68th floor, Voss Atelier, Manhattan.
10:55 a.m.
The whole office was black and gold.
Black marble floors. Gold veins running through them like frozen lightning.
One entire wall was glass. New York City knelt sixty-eight floors below.
I stood with my back to the door, pretending to check emails on the huge screen.
In the reflection, I watched the elevator numbers climb.
67… 68. Ding.
The doors slid open.
He stepped out alone. No bodyguards. He never needed them.
Alpha Ryan Blackwood.
Five years had only made him more dangerous.
The boy I knew was gone. This was a man carved from war and winter.
Black suit, black shirt, no tie. The top two buttons open, showing the edge of the black wolf tattoo on his collarbone.
His hair was cut shorter, almost military. A thin white scar cut through his left eyebrow (new).
Ice-blue eyes scanned the room like he was walking into enemy territory.
Claire tried to speak. "Alpha Blackwood, Ms. Voss is—"
"It's fine, Claire." My voice floated across the room, calm and sharp. "Close the door."
Click.
Silence.
He walked forward, slow. Every step deliberate.
Ten feet away, he stopped.
His nostrils flared.
Once. Twice.
He smelled it.
The mate bond. Still there. Still screaming after five years of silence.
I had bathed in three layers of the most expensive perfume in Paris, but nothing ever killed that scent completely.
His eyes snapped to me.
Dark. Confused. Hungry.
I turned around slowly, one hand resting on the desk.
"Good morning, Alpha Blackwood."
I let my red lips curve, just enough. "You're early. I like punctual men."
He didn't answer right away.
He was too busy staring.
At my face. My body. My eyes.
I wore a white silk blouse tucked into a tight black pencil skirt. Heels so high they should be illegal.
Hair straight and shiny, falling to my waist.
Makeup sharp enough to cut glass.
I was not the crying girl he rejected in the rain.
"You…" His voice came out rough. "You smell familiar."
I raised an eyebrow. "Do I? Must be the new Tom Ford. Very exclusive