Chapter 4

Emerson POV

The music reached me before the lights did.

Low and rhythmic, threaded with laughter that felt too loud, too careless for the hour. It spilled from the neighboring estate like an invitation I knew I shouldn’t accept.

I paused at the threshold, my fingers curling into the fabric of the borrowed dress Mia had given me. It fit well enough, but it wasn’t mine. Nothing here was.

You don’t belong here, my wolf murmured, uneasy. And they know it.

I should have turned back.

But the silence of the mansion had pressed too hard against my chest, and the ache of it—of being alone in a place full of people—had driven me out.

Across the poolside, Alpha Ryder stood beneath the lights.

He wasn’t participating in the revelry. He didn’t need to. The crowd curved subtly around him, orbiting without being invited. Women hovered close, their laughter too bright, their movements deliberately careless.

He barely touched anyone.

And yet they leaned in anyway.

Something tight coiled in my chest.

I told myself it was nothing. Curiosity. Adjustment. A byproduct of being somewhere unfamiliar and overstimulating.

Still, my gaze followed him.

When a woman brushed his arm as she passed, my fingers twitched at my side before I could stop myself. The reaction startled me.

Why do we care? my wolf asked quietly.

“I don’t,” I whispered back, embarrassed by the truth I didn’t want to name.

But I did.

Not because he was handsome—though he was. Not because he was powerful—though that was undeniable.

It was because he had looked at me.

Seen me.

And I had not been invisible.

I turned away sharply and made for the bar, needing distance, needing something solid to hold onto.

“I’ll have juice,” I said.

The bartender hesitated, his gaze flicking briefly past me.

Then he slid a glass of water toward me.

“I didn’t ask for that.”

“You were instructed to drink water,” a woman beside me said coolly.

Wren.

She stood too close, her posture relaxed but deliberate, her eyes assessing. They flicked briefly to mine—too briefly—then away.

“I can decide for myself,” I replied, keeping my tone even.

Her smile didn’t reach her eyes.

“You’re new,” she said lightly. “New wolves don’t always know what’s best for them.”

The implication settled uncomfortably in my stomach.

Before I could respond, someone stepped into my space—a man with a grin too sharp to be friendly, his confidence rehearsed.

“Welcome to New Orleans,” he said, pressing a glass into my hand. “A celebration.”

I hesitated.

Don’t, my wolf warned, her voice firmer now. This isn’t right.

I glanced around. No one was watching closely enough to care. Or maybe they were watching too closely.

I was tired of being the one who refused. The one who hid. The one who survived by shrinking.

So I drank.

Once.

The liquid burned faintly on the way down.

I told myself it was nerves.

I drank again.

The music seemed louder suddenly, the lights too bright. The edges of the world softened, smeared like wet paint.

My stomach lurched.

“That’s enough,” I muttered, trying to set the glass down—but my hand missed the counter.

The man laughed softly. “Looks like it’s working.”

Cold fear slammed into me, sharp and sudden.

I stumbled back, my legs unsteady, my pulse roaring in my ears. The crowd thickened around me, bodies brushing too close, voices blending into noise.

Move, my wolf urged urgently. Now.

I tried.

My limbs felt heavy, unresponsive. Panic crept up my spine as the ground tilted beneath my feet.

“Help—” My voice barely carried.

Hands brushed my arms. Someone laughed. Someone else said my name wrong.

Then—

“That’s enough.”

The voice cut through the chaos like steel.

The air shifted instantly.

A strong arm wrapped around me, firm and unyielding, pulling me out of the crowd and against a solid chest. The world seemed to snap back into focus, even as my head spun.

Ryder.

I felt his body tense—felt his anger before I heard it.

“Who touched her?” he demanded, his voice low and lethal.

His gaze shifted sharply.

“Wren,” he said.

The single word cracked like a whip.

She stiffened. “Alpha—”

“You were responsible for her,” Ryder interrupted coldly. “Step away. Now.”

Her mouth opened, then closed. She obeyed without another word, color draining from her face.

“I’ll deal with you later.”

No one answered him.

The laughter died. The music seemed to fade into the background. People stepped back without being told, creating space where there had been none.

“I’m here,” he murmured near my ear, his voice quieter now. “You’re safe, Em.”

The name undid me.

I blinked up at him, my thoughts slow and tangled.

“Are you an angel?” I whispered, the words slipping out before I could stop them. “You’re too gentle to be real.”

His arm tightened slightly around me.

“Sleep,” he said quietly.

I clutched his arm, pressing my face into his chest as nausea rolled through me. His scent grounded me—dark, steady, unmistakable. My wolf quieted, curling closer to the surface.

No one came near us.

Not one.

Ryder’s hand tightened at my back as he lifted me into his arms. The movement was decisive, unquestioned.

As he carried me away, I caught a glimpse of Wren’s face—tight, unreadable. Her gaze flicked briefly to the empty space by the bar, then away, as if confirming something I wasn’t meant to see.

The man who had given me the drink was gone.

The night air hit my skin, cool and bracing. I breathed it in greedily, my head still spinning but clearing slowly.

Ryder didn’t speak as he crossed back toward the mansion, but I felt the shift ripple outward anyway. Conversations died. Eyes followed. Somewhere behind us, a door slammed shut.

Orders were already being carried out.

He’s angry, my wolf whispered. Not at you.

That scared me more than anything else.

As the doors closed behind us, sealing out the noise and the lights, I realized something I hadn’t before.

This hadn’t been a mistake.

And whoever thought I was unprotected had just declared themselves Ryder’s enemy.