The taxi merged into the night traffic, but Ava's fingers still tingled from where Alexander's knee had brushed hers under the bar. She stared at her reflection in the window—cheeks flushed, pupils dilated, a look she barely recognized. What the hell was that?
Her apartment smelled of jasmine tea and old newspaper clippings when she unlocked the door. She kicked off her heels, dumping her bag on the kitchen counter before fishing out her phone. No missed calls, just a reminder from her editor: Follow up on the Westside animal attacks.
Ava groaned. Three hikers mauled last week, no tracks left behind. The police were calling it a rogue bear, but something about the case gnawed at her. She pulled up the crime scene photos, zooming in on the gashes in the tree bark—too precise for a bear's claws. More like… talons.
Her mind flickered to Alexander's hands. Long, calloused, with veins that had pulsed faintly when he gripped his glass. Ridiculous. She deleted the thought, but it slithered back like a snake.
The next morning, Ava's coffee went cold as she dug into public records. The attack site bordered Blackwood Enterprises' private forest reserve. Coincidence? She dialed the company's PR line, but the receptionist's tone turned icy when Ava mentioned the reserve. "Mr. Blackwood doesn't comment on trivialities, Ms. Thompson."
Trivialities. Right. Three people in critical condition were trivial.
Ava grabbed her press badge and headed downtown. Blackwood Tower loomed over the skyline, its glass facade reflecting the sun like a mirror to heaven. Inside, the lobby reeked of money—marble floors, a chandelier that could've funded a small town, and a receptionist whose lipgloss cost more than Ava's rent.
"I'm here to see Alexander Blackwood," she said, sliding her badge across the desk.
The woman's smile didn't reach her eyes. "Do you have an appointment?"
"No, but—"
"Mr. Blackwood's schedule is booked for months."
Ava leaned in, lowering her voice. "Tell him it's about the Westside attacks. The ones near his reserve."
The receptionist's pen froze. She picked up the phone, murmuring something too quiet to hear. Two minutes later, a man in a tailored suit appeared, his posture rigid as a board. "Ms. Thompson? Follow me."
The elevator shot up 47 floors, pressing Ava back against the wall. When the doors opened, she found herself in a corridor of floor-to-ceiling windows, the city spread out below like a toy set. At the end stood an office door, oak and steel, guarded by two men with the same cold eyes as the receptionist.
The suit knocked once. "She's here, sir."
"Enter."
Alexander sat behind a desk that looked carved from a single tree trunk, his sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms dusted with dark hair. Sunlight slanted through the window, catching the gold watch on his wrist—a family crest, Ava noted, wolves chasing a moon.
"Bold of you to show up uninvited," he said, not looking up from a stack of papers.
"Bold of you to avoid my calls," she shot back, taking a seat without being asked. "Your reserve borders the attack site. Any comment?"
He finally lifted his head. Those blue eyes had sharpened, pupils narrowing like a cat's. "Wild animals aren't my department, Ms. Thompson."
"These weren't wild animals." She pulled out her phone, tapping to the crime scene photos. "Claw marks three inches deep. Bears don't do that. Wolves don't, either."
Alexander's jaw tightened. "You should be careful, digging into things you don't understand."
"Why? Because it might lead to you?"
He stood, and suddenly the room felt too small. He was taller than she remembered, broad-shouldered enough to block the light. "You think this is a game? A story to pad your resume?"
Ava stood too, refusing to back down. "I think three people are in the hospital, and you're hiding something."
For a heartbeat, his gaze dropped to her mouth. Then he stepped back, adjusting his cufflinks as if nothing had happened. "Leave it alone. For your own good."
"Or what? You'll sic your goons on me?"
He laughed, low and bitter. "If I wanted to hurt you, you'd be dead before you hit the lobby."
The threat hung in the air, but Ava found herself thinking of his hands again—how they'd trembled when the rowdies burst in. He's scared. Not of me. Of something else.
A voice cut through the tension. "Alexander? You're needed in the conference room."
A man leaned against the doorframe, his smile lazy, his suit a shade of purple that should've looked absurd but didn't. Same dark hair as Alexander, same sharp cheekbones, but his eyes were hazel, warm where Alexander's were cold.
"Lorenzo," Alexander said, his tone hardening. "This is Ava Thompson, a journalist."
Lorenzo's gaze raked over Ava, slow and deliberate. "A journalist. How… refreshing." He winked. "Don't let my cousin scare you, darling. He barks louder than he bites."
Alexander's fist clenched. "Leave us."
Lorenzo held up his hands, backing away. "Touchy, touchy. See you later, Alex."
The door clicked shut. Alexander turned back to Ava, his composure restored. "Get out. And lose my number."
She headed for the door, pausing with her hand on the knob. "I don't have your number."
He didn't reply.
In the elevator, Ava's heart raced. Not from fear—from excitement. Alexander Blackwood was hiding something, and whatever it was, it was tied to those attacks. She pulled out her phone, Googling "Blackwood family history + Westside."
The first result made her breath catch: a 1927 newspaper clipping, Local Farmer Mauled Near Blackwood Estate. Witnesses Report "Beast Like a Wolf, But Not a Wolf."
Ava smiled. Game on.
Down in the lobby, Lorenzo stood by the door, scrolling through his phone. He looked up as she passed, falling into step beside her. "You're playing with fire, Ms. Thompson."
"Just doing my job."
"Alexander doesn't… share well. Especially not with humans." He held out a business card, gold embossed. "If you ever need a ally, call me. I'd love to hear what you dig up."
Ava took the card, tucking it into her pocket. "Why help me?"
Lorenzo's smile turned sharp. "Because watching Alexander squirm is my favorite hobby."
Outside, the sun had dipped behind a cloud. Ava glanced up at the tower, imagining Alexander watching her from his window. She wondered if he knew she'd found the clipping. If he knew she wasn't going to stop.
Somewhere in the distance, a wolf howled.
Ava shivered.
Not from cold.
From anticipation.