C1

"Where are you? Do not tell me you are going to sabotage the most important hunt of your career before it even begins."

I didn't dare move a muscle as I read the glowing text on my lap. Nyra was currently hovering over me, her brush flicking across my eyelid with the precision of a surgeon.

"Is that Declan again?" Nyra asked, her voice tight with that familiar edge of disdain. She’d never made a secret of her distrust for Declan Voss. She claimed her bluntness was a trait passed down through generations of her desert-dwelling kin, but I knew it was just her being protective.

"He’s just being a professional, Nyra. This move to the Thornridge Dominion is huge for us."

"If a Lead Scout ever growled at me with that tone, I’d challenge his position right there in the dirt. Now, eyes up, Rowan."

Looking up meant I was officially cut off from my device. I was cutting it dangerously close to the gathering, but I’d rather face Declan’s wrath than walk into the Citadel with uneven war-paint. Luckily, our driver was navigating the winding paths of the Redridge Territory with unusual grace, despite the constant stop-and-go of the evening traffic. "How are you even managing to do this in a moving vehicle?"

"Focus and pheromones, darling," she muttered, her hand steady as she traced the line of my lashes. When she finally pulled back, she held her eyeliner pencil up like a sacred relic, admiring the sharp, predatory edge she’d given my gaze. "I truly am a gift to this pack."

I let out a breathless laugh. "You’re incredible, but has anyone ever told you that your ego is large enough to have its own gravity?"

"Frequently. Now, stop talking. Pucker up."

I couldn't retort because she was already refining the edges of my lips. My phone buzzed against my thigh Declan again, no doubt.

"Touch that phone and I’ll claw you myself," Nyra warned. Right then, the driver slammed on the anchors to avoid a stray pup crossing the path. The pencil jerked. Nyra’s wide eyes told me everything; she glared at the back of the driver's head before taking a centering breath. "It’s fine. I can fix it." She used a thumb to smudge the stray mark into a perfect, intentional shadow.

She leaned back, her high ponytail swaying. "You look like a Queen of the Tundra. I am essentially a goddess."

"Nyra!"

"It helps that your natural bone structure is unfair, even without the enhancement. But you don't need to hear that. I’m the one who needs the validation. I’m sensitive."

"You have the ego of an Alpha for someone so 'fragile,'" I teased, squeezing her hand. "I appreciate you doing this, truly."

"Tell me later. We’re here, and you’re officially trespassing on 'late' territory." Nyra reached over me, unlatching the heavy door before the car had even fully settled. "Go on, little wolf. Hunt well!"

I scrambled out, clutching my bag and phone, feeling that familiar spark of adrenaline that always came after spending time with my oldest friend.

"You’re a total knockout!" Nyra shouted as I moved toward the gates. "The scouts will be tripping over their own paws just to get a scent of you. Just remember who made you look this lethal when you’re leading the first line!"

The courtyard of the Moonspire Citadel was swarming with high-ranking members of the Dominion. Usually, I’d be self-conscious about the way heads turned as I passed the way the air seemed to ripple with the sudden focus of a dozen predators but I didn't have the luxury of time.

I kept my head high, ignoring the low murmurs and the sharp, assessing scents of the strangers around me.

As I pushed through the heavy oak doors, I wondered if this was what it felt like to be a legend. Because I was going to be one. I would be the best Ice Hockey forward the Dominion had ever seen. Positive mindset, as Declan always barked.

I bypassed the main stairs and sprinted toward the wing dedicated to the Dominion’s elite sports and media divisions. These lifts were reserved for internal circle members. Technically, I was still just a prospect for the Nightfall Broadcast’s athletic team, but my name was on the clearance list for tonight’s ceremony.

"Rowan Ashcroft," I said to the guard, my voice steady despite my racing heart.

He checked his tablet, his eyes scanning the digital manifests. Nearby, a group in formal furs and silks spoke in hushed, urgent tones. A lone man stood by the far wall in a dark, tailored suit, his focus entirely on the device in his hand. I was clearly the last one arriving; the rest of the pack was likely already seated in the hall above.

Declan is going to skin me alive.

I caught my reflection in the polished obsidian of the wall. At least the look worked. Dark lips, eyes that looked like they belonged to a predator in a blizzard, and my blonde hair swept up with loose tendrils framing my face. Nyra was a sorceress.

"The Redridge League scout?" The guard asked.

"That's me."

"You're cleared. Take the Ironclaw Lift to the sixty-third level."

I hurried past him into the waiting lift and slammed the button for the top floor. As the heavy doors began to slide shut, I finally exhaled.

Then, a gloved hand caught the edge of the door, forcing them back open. A man stepped in. As is instinct for any wolf trapped in a small space with a dominant stranger, I retreated into the back corner, keeping my scent neutral and my eyes down.

He didn't spare me a glance, which was a relief.

But as the lift began its silent, rapid ascent, I couldn't help but steal a look.

The air left my lungs in a sharp hiss.

Ancestors help me.

With trembling fingers, I pulled up my messages to Nyra.

Rowan: Holy shit. He’s here. In the lift.

I followed the text with a blurred, covert photo of the man standing three feet away: Kael Thornridge. The Alpha of the Thornridge Dominion. The man who owned the ice I played on and the network I worked for. The man I was supposed to impress tonight in hopes of securing a permanent spot on the pro roster.

I stared at the photo while the signal struggled to climb through the Citadel’s wards. Kael was the youngest Alpha to ever lead the Dominion, and the media followed his every move like starving hounds. I’d spent months studying his plays on the ice and his tactics in the boardroom, but the screen didn't do him justice. His jawline looked like it had been carved from the very mountain the Citadel sat upon. If he looked at me directly, I was fairly certain my heart would simply stop.

I zoomed in on the image and felt a cold sweat break out. His lips were curved into a faint, knowing smirk. Did he smell the digital shutter?

Before I could spiral into a panic, the lift lurched violently.

The floor beneath us shuddered, and we came to a dead stop. I looked at the display. Instead of the floor number, the runes were flashing a jagged, pulsing red.

"Are you kidding me?" I growled.

If Kael was bothered by being trapped in a steel box, he didn't show it. He pulled a sleek phone from his coat and tapped out a message. "The feast is usually dry anyway. It’s worth missing." He didn't look up.

I hadn't planned on eating, mostly to preserve Nyra’s handiwork. "I’m more concerned about missing the opening rites. My career depends on being in that room."

Kael finally turned to face me. He crossed his powerful arms over his chest and leaned back against the cold wall, his presence filling the small space until it felt like the oxygen was disappearing. "I highly doubt the ceremony will begin without the Alpha of the Pack."

It was arrogant. It was the kind of thing only a man with absolute power would say.

"At the very most," he said, his voice a low, melodic rumble, "you’ll only miss the minor awards for the local scouts. Nothing of consequence."