CHAPTER SIX

KAIA

The Moonfang Construction building is eerily quiet at nine PM. Most of the staff cleared out hours ago, leaving just the security lights casting long shadows across the empty cubicles. I should have left too, but the quarterly reports won't finish themselves, and Vincent needs them for the board meeting first thing tomorrow morning.

At least Lewis Thornfield hasn't shown up again since that bizarre encounter at the café last week. One less thing to worry about while I'm drowning in spreadsheets and trying to ignore how the past few days of professional tension with Vincent have left me feeling like a live wire.

Every interaction we've had since I started has been charged with this underlying current of... something. The way he watches me during meetings. How his jaw ticks when other wolves dismiss my suggestions. The careful distance he maintains, like he's afraid of what might happen if he gets too close.

I'm hunched over my computer, squinting at numbers that are starting to blur together, when I hear footsteps in the hallway. Heavy, measured, familiar. My wolf perks up before my brain catches up, and I curse under my breath.

Vincent appears in the doorway to the main office area, his tie loosened and the top button of his white dress shirt undone. His dark hair is slightly mussed, like he's been running his hands through it. Even exhausted, he's devastatingly handsome.

"You're still here," he says, his voice carrying easily across the empty space.

"So are you." I don't look up from my screen, determined not to give him the satisfaction of my attention.

His footsteps draw closer until he's standing beside my desk. I can smell his cologne—that warm, spicy scent that makes my pulse quicken despite my best efforts.

"You don't have to stay this late, Kaia. The reports can wait until tomorrow."

"You said you needed them first thing in the morning." I finally glance up, meeting his dark eyes. "I'm just doing my job."

Something flickers across his face—frustration, maybe, or hurt. "When I said first thing, I didn't mean you had to kill yourself to get them done."

"I'm not killing myself. I'm being thorough."

He leans against the edge of my desk, close enough that I can feel the heat radiating from his body. "You always were a perfectionist."

The casual familiarity in his tone makes my chest tighten. Like we're still those teenagers who used to study together, who shared inside jokes and stolen kisses. Like he didn't destroy everything between us with his cruel game.

"Don't," I say quietly.

"Don't what?"

"Don't talk to me like you know me. Like we're friends."

His jaw clenches. "I know you won't tell me what happened. You made that clear the other day."

I save my work and stand abruptly, needing distance between us. But Vincent moves too, stepping into my path. We're suddenly face to face, close enough that I can see the exhaustion in his eyes, the slight stubble along his jaw.

"Move," I say, my voice steadier than I feel.

"You can't keep pretending there's nothing between us." His voice is low, dangerous. "I see the way you react when I'm near. Your pulse races, your scent changes. You can lie with words, Kaia, but your body tells the truth."

Heat floods my cheeks because he's right, and we both know it. "That doesn't mean anything."

"Doesn't it?" He steps closer, and I can feel the heat radiating from his body. "Then why are you running?"

"I'm not running. I'm leaving. There's a difference."

"Is there?" His dark eyes search mine. "Because it looks the same from where I'm standing."

I try to move around him, but he shifts, blocking my path without actually touching me. "You can hate me all you want," he says quietly. "But don't pretend you don't feel this too."

Before I can respond, he reaches out and catches my wrist gently.

The moment his skin touches mine, electricity shoots up my arm. My wolf whimpers, pressing against my ribs like she's trying to get closer to him. The feelings I've spent years denying roar to life, flooding my system with want and need.

Vincent's eyes widen, and I know he feels it too. The pull between us, the connection that defies logic and reason. His grip on my wrist tightens slightly, his thumb brushing over my pulse point.

"Kaia," he whispers, my name falling from his lips like a prayer.

For a heartbeat, we just stare at each other. The air between us is charged, electric, crackling with so much unresolved tension. He's so close I can see the flecks of gold in his dark eyes, can feel his breath against my cheek. My body remembers what it felt like to be in his arms, remembers the way he used to hold me like I was something precious.

But then reality crashes back. The memory of his laughter, his cruel words about omegas being easy, the way he collected my heart like a trophy.

I jerk my hand away, breaking the connection. "Don't touch me."

The words hit him like a slap. He stumbles back a step, his hand falling to his side.

"Kaia—"

"I said don't." I grab my purse and coat, desperate to escape before I do something stupid. "The reports will be on your desk in the morning."

I rush toward the elevator, my heart pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat. All that distance, all that time apart, and one touch nearly undid everything. I'm in so much trouble.