C3

"Magnus Thornridge," I said, a small, polite laugh bubbling up as I moved to introduce my mentor. "I’d like you to meet"

"Declan Voss," Magnus interrupted, his voice booming with a rugged warmth. "It’s been far too long. You’re spearheading the Nightfall Broadcast out in the Redridge Territory now? I should have known. That aggressive, fast-break style of play has your signature all over it."

I felt a twinge of envy as the two of them slipped into a rhythmic, easy banter. I was sidelined, but I had to remind myself that Declan had been navigating the politics of the Dominion since before I could lace up a pair of skates. He was closer to Magnus’s age, though he carried it differently. While Magnus looked like a seasoned elder of the pack, Declan’s silvering hair only made him look more like a lethal predator in his prime. He was fit, sharp, and possessed the kind of gravity that drew eyes from across the room.

If he hadn't been standing right next to me, I have no doubt the she-wolves would have been circling him like a kill.

He’s the reason I’m here, I reminded myself. Declan was a wolf who moved mountains. I was just fortunate he’d decided to drag me up the peaks with him.

"I’d like you both to meet my nephew, Marcus Hale," Magnus said, gesturing to the man at his side. "He’s a recent transfer to the Citadel. Officially, he’s our Warden of Public Integrity, but that’s just a high-blood way of saying he handles our PR and keeps the pack’s reputation from tarnish."

I did that ridiculous thing that instinctual female habit of baring my throat to show I wasn't a threat. "Oh, no. I hope you aren't here to reprimand me for my social media conduct during the last playoffs."

"Not that kind of integrity," Marcus assured me with a grin.

"More like he ensures the world doesn't realize what a bunch of savages we actually are," Magnus added.

We all shared a round of polite, hollow laughter. I scrambled for something sharp to say something that would mark me as an equal but the weight of the evening was starting to dull my edges.

"I have to say, Magnus," Declan cut in before the silence could turn awkward, "the way the Moonfang Network handled the exposure of the High-Caste financial scandal was legendary. True predatory journalism. I would have given my left claw to be in that war room."

I cursed myself for missing the opening. It was the biggest win the Thornridge Dominion had seen in a decade. I’d let the easy fruit rot on the vine.

"That was all my son's doing," Magnus said, his chest puffing out slightly. "When I named him Alpha of the Dominion last year, I told him he had to mark his territory with a vengeance. He didn't disappoint. Though, I must say..." Magnus shifted his weight, pulling me back into the circle. "That investigative series you did on the recruitment of unranked pups for the minor leagues? That was truly innovative work."

I saw Marcus give his uncle a silent nod of approval. The whole point of this ceremony was to make the regional scouts and athletes feel like they were part of the Thornridge bloodline. It was a PR maneuver to keep the 'little wolves' loyal to the Dominion’s banner.

It was working. For a second, I actually felt like I belonged.

"Especially for a backwater regional team," a new, jagged voice cut in. "The piece did a marvelous job of dressing up common pack-fluff to look like actual news."

The warmth in the circle died instantly.

Declan’s hand landed on the small of my back a steadying, protective weight as we turned to face the intruder. I didn't recognize him, but he bore the unmistakable scent of a Thornridge. He had an intensity about him that made the hair on my arms stand up. It wasn't the magnetic pull I’d felt from Kael in the Ironclaw Lift; this was a cold, biting frost.

Magnus’s expression turned to stone. "Don't mind Kieran," he said, his voice tight with suppressed growl. "He doesn't hold a rank in the Moonfang Network. His opinion is as worthless as a scent-trail in the rain."

The flash in Kieran’s eyes hinted at a deep, rotting history between them. Marcus’s jaw twitched. I tried to maintain a neutral smile, but the atmosphere had turned toxic.

Then, I felt it.

A massive, overwhelming presence settled at my side. It was a scent of mountain air and dark power that claimed the space before he even spoke. I didn't have to look to know it was Kael. My heart hammered against my ribs, and I found myself unable to meet his eyes, terrified that the 'secret' of the lift would be written across my face for the whole pack to see.

"What Kieran fails to grasp," Kael said, and I felt the vibration of his voice in the very marrow of my bones, "is the difference between a simple story and a hunt that exposes the truth."

"Kael," Marcus warned, his voice low.

Kieran sneered, stepping closer. "And you’ve suddenly become the ultimate authority on truth?"

"We aren't doing this in front of the guests," Magnus commanded.

Kael stepped forward, his hand rising to silence the room. "No, Father. This is a matter of pack standards. The piece Kieran called 'fluff' addressed a deep distrust in our recruitment system. Rowan didn't just report on a scandal; she used it to track the corruption back to its den. That’s what a real hunter does. Everyone in this Citadel knows it.

"But what’s more impressive about the Nightfall Broadcast and Rowan’s work is her ability to build a massive following around socio-political pack issues without resorting to sensationalism or theatrics. Her reports on territory infrastructure and the displacement of low-rank omegas are some of my personal favorites. I could list a dozen more examples of her excellence, whereas I doubt my cousin could name a single athlete honored here tonight."

I kept my gaze fixed on the floor, but I couldn't miss the way Kieran’s nostrils flared in rage. "Cousin?" He let out a harsh, guttural bark of a laugh. "I see how it is."

"Do you? Because I can make it much clearer if you need a demonstration of rank."

Based on the gasps around us, I’m fairly certain Kael offered a gesture that was the shifter equivalent of a death threat.

"Enough," Magnus snapped.

Marcus quickly stepped in, clapping a hand on Kieran’s shoulder. "I’ve got a territory dispute I need your eyes on, Kieran. Let’s take a walk."

It was a blatant move to extract the threat, and Kieran went, though his eyes never left Kael’s as he disappeared into the crowd. A collective sigh of relief rippled through the group.

But I couldn't breathe. Kael was still standing there, and his presence felt like lightning crawling over my skin.

He turned toward me, forcing me to finally look up. He caught my gaze, trapping me in those storm-grey eyes. My heart did a violent, soaring flip in my chest a feeling I hadn't known since I was a teenager.

"We were never formally introduced," he said, reaching out to take my hand. It was a firm, professional grip, but his thumb traced a slow, deliberate line over my knuckles. It felt like a trail of fire. "Kael Thornridge."

"Rowan Ashcroft," I whispered, though it was clear he already knew.

He knew. He’d known my work. He’d probably looked into my history the moment he saw me. He wasn't just my Alpha; he was a man who had been watching me.

"You two have met?" Magnus asked, looking surprised.

"We shared the Ironclaw Lift," Kael said smoothly. He didn't mention the malfunction or the words he’d whispered in the dark. It was another secret between us.

The heat rushed to my face as his earlier threat echoed in my mind: I wonder if we’ll be stuck in here long enough for me to find out what’s underneath.

I felt like I had to say something to break the tension. "He... he admired my dress."

Great Mother, I’m a fool.

Kael’s mouth quirked into a ghost of a smirk, his thumb still grazing my skin. "I did. It’s a very impressive garment."

"Indeed," Magnus agreed, eyeing me with renewed interest.

"That dress," Declan chimed in, stepping closer to remind everyone of his presence. "A necessary investment for a rising star."

I pulled my hand back reluctantly and placed it on Declan’s arm. "Have you met my Lead Producer, Declan Voss?"