Chapter 3: The Ghost of New York

"You’re sweating, El. And you smell... different."

I didn't stop scrubbing the kitchen counter. I couldn't. If I stopped, I’d have to look at Camille, and I’d have to face the guilt rotting in my gut. The pine-and-snow scent of Victor was still lodged in my lungs a phantom weight that made my skin crawl and tingle all at once.

"It’s just the city air, Cam," I muttered. I dug the sponge into a stubborn coffee stain until the plastic mesh started to fray. "Exhaust fumes and garbage. It gets on everything."

"Bullshit." Camille leaned against the fridge, her arms crossed. Her eyes were narrowed eyes so much like her brother’s, but without that bone-deep cruelty. "That night at the villa... Victor didn't just kick you out, did he? When I went back to the room the next morning, the door was nearly off its hinges. And the scent? It was thick. It was Alpha."

The sponge tore under my thumb. My heart did a slow, painful roll. He’d marked me. Not with teeth, but with everything else. He’d treated me like a secret and a sin, and then he’d tossed me out before the sun was even up.

"He was pissed, Camille. He shouted. I shouted back. He’s your brother you know he’s a control freak." I finally looked up and forced a dry, fake smile. "I’m fine. Really. I’m just stressed about this interview. If I don't get this job, I’m three weeks away from being on the street."

Camille bit her lip. The suspicion faded into that soft, heavy pity that always made me want to scream. "I’m sorry, El. I shouldn't have brought you there. I just thought maybe after six years..."

"Don't. It’s over."

But it wasn't. My wolf was curled in a ball at the back of my mind, whining for a man who had left a "discard" note on a pillow. It was a sickness. I was wolfless, barren, and broke the triple crown of shifter failures and yet my soul was still reaching for the man who had destroyed my life.

I grabbed my blazer, the only one I owned that didn't have frayed sleeves, and headed for the door. "Wish me luck."

"You don't need luck," she called out. "You're a Hart. Even if the pack forgot, the blood knows."

The blood is failing me, Cam, I thought as I stepped into the humid, screaming chaos of Manhattan. It’s failing me every time I crave a monster.

The lobby of Blackwood Global was a cathedral of glass and cold, grey marble. It screamed old money and new power. I smoothed my skirt for the tenth time, feeling like a speck of dust in the gears of a massive machine. I just needed this. A junior marketing role. Benefits. A salary that meant I could stop eating ramen over a cracked sink.

"Floor fifty-two," the receptionist said, her eyes never leaving her monitor. "Mr. Sterling is waiting."

I nodded, my throat tight. I stepped into the elevator, watching my reflection in the polished brass doors. I looked pale. Haunted.

When the doors opened on the top floor, the air changed.

The scent hit me first. Pine. Lightning. Deep, dark earth. My knees buckled. I had to grab the handrail to stay upright. No. No, it’s just the trauma. He’s in Montana. He’s thousands of miles away.

I walked toward the corner office, my heels clicking like a countdown on the marble floor. The secretary didn't even ask my name. She just pointed at the double oak doors.

I pushed them open, my heart in my throat.

The office was a sprawling expanse of floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the skyline. And there, behind a desk made of petrified wood, sat the ghost that had been haunting my bed for a week.

Victor Blackwood didn't look up from his tablet. He looked perfect in a charcoal suit that probably cost more than my life. His hair was slicked back, his jaw clean-shaven, but the raw, animal power he radiated made the high-tech office feel like a cave.

"Sit down, Elodie," he said. His voice was a low vibration that skipped down my spine.

"What the f**k are you doing here?" The words were out before I could stop them.

Victor finally looked up. His amber eyes tracked me, slow and hungry. "I live here. This is my company. I bought Sterling & Associates yesterday morning. I liked their portfolio. And their recent applicant list."

"You bought a multi-million dollar firm just to... what? Torture me?" I slammed my bag onto his desk, the sound echoing in the sterile room. "I’m a stray, remember? Barren. Broken. You made your point in Montana, Victor. You gave me my marching orders. Let me live my life."

He stood, and the room suddenly felt very small. He walked around the desk, his movements languid, like a lion confident in its cage.

"You don't have a life, Elodie. You have a series of desperate struggles." He stopped inches from me, his scent wrapping around me like a shroud. He reached out, his thumb dragging across my lower lip. "I decided I didn't like the idea of you begging strangers for a paycheck. You'll work for me."

"I’d rather starve."

"You'll be my Personal Assistant," he continued, ignoring my outburst. "You’ll be at my side sixteen hours a day. You’ll handle my schedule, my travel, my... personal needs."

"Personal needs?" I stepped back, my chest heaving. "Oh, I get it. You want a mistress. You want a secret to keep in your desk drawer because your precious pack would kill you if you claimed a 'defective' mate properly. You want the bond without the responsibility."

"I want what’s mine," he hissed, his eyes flashing gold. "And like it or not, Elodie, you were marked by my soul the moment you stepped onto my mountain. You don't get to walk away from that."

The door behind us swung open without a knock.

"Victor, the treaty is ready for"

The voice was smooth, like expensive bourbon. I turned, and my heart stopped for the second time in an hour.

Sebastian Cole.

He was leaning against the doorframe, a smirk playing on his lips. He was the Alpha of the Silver Crescent Victor’s biggest rival and the man I’d almost run away with when I was nineteen, back when my family still had a name. He looked exactly the same: messy blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and a charm that hid a lethal streak.

Sebastian’s eyes traveled from Victor to me. The smirk vanished, replaced by a look of pure, shocked delight.

"Elodie?" He walked into the room, ignoring the sudden, deadly shift in the air. "Elodie Hart? God, look at you. You’re even more beautiful than I remembered."

"Sebastian," I breathed.

He reached for my hand before Victor could react. He took my fingers and pressed a warm kiss to my knuckles, his eyes never leaving mine. "I heard you vanished. If I’d known you were in the city, I wouldn't have wasted my time with these boring-ass treaties."

Crrack.

I jumped. Victor’s hand was resting on the corner of his desk. A spiderweb of deep fractures had erupted under his palm, the wood splintering into shards.

"Cole," Victor growled. The sound wasn't human. It was a low, guttural warning that made the windows vibrate. "The meeting is in the boardroom. Not my office."

Sebastian didn't let go of my hand. If anything, he pulled me a half-inch closer. "Don't be a prick, Victor. Elodie and I go way back. In fact," he turned back to me, his voice dropping to a seductive whisper, "I was just about to go to dinner. Join me? For old times' sake? I'd love to hear where you've been."

"She’s busy," Victor snapped.

"I wasn't asking you, Blackwood," Sebastian retorted, his blue eyes hardening. "I was asking the lady."

I looked at Victor. His face was a mask of cold fury, his knuckles white. He looked ready to tear Sebastian’s throat out. Then I looked at Sebastian the man who represented a life where I wasn't a hidden secret or a "broken" mate.

"She’s unavailable," Victor said, stepping between us. He placed a heavy, possessive hand on the small of my back, his thumb digging into my spine. It was a claim, clear and violent. "Tonight. Tomorrow. Every night after. She’s on the payroll now, Sebastian. And I don't share my assets."

Sebastian’s eyes went to Victor’s hand, then back to my pale face. A slow, dangerous smile spread across his face. "Assets? Is that what we’re calling it now? Interesting choice of words for a mate-bond, Victor. Does she know you're keeping her in a cage?"

He looked at me one last time, a silent promise in his gaze. "I’ll see you around, Elodie. New York is a small island. You can't hide her forever, Blackwood."

As Sebastian sauntered out, Victor spun me around, slamming me back against the fractured desk. His face was a mask of jealous rage, his chest heaving against mine.

"If you ever touch him again," he whispered, his breath hot against my mouth, "I will burn this city to the ground with you in it. Do you understand me?"

"Why do you care?" I screamed at him, tears of frustration pricking my eyes. "You don't want me! You told me to stay away! You told me I was nothing!"

"I lied!" He roared, his grip on my waist tightening until it hurt. "I lied because the thought of you being my weakness makes me want to kill everyone in this room! But I'll be damned if I let Sebastian Cole put his hands on what belongs to me."

He leaned in, his lips hovering over mine. "You're starting today. And the first rule? You don't leave my sight."

The phone on his desk buzzed. It was the receptionist. "Alpha? The Council is downstairs. They say they’re here to inspect the... 'unregistered wolf' reported in the building."

Victor froze. His eyes went wide. Someone had leaked my presence to the authorities. If the Council found a wolfless, high-ranking mate being hidden in the city, they’d take me for "study" which was a death sentence.

"Under the desk," Victor commanded, his voice urgent. "Now, Elodie! Or we both lose our heads."