"Be careful," he said again.

~

I made it through the morning on autopilot, my brain trying to process everything that had happened.

Damien had basically admitted something weird was going on. He'd warned me about "things" in the city. He'd told me I was asking dangerous questions.

But he hadn't actually told me anything.

By the time two PM rolled around, I was wound so tight I was ready to snap.

The Meridian meeting was packed—at least fifteen people crowded into conference room B. I recognized a few faces from my office tour, but most were strangers.

And then there was Vanessa.

She sat at the far end of the table, looking flawless in a black dress that probably cost more than my rent. When she saw me, her lips curved into a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"Maya," she said sweetly. "How nice of you to join us."

I took a seat near the middle of the table, trying to ignore the way everyone was looking at me. Like they were assessing me. Judging me.

The meeting started, and I did my best to focus. The Meridian acquisition was more complex than I'd realized—there were intellectual property issues, competing offers from other companies, and a tight deadline that made everyone nervous.

I was taking notes on my tablet when Vanessa said something that made my blood run cold.

"Of course, Meridian's CEO is reluctant to sell to us specifically. Apparently, Marcus Kane has been spreading rumors about Sterling Industries' business practices."

I looked up sharply. "Marcus Kane?"

"CEO of Kane Enterprises," Vanessa said, her eyes glittering. "One of our biggest competitors. He and Damien have a... complicated history."

Something about the way she said "complicated" made my skin crawl.

"What kind of history?" I asked before I could stop myself.

The room went silent. Everyone was staring at me now, and not in a friendly way.

"That's not relevant to the acquisition," said a man I didn't recognize. His name tag read "James Fischer - CFO."

"Actually, it might be," I argued. "If Kane is actively sabotaging our reputation with Meridian, we need to address that in our pitch. We should be prepared to counter whatever lies he's spreading."

Vanessa's smile sharpened. "Such initiative. Though I wonder if you're really concerned about the acquisition, or if you're just curious about Damien's personal life."

"I'm concerned about doing my job," I shot back. "Which is more than I can say for someone who spends her time questioning other people's qualifications."

The tension in the room ratcheted up about a thousand degrees.

"Ladies," James said carefully. "Let's stay focused on—"

The door opened, and Damien walked in.

The entire energy of the room changed instantly. Everyone sat up straighter. The side conversations stopped. Even Vanessa's expression shifted to something more guarded.

"Apologies for being late," Damien said, taking the seat at the head of the table. His eyes found mine immediately, holding my gaze for just a second before moving on. "I understand we're discussing the Kane situation?"

"Maya was just expressing concern about Marcus's interference," Vanessa said, her tone implying I'd been gossiping rather than doing my job.

"Good," Damien said. "She's right to be concerned. Kane will do everything in his power to undermine this acquisition. We need to be prepared."

He launched into a discussion of strategy, and I tried to pay attention. But I kept getting distracted by the way he commanded the room, the way everyone deferred to him, the way his presence seemed to fill the entire space.

And I kept thinking about what Vanessa had said. Complicated history.

The meeting wrapped up around four PM. People filed out quickly, but I lingered, pretending to organize my notes.

"Maya." Damien's voice stopped me at the door. "A word."

My stomach flipped.

When everyone else was gone, he closed the door and turned to face me.

"That was impressive," he said. "Standing up to Vanessa. Most people are too intimidated by her to push back."

"I wasn't trying to cause drama. I was genuinely concerned about the acquisition."

"I know." He moved closer, and I was suddenly very aware that we were alone in a room with a closed door. "But you should know—the tension between Vanessa and me is complicated. She's going to see you as a threat."

"A threat to what?"

Damien hesitated, like he was choosing his words carefully. "To the established order. To her position. To... certain expectations."

"You're being cryptic again."

"I'm being careful." He was close enough now that I had to tilt my head back to look at him. "There are politics in this company that you don't understand yet. Loyalties and rivalries that go back years. Vanessa has been with Sterling Industries since the beginning. She's powerful, connected, and she doesn't like change."

"And I'm change."

"You're more than that." His hand came up, and this time he did touch me—just his fingers brushing a strand of hair away from my face. The touch was gentle, almost reverent. "You're a disruption to everything we've built. And that makes you dangerous."

My breath hitched. "Dangerous to who?"

"To all of us." His thumb traced my cheekbone, sending sparks skittering across my skin. "But especially to me."

This was wrong. This was so wrong. He was my boss. We were at work. This could get us both fired—or worse, depending on what HR would say about a CEO pursuing an employee.

But I couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't think about anything except the way his touch felt like fire and ice and something wild.

"Damien," I whispered, not sure if I was protesting or encouraging.

His eyes locked onto mine, and I saw it again—that flash of gold, unmistakable and impossible.

"Tell me to stop," he said, his voice rough. "Tell me this is inappropriate and you want me to back off, and I will. I'll never touch you again."

I should have said it. Should have established boundaries and professionalism and all the things that normal employee-boss relationships required.

Instead, I said, "I heard howling last night. From inside this building. And I don't think it was a video."

Damien froze, his hand still cupping my face.

"I think you know exactly what it was," I continued, my heart pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears. "And I think that's why you warned me. That's why you said the building isn't safe after dark. Because there's something here. Something you're not telling me."

For a long moment, Damien just stared at me. Then, slowly, he lowered his hand and stepped back.

"You're right," he said quietly. "There is something I'm not telling you. Something I can't tell you, because once you know, there's no going back. Your life will never be the same."

"Maybe I don't want my life to stay the same."

"You don't know what you're saying."

"Then tell me!" The frustration that had been building all day finally boiled over. "Stop being cryptic and just tell me what's going on! Are you in some kind of trouble? Is the company involved in something illegal? Because if you need help—"

"I'm a werewolf."

The words hit me like a physical blow.

I stared at him, waiting for the punchline. For him to laugh and say he was joking, testing me, seeing how gullible I was.

But Damien didn't laugh. He just stood there, watching me with those impossible amber eyes, his expression grave.

"You're... what?"

"A werewolf. An Alpha, specifically. I lead the largest pack in the Pacific Northwest." His voice was steady, matter-of-fact, like he was discussing quarterly earnings. "Sterling Industries is a cover. Most of my employees are wolves. This building is pack territory. And you, Maya Chen, are my fated mate."

The room spun.

I grabbed the edge of the conference table to steady myself, my brain trying to process words that couldn't possibly be real.

Werewolves. Pack. Fated mate.

"I think I need to sit down," I said faintly.

"Maya—"

"No. No, this is—you're joking. You have to be joking. Werewolves aren't real. They're mythology. Fiction. They don't exist and they definitely don't run billion-dollar companies in downtown Seattle."

Damien's jaw tightened. "I knew you weren't ready."

"Ready? READY?" My voice was getting higher, edging toward hysteria. "How is anyone supposed to be ready to hear that their boss thinks he's a—a—"

And then Damien's eyes flashed gold—really flashed, so bright it lit up the dimming conference room.

His body rippled.

I couldn't describe it any other way. His whole form seemed to shift and blur, and suddenly there was too much of him, too large, too powerful, and I was looking at something that was still Damien but also absolutely not human.

His hands had sprouted claws. His teeth were fangs. His eyes were pure molten gold.

And I realized, with perfect, terrifying clarity, that I hadn't been going crazy.

I'd been seeing the truth all along.