LOGINLana's POV The air in Maison’s office wasn’t just charged; it was claustrophobic. His words hung between us, not as a question, but as a foregone conclusion he expected me to simply accept. A cold, clear anger, sharper than any I’d felt with Bastien, cut through my shock. “You know I have a boyfriend,” I said, my voice flat and devoid of the tremor he probably expected. “I do,” he acknowledged, unbothered. “A fact that is, frankly, irrelevant to me and, if we’re being honest, to the current you seem to be putting off. He’s a placeholder. A security blanket.” “He’s my partner,” I fired back, taking a deliberate step forward instead of back, meeting his pale grey gaze head-on. “And even if he weren’t, this would be grossly inappropriate. You’re my CEO. I’m a junior coordinator. This isn’t a challenge, Maison, it’s harassment. And I have zero professional or personal interest in you.” A spark ignited in his eyes. Not offense, but fascination. “Harassment is such an ugly, bureaucra
Lana's POV The invitation lay in my hands like a lead weight, the elegant calligraphy blurring before my eyes. Blackthorn. The name echoed with a resonance only someone who’d lived in the shadow of packs would understand. The key turned in the lock. Bastien walked in, shaking rain from his coat. His eyes went immediately to the envelope in my hands, then to my face. He didn’t look surprised. He looked resigned. “It came,” he stated, hanging his coat with slow, deliberate movements. “You knew it would.” “Ronan would have to respond.This is how he responds. By forcing our hand in public.” He walked to the island, pouring himself a whiskey, neat. He didn’t offer me one. “We have to go.” “I want to go,” I said, my voice surprising me with its steadiness. Bastien’s head snapped up. “What?” “I want to go,” I repeated, setting the invitation down. “I want to see him. I want to look him in the eye and have him see that I’m not broken. That I made a choice and I’m living with it.” I
Lana's POV It was my first day at work and well it was a lot since I had been away fromn working for so long. It buzzed with a different kind of energy. Not the electric fear of the supernatural, but the nervous-excited hum of a new beginning. Bastien dropped me off a block away, his jaw tight. The unspoken argument about Maison hung between us, but he’d kept his word of no more hovering. Just a terse, “Call me when you’re done,” before he drove off. Walking the last steps alone, carrying a new leather notebook and a determined hope, felt like a victory. “Lana! Over here!” Chloe waved from under the building’s awning, a splash of color in a sea of grey suits. Today her hair had blue streaks to match her eyeglass frames. “First day! Ready to dive into the beautiful chaos?” “Ready as I’ll ever be,” I laughed, falling into step beside her. Her easy warmth was a lifeline. “Okay, quick intel,” she whispered as we rode the elevator up. “Demarchelier is in Milan for a fabric show fo
Ronan's POV The engine was cold. It ran on the frozen fuel of my will, and it was starting to grind. Kaelia stood before my desk in the east-wing office, her report delivered in a crisp, professional tone. “Finn’s movements are routine. Perimeter checks, drills with his team, meals in the hall. He communicates with Idris about security protocols, with the quartermaster about supplies. No unusual contacts. No secret meetings. He’s quiet, but he’s clean.” I stared at the map on the wall behind her, not seeing the lines of territory. “Quiet can be a cover. Silence can be planning.” “Or it can be a man who spoke out of turn, lost, and is now keeping his head down to avoid losing more,” Kaelia said carefully. She was the only one who dared offer a counter-opinion anymore. “The pack is tense, Alpha. They jump at shadows. Some of it is the threat from the Witch. Most of it is you.” My gaze snapped to her. “Are you questioning my leadership, Kaelia?” “I’m reporting the atmosphere,” she
Lana's POV Bastien was angry and it was getting very visible. The air on the busy sidewalk cracked with a tension no one around us could perceive and it was probably for the best. Maison, to his credit, didn’t flinch. He merely looked Bastien up and down with the same detached, assessing glance he’d given me, a slight, unimpressed smirk playing on his lips. He saw a large, angry man. He didn’t see the werewolf, the warrior, the brother of an Alpha. “No problem at all,” Maison drawled, his voice smooth as polished glass. “Just concluding some business. You are…?” “Her partner,” Bastien bit out, the word ‘partner’ sounding more like ‘owner.’ “Charmed,” Maison said, his tone implying the exact opposite. His gaze flicked to me, that calculating gleam returning. “I can see you have… robust security, Ms. Hubbard. How modern.” The insult was veiled in civility, a skill Bastien lacked entirely. “Bastien, it’s fine,” I said, stepping forward and placing a hand on his rock-hard forearm.
Lana's POV He was arrogant. That one was for sure out of the way. I felt the heat in my cheek cool because a smug man in a tailored suit wasn’t going to make me crumble. I straightened my shoulders, the papers now neatly secured in my hands. “Being early is a sign of respect for other people’s time,” I said, my voice clear and carrying in the quiet corridor. “And scrambling to fix a minor accident shows initiative, not clumsiness. But I suppose interpreting basic courtesy as desperation is a… unique management perspective.” Maison Thorne, already several paces away, stopped. He turned slowly, those pale grey eyes narrowing with fresh interest. He hadn’t expected a retort. He’d expected cowering, apologies. “A unique management perspective,” he repeated, a smirk touching his lips. It wasn’t friendly. It was the look of a chess player spotting an unexpected move. “And you base this analysis on your extensive corporate experience, do you? From what I glimpsed on your fleeing pa







