C3

"Let go of me, Evan!"

I snarled, wrenching my wrist out of Evan’s grip with enough force to make him stumble. My heart was thundering, but my face remained a mask of Arctic glass.

Evan’s palm hit the air, and for a second, he looked genuinely rattled before his features twisted into a mask of pure venom. He jabbed a finger toward the massive silhouette standing just inside the entrance of the Blackridge Enforcement HQ.

"Is this why you've been acting like a cold-blooded bastard all day?" Evan’s voice rose to a frantic, ugly pitch. "You’re blowing me off for him? Who is he, Jack? Is he richer? Is he more of an Alpha? I never pegged you for a social-climbing gold-digger!"

I felt a wave of nausea. To think I’d spent seven years with this man—a man who would throw a tantrum at the gates of a Pack Precinct. I opened my mouth to shut him down, but a dry, lethal chuckle cut through the air.

"Hey, pal. Eyes up here."

The shadow moved. As the man stepped into the light of the foyer, the entire lobby seemed to go silent. I heard Maya, my assistant, let out a sharp, breathless "Holy Moon..."

I couldn't blame her. I found myself giving a slow, involuntary nod of agreement.

The man was a towering wall of muscle, easily hitting 1.9 meters. He was the literal definition of a prime Alpha. Every limb was perfectly proportioned, encased in a rugged black tactical jacket and dark trousers that did nothing to hide the power in his frame—broad shoulders tapering down to a narrow waist and legs that seemed to go on forever.

But it was his face that truly silenced the room. It wasn't just handsome; it was carved from granite and moonlight. His brows were sharp, like the ridge of a mountain, framing eyes that held the depth of obsidian. His lips were set in a thin, dangerous line, radiating an aura that practically screamed at everyone else to keep their distance.

I glanced at his left hand, hanging loosely at his side. I saw the slight tension in the knuckles, the way his scent—sharp cedar and ozone—began to saturate the room. I looked away quickly, knowing exactly what that scent meant.

"Are you losing your mind?" Evan’s face went pale then flushed dark red. He waved a hand dismissively, his voice trembling. "Don't interrupt us. I'm talking to my partner!"

The young man who had lunged at me earlier—Silas Crowe—stepped forward, his eyes still rimmed with red, but his voice was pure acid.

"Wow. Did you really just break your own ego, buddy? Do you even hear yourself babbling? I only let you talk this long so you could see the truth. My Alpha isn't just more capable than you; he’s got more power in his pinky finger than your entire pathetic bloodline. You’re radiating inferiority."

Silas leaned in, a cruel smirk crossing his face. "And word of advice? Try being less of a prick. Even a rogue wouldn't claim a mate like you."

Evan looked like he’d been slapped. "I... you..."

"Tsk."

The Alpha in the jacket shifted, casting a sharp, sidelong glance at Silas. It was a silent command for him to shut up. Silas immediately snapped his mouth shut and stood to attention.

I remembered that voice from the steps. One word from him and the room obeyed. This wasn't just some bodyguard.

"Jack! I’m still standing here!" Evan hissed, trying to reclaim my attention.

I gave him a look so cold it should have frozen the blood in his veins.

"What is that look?" Evan demanded, his voice cracking. "I drive all the way down here to celebrate your birthday, and you treat me like a stranger?"

"We’re done talking, Evan. Don't interfere with my hunt." I turned my back on him.

Silas rubbed his hands together, his demeanor shifting back to the grim reality of the day. "Dr. Quinn, about my cousin's body—"

"Follow me," I said, my voice hardening. "We go inside. Now."

We moved toward the secure elevators. Evan tried to lung forward to grab me again, but Silas blocked his path with a shoulder check that sent Evan reeling.

"Back off, civilian!" Silas shouted, loud enough for the whole lobby to hear. He leaned closer to me as we walked, pitching his voice just high enough to carry back to Evan. "Honestly, Dr. Quinn, your taste in men is bottom-shelf. Why waste your time? Look at the Alpha next to you—tall, lethal, and his bank account has more zeros than your ex has brain cells. Better yet, my Alpha has never even had a partner. He’s a clean slate, still—"

"Do you want to be demoted to kennel duty?"

The Alpha—Ronan Blackridge—didn't even look over, but he raised a boot and playfully but firmly kicked Silas in the rear.

Silas gave a cheeky, fawning grin. "Just trying to turn the guy green, Alpha. Look at his face. He looks like he’s about to vomit."

I didn't let myself smile, but as the elevator doors began to slide shut, I caught one last glimpse of Evan. He was trapped behind the security turnstiles, screaming my name and pointing at Silas like a madman. I didn't blink. I just watched the floor numbers climb.

Evan tried to push past the front desk, but the elderly Enforcer on duty, a veteran wolf with graying fur at his temples, stepped in his way.

"You can't go up there, son."

"Do you know who I am?" Evan yelled. "I'm Dr. Quinn's partner! Let me through!"

The old wolf tilted his head. "Eh? Who are you to the Lead Healer?"

Evan’s jaw worked. "I'm his boyfriend!"

"Who's boyfriend?"

"Dr. Quinn! Jack Quinn! I'm his damn boyfriend!"

The old man dug a finger into his ear, took a step back, and looked Evan up and down with pure disgust. "Young man, stop your howling. My hearing is sharp as a hawk's. Why are you shouting like a feral?"

Evan looked like his head was about to explode. "Can I go in or not?"

The old wolf gave a slow, jagged smile. "Nope. Not unless Dr. Quinn comes back down to leash you himself."

"He just went up!"

"Then you should have kept up, shouldn't you?"

Evan slammed his fist against the security glass, turned around, and stomped back to his car. He sat there, gripping the steering wheel, his eyes fixed on the entrance like a vulture waiting for a carcass.

"Dr. Quinn."

Maya greeted me the moment I stepped into the Lunar Forensics Lab. "I’ve laid out the silver-grade scalpels and the ultraviolet scanners. Everything's been purified."

"Thanks, Maya." I nodded, heading straight for the locker room. I emerged minutes later in full tactical scrubs, gloves snapped tight. "The family requested the immediate post-mortem, right?"

"Yes." Maya handed me the digital tablets. "The papers are signed."

I walked into the primary dissection suite, Maya trailing behind with the equipment case. Two men were already there, standing in the sterile blue light. Silas Crowe looked like a different person—the bravado was gone, replaced by a hollow, haunting grief. His eyes were bloodshot.

"Protocol states only one kin-member can witness," Maya said, her voice professional but firm as she looked at Ronan. "Mr. Crowe is registered. Sir, you need to wait in the observation gallery."

Ronan didn't move. He stood like a statue of shadowed obsidian.

"Sir—" Maya started again, her brow furrowing.

"Maya, stop."

She looked at me, confused. "Dr. Quinn?"

"This is Alpha Ronan Blackridge," I said, my voice steady as I prepped the first blade. "He’s the new Commander of the Blackridge Enforcement Pack. He stays."

Silas looked up, snapping out of his trance. "Wait, Dr. Quinn... how did you know who he was?"