VANESSA
I pushed through the glass doors of the bar, the cool evening air a welcome relief after the stuffy atmosphere inside. The business card in my pocket felt heavy, as if laden with potential and uncertainty in equal measure. Alpha Liam Thorne's proposal echoed in my mind, impossible to dismiss.
My phone buzzed again. Another message from the unknown number—from Liam.
"One more thing: The Council isn't just voting on containment. They're discussing complete territorial segregation. Time to choose a side, Princess."
My stomach dropped. Territorial segregation would mean designated areas where rogues would be forced to live, separated from pack territories. Essentially creating rogue ghettos. The implications were horrifying.
I leaned against the building's stone facade, trying to process everything. My foundation wasn't just a charitable project anymore—it was becoming political resistance.
"Rough night?"
