C-4

Chelsea Wren POV

“Turn it up. I want to hear every word.”

The main screen in Wrencrest Media House floods with the Sloan pack press gathering. Everett Sloan stands at the podium, his voice smooth and practiced.

“The male in those photos is me. The female is not a bar girl. She is my private mate. We have kept the relationship quiet until now. I am announcing our mate bond ceremony will take place under the next full moon.”

Chelsea’s claws itch under her skin. She hits the power button hard enough to rattle the keyboard. The screen goes black.

Around her, the office shifts. Whispers start low, then grow teeth.

“I knew my Prince of the Sloan pack would never touch a bar girl.”

“Whoever leaked those shots is pure trash.”

“I heard Chelsea Wren did it. She wanted her half-blood sister’s male for herself.”

“She looks so soft. Turns out she is the worst kind of liar.”

Eyes slide toward Chelsea’s desk like blades. Her wolf snarls.

Honora Finch is already on her feet. “You know nothing. Shut your mouths.”

A female correspondent sneers. “Everyone knows. If Chelsea is clean, why did Everett Sloan name her?”

“She probably threw herself at him, got rejected, and decided to burn the whole pack.”

“I feel sorry for her sister. Having a snake like that in the pack.”

Honora’s voice drops to a growl. “One more word and I will teach every one of you a lesson.”

She rolls her sleeves. The correspondents step back, but the venom does not stop.

Chelsea rises to pull her friend away. Someone in the cluster shoves hard. Chelsea stumbles. The sharp edge of a desk rushes up.

She never hits it.

A solid arm locks around her waist. Another hand cups the back of her head. She lands against a broad chest that smells of winter pine and pure Alpha dominance.

The entire floor freezes.

Chelsea’s face is pressed to black fabric. She hears a steady heartbeat. Her own pulse spikes.

She tips her head back. Alastair Crowhurst looks down at her, eyes cold and assessing.

“You…” The word slips out.

Whispers explode.

“Is that Alpha Crowhurst?”

“No way. Why would he set foot in Wrencrest?”

“He just caught her. Did you see that?”

Alastair ignores every voice. His tone stays low, meant only for her. “Are you hurt?”

“No. Thank you.” Chelsea’s voice comes out thinner than she likes.

“Be more careful.”

He steadies her on her feet and steps back as if the contact never happened. His gaze lifts to the Pack Administrator of Wrencrest Media House, who has gone pale at the edge of the chaos.

“Is the working atmosphere here always this lively?”

The Administrator forces a stiff smile. “I apologize for the disorder, Alpha. Please, this way to my office. We can discuss the entertainment project at once.”

Alastair gives a short nod and follows. He does not look at Chelsea again.

The second the door closes, the office detonates.

“He is even more perfect in person.”

“That is the male every pack female dreams about.”

“He held Chelsea like she weighed nothing. I would have fainted.”

Honora stares at the closed door, then at Chelsea. “What just happened?”

Chelsea’s laugh is bitter. “They were ready to rip me apart over Everett. One appearance from the Alpha and suddenly I am invisible.”

Honora’s expression softens. “Are you okay? You almost cracked your skull.”

“I am fine. You nearly started a pack brawl for me. Thank you.”

“Those bitches needed the reminder. Next time I will not stop at words.” Honora leans closer. “Why is Alpha Crowhurst even here? Wrencrest has been begging for a project deal for two years. He never answered. Today he walks in himself?”

Chelsea shakes her head. “I do not know.”

A small, traitorous thought whispers that he came because of the scandal, because of her. She crushes it. They barely know each other. A strategic mate bond does not mean he will cross the city for her.

Honora is still buzzing. “Whatever the reason, he is a thousand times the male Everett will ever be. The way he caught you? Pure Alpha. Everett looks like a pup beside him.”

Chelsea’s voice goes quiet. “I spent years thinking Everett was the safe choice. I could not tell a wolf from a sheep.”

Honora pulls her into a quick, fierce hug. “Everyone gets one mistake. You saw the truth in time. You are strong, pretty, and damn good at your job. Someone better is coming. When he does, you can walk past Everett and Cressida like they are nothing.”

Guilt twists under Chelsea’s ribs. Honora has always stood between her and the world. She deserves the truth about the mate bond. But Chelsea was the one who asked Alastair to keep it quiet. She cannot break the first rule she set.

Her phone vibrates on the desk.

A new message sits on the lock screen, sender listed only as Crowhurst.

The preview line is short and sharp.

Office. Five minutes. We need to talk about your half-blood sister’s next move.