FAZER LOGINSLOANE.
The morning sun did nothing to warm the stone walls of the Black Ridge ancestral court. I stood near the perimeter of the Great Hall, wearing an ivory wool dress my mother's stylists had forced on me an hour ago. The room was packed with pureblood nobles, pack alpha reps, and high ranking enforcers attending the formal Pack Court, the morning assembly where pack business, territory disputes, and bloodlines were officially recorded. Every gaze in the room felt like a physical weight on me. "Look at her," a female wolf two rows over whispered, not even bothering to lower her voice. "A half blood stray living in the main house. Luna's mongrel daughter." "I doubt she even has a wolf," her companion sneered, taking a slow sip of blood wine. "She smells like human dirt." My hands clenched into tight fists inside my pockets, my fingernails digging into my palms. I held my chin up, staring straight ahead at the raised dais where my mother sat in a plush velvet chair beside an empty Alpha throne. My mother looked regal in her emerald dress, but the pale, rigid line of her neck told me she heard every single whisper echoing across the marble floor. Heavy footsteps echoed from the rear archway. The low hum of conversation died instantly. The room went dead silent as a wave of cold, crushing authority flooded the air. My quiet wolf bristled under my skin, my pulse jumped in my throat before I even turned around. Alpha Raul stepped into the hall. He wore a dark charcoal suit, tailored so sharply it emphasized the broad width of his shoulders and his dangerous build. His hair was neat, his sharp end jawline smooth, his green eyes scanning the crowd with a flat cold indifference. He didn't walk toward his throne. He walked straight toward me. The surrounding nobles parted like water, backing away to give him a wide berth. He stopped three inches from my side, his towering frame casting a dark shadow over me. His scent hit my lungs, instantly making my knees feel weak. I kept my eyes fixed on the dais, refusing to look up at him. "They're staring," I muttered under my breath, my voice flat. "Let them," Raul said, his low baritone vibrating through my ribs. "You stand beside me." Before I could pull away, his large hand settled squarely against the small of my back. His grip was warm, heavy and entirely unyielding as he guided me through the crowd toward the raised platform. A collective gasp rippled through the hall. By placing his hand on me and forcing me to walk at his flank, he was publicly signaling to the entire pack that I was under the Alpha's direct protection, untouchable to anyone who valued their neck. Elder Vane stepped into our path near the foot of the dais, his dark eyebrows furrowed, his bloated face flushed with indignation. "Alpha Raul," Vane rasped, bowing his head slightly, though his greedy eyes darted to me with open disdain. "Surely the court protocol does not allow a half blood non member to stand within the inner circle during the high proceedings." Raul stopped. His hand stayed clamped on my back, his thumb pressing lightly into my spine through the wool. He looked down at the old elder, his eyes turning into two cold slits. "My court, Elder Vane," Raul said, his voice dropping an octave, carrying a quiet, terrifying weight that made the old wolf flinch. "My house. My rules. If you have an objection to who stands at my flank, you can challenge the ruling on the sand." Elder Vane's jaw worked silently. He swallowed hard, backed two paces away, and bowed his head lower. "Of course, Alpha." Raul led me past him, steering me toward the quiet, curtained gallery behind the main throne before releasing his grip. "Stay here," he ordered quietly. "Don't move until the court adjourns." He turned and stepped out onto the dais, taking his seat on the heavy stone throne. My mother offered him a tight, grateful smile, but he barely acknowledged her, immediately opening the ledger to address a boundary dispute on the northern border. Thirty minutes passed. The drone of property lines and pack taxes made my head ache. I couldn't stand the suffocating air in the gallery any longer. I slipped out through a side archway, intending to find a quiet courtyard. I then stopped walking and took a few deep breaths, but the moment I turned the corner into a deserted stone corridor, a hand shot out from the gloom. An arm wrapped around my waist, yanking me into a dark, narrow alcove used for storing ceremonial armor. The door clicked shut. My back hit the cold stone wall, a gasp tearing from my throat. Before I could strike out, a broad heavy body crowded mine, blocking out the light. Raul. He stood inches away, his hands planted flat against the stone on either side of my head, trapping me in his shadow. His green eyes burned down into mine with a dark heat that made my breath lock in my chest. "I told you not to move," he growled, his voice a low, gravelly rasp near my ear. "I don't take orders from you," I panted, my hands pressing flat against his broad chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath his suit. "And last night was a mistake." He leaned in closer, his chin scraping against my cheek as his head dipped toward my neck. He took a slow, deep breath, inhaling the scent of my skin. "No," he whispered, his full lips brushing the shell of my ear, sending a shiver straight down my spine. "It was a claim." "You're my mother's husband," I hissed, pushing against his chest with all my strength, though he didn't budge an inch. "You're the Alpha of this pack, and she is your Luna. What you did at the club-" "Your mother and I have an arrangement, little bird," Raul interrupted, his teeth lightly grazing my pulse point, making my knees buckle. "A legal paper to satisfy the elders. Nothing more. But you....you carry my mark on your skin." My breath hitched. The bite marks on my neck from last night throbbed beneath my collar. Before I could answer, quick, heavy footsteps echoed down the stone corridor outside the door. Raul went instantly still. He clamped a hand over my mouth, pressing my body flat against his, as two male voices stopped right outside our door. Just then, one stopped. "We can't talk here. Let's