C7

"The line is growing long, and my mother is waiting for me upstairs," Elowen replies, her voice firm behind her mask. "Pay the keeper. You can return it if you see me again."

Reluctantly, the male takes the note and hands it to the shopkeeper, quickly grabbing his parcel.

He waits outside the doorway of the depot as Elowen pays for her own small basket of toiletries. The moment she steps out into the cold street air, he steps up beside her, holding a black leather credit pouch he had just retrieved from a black SUV idling across the cobblestones.

"I pulled my backup pouch from the patrol car," he says, pulling out a crisp one-hundred-credit bill and handing it toward her. "Thank you for saving my hide back there. Please, take this and keep the extra as a gesture of goodwill from Lagos Holdings."

Elowen reaches into her coat, pulling out fifty credits of her own change and pressing it back into his gloved hand alongside the one-hundred-credit note, keeping only her original amount.

"We are even," Elowen says simply, adjusting her dark hood over her face. "I do not take charity."

The male blinks in surprise, then lets out a warm, genuine laugh that reveals a row of bright, even teeth. "You have a sharp tongue for someone hiding behind a mask. I am Alton Prescott, secondary enforcer to Harrison Beckett."

Elowen’s heart skips a violent beat at the name Harrison Beckett. Harrison is Calloway Sterling’s chief pack enforcer—the man who stands directly at the High Alpha's right hand.

"I need to go," Elowen says abruptly, backing away from him onto the frozen pavement.

"Wait, Miss!" Alton calls out, stepping forward with a puzzled look. "Can I at least get your name or your pack affiliation? If High Alpha Calloway finds out I let a civilian pay for Lagos Holdings supplies without properly logging the reimbursement, he will have me running border patrols for a month!"

"Do not worry about it," Elowen snaps coldly, turning on her heel and picking up her pace, merging quickly into the dense crowd of shoppers moving through the central square.

Her heart hammers against her ribs as she navigates the busy streets. She cannot afford to interact with anyone tied to Lagos Holdings or the Sterling Family. Alton Prescott is a enforcer who moves in Calloway's inner circle. If he looks at her face too closely, or if he reports her presence to Harrison Beckett, the fragile wall shielding her mother’s location will crumble instantly.

She reaches the side entrance of the Sterling Crown Medical Center, slipping through the heavy metal doors and rushing into the central lobby. The grand hall is packed with civilians, beta nurses, and low-ranked pack members waiting for routine consultations.

Elowen moves quickly toward the main line of elevators, noticing the light above the third shaft flashing as the doors begin to slide shut.

"Hold the door! Please!" Elowen shouts, sprinting across the marble floor with her basket tucked tightly under her arm.

A long, muscular arm reaches out between the sliding metal doors, catching the sensor edge and forcing the heavy doors back open.

"Thank you," Elowen breathes out, ducking her head low as she squeezes herself into the cramped elevator car.

The car is suffocatingly full. Betas and low-level alpha guards are packed shoulder-to-shoulder, forcing Elowen deeper into the back corner of the lift. As the doors seal shut, the lift surges upward, and another pair of guards step backward to make room, shoving Elowen hard against the rear wall of the car.

She stumbles back, her spine coming into hard, direct contact with a broad, solid chest standing directly behind her in the dark corner.

The moment her back touches the towering body behind her, a violent, electrifying shockwave ripples straight down her spine, making her skin burn with an intense, terrifying heat. Her breath catches instantly in her throat. Her internal wolf, dormant and weak for days, suddenly leaps to violent life in her chest, howling with a fierce, possessive recognition that shatters her senses.

An overwhelming, intoxicating aroma floods her nostrils—a lethal, intoxicating blend of dark pine, cold snow, and absolute, dominant alpha power.

Elowen's eyes go wide with pure terror behind her mask. She knows that scent. She would recognize it if she were blind, deaf, and buried six feet under the snow.

It is Calloway Sterling.

Elowen freezes completely, her entire body rigid as ice. She dares not move a single muscle, her lungs straining for air under her cloth mask as she stares straight ahead at the metal doors.

Directly behind her, the broad, towering body shifts slightly. A heavy, gloved hand rises from his side, resting lightly against the wall right beside her ear, boxing her into the corner.

Through the thin fabric of her worn brown coat, she can feel the scorching heat radiating off his massive chest, pressing right against her shoulder blades. His deep, steady heartbeat thumps against her back, heavy and unyielding.

Calloway slowly lowers his head in the crowded, silent elevator, his face coming down until his sharp jawline hovers mere inches from the bare skin of her dark neck right above her collar.

Elowen feels his deep, slow inhale against her skin—a deliberate, lethal alpha taking in the air around her neck.

Slowly, without a word, Calloway reaches up with his other hand. His large, warm fingers slide into his coat pocket, pulling out a sleek, folded pair of clear-lens glasses.

Elowen watches his reflection in the polished metal doors of the elevator. With agonising slowness, Calloway Sterling opens the frames—one temple at a time—and slips the clear-lens glasses onto his face. His dark blue eyes lock directly onto her reflection in the metal wall, burning through her mask with terrifying, possessive recognition.

"Found you," Calloway growls softly against her ear, his deep voice sending a scorching shiver straight down into her thighs.