move." "Sure." Immediately as they left, Raul let go of my mouth. "Let's go back." "Ugh...yeah, sure." I nodded dumbfoundedly. But as soon as he left, I stayed back thinking about the two male voices from earlier. Something in my guts told me something was wrong. But I just couldn't put my finger on it.Sloane.I walk down Fourth Street holding Zane's hand. The afternoon heat reflecting off the glass storefronts, buy tucked between a dry cleaner and a boutique sits an old fashioned bakery. It looks out of place, it's wooden sign painted in faded lettering.Zane tugs my wrist, pointing his shoe toward the display window."Mommy,""No,""You don't even know what I'm going to ask,""Yes, I do,""Cake.""Exactly."A low chuckle comes from behind the counter as I push the glass door open. The shop smells of yeast, cinnamon, tea and sugar.An elderly man stands behind the display case, wiping his hands on a white apron. He has dark hair streaked with grey, soft grey eyes and a gentle smile that reaches his eyes."For the young man who's the first customer of the day," The baker says, reaching into a glass jar and slides a small cinnamon across the counter toward Zane.I step foward, placing my hand in Zane's shoulder. "He doesn't need sugar."Zane looks up at me with wide eyes, looking com
Sloane.Friday morning arrives with bright, clear skies over Malibu.The location is a private cliffside villa overlooking the ocean. The midday sun beats down on the stone patio and infinity pool. Stylists applied bronze oil to my shoulders while I stand near the edge of the water wearing an olive green string bikini.Roan walks out of the changing cabana wearing dark navy swim trunks. He is ta, his bare chest broad and sculpted, the dark ink of his tattoos running down his left arm.'Well, he's smoking hot, isn't he?' Ivara purrs making me scoff.'Shut up.' I snapped.'Yeah yeah.' She sniggered."Alright!" The photographer yells, crounching near the water, adjusting his lens. "Let's get close! Lean into him, Eva!"Roan steps up behind me on the warm stone tiles. His large, warm palm settles around my bare waist.My skins flares instantly. My heart spikes, a rapid beat hitting my ribs.He leaned down, his breath brushing the side of my neck. "You okay?""Fine," I lied, keeping my eye
Sloane."Drive faster, Hector!"I press my hand against the leather interior of the door, my pulse beating fast. Hector steps on the accelerator, cutting through the LA traffic. Ten minutes later, the sedan pulls up to my building.I don't wait for Hector to open my door. I jump out, sprinting up the lobby stairs, and throw my front door open."Sarah!" I yelled, dropping my bag on the floorboards.I race down the hallway into Zane's bedroom. He lay flat on his back in bed, a damp cloth resting on his forehead. He turns his head slowly, his lower lip sticking out."Mommy!" He says, his voice small and pathetic. "I'm dying."I sit on the mattress beside him, placing my palm against his skin. His forehead is warm, but he isn't burning. It seems like a mild, ordinary fever."You're absolutely not dying," I say, letting out a long breath of relief.'He deserves to be punished.' Ivara growls in my head, making me roll my eyes.'He's a kid.''The adrenaline rush he caused was enough to kill
Sloane.I got back to my apartment building at eight thirty.The lobby is empty. I take the elevator up to the fourth floor, my keys out, ready to see Sarah and put Zane to bed.I reached my door and looked down.Something white sits on the floor mat. A plain envelope slid down the hallway under the door.There is no stamp. No name. No return address.My hands shook as I picked it up and unlocked the door, stepped inside the dark foyer, and locked the deadbolt behind me. Sarah is in the living room reading a book, and Zane's bedroom door is shut. He is already asleep.I walked to the kitchen counter and tore the edge of the envelope open.A small photograph drops onto the granite. I picked it up.My breath locked in my throat as I stared at the photograph. It was a photo of me when I was six years old. I was wearing a yellow summer dress, standing in the grass by the garden wall. My mother, Anya, stood right beside me with her hand on my shoulder. She's smiling at the camera, her hai
Sloane.The news hit the industry feeds at eight in the morning.'ROAN RHYS PARTNER'S WITH EVA WEST'S AGENCY''WHAT A SURPRISE LAUNCH.'Every phone on the fourth floor rang at the same time. Assistants rushed past the glass partitions with a stack of revised schedules, and Julian spent two hours on the phone with our European distributors, locking in the fall runaway slots.Roan's fifteen million dollars is in the escrow account. The contracts are signed and filed with the state board. For the first time since I left Blackridge, I have legal protection against a corporate takeover.I stood near the water cooler in the break room, holding a paper cup of hot chocolate. I should feel relieved, and also call Sarah, tell her to buy something nice for Zane.Instead, I watched the glass doors of the lobby.I knew how Raul operates. A man like him does not lose fifteen million dollars and walk away. He waits for an opening, and when he finds one, he takes everything.At noon, I head out to th
Sloane.An hour later, the studio is empty.I sit alone on the leather sofa in my private dressing room. The bright lights are turned off, leaving only the dim ambient glow from the street lamps outside the window.I stare down at my hands resting on my lap. They are completely steady.I raised my right hand, my finger brushing the side of my neck, tracing the small, faded scar where Raul bit me years ago.Deep inside my mind, my wolf whisperers.'One awakens us.'I closed my eyes, my breath catching in my throat as I tried to push her voice down.'The other calms the storm.'I didn't want to hear the rest. I pressed my palms over my ears, but her voice rang clear through my head anyway'Both belong to us.'_Roan drives me home after the photoshoot - well, after the mess I made.Streetlights cut through the dark cabin of his car as he steers onto the highway. He doesn't interrogate me..he doesn't ask why I collapsed or why an international investor was standing near me in a studio ha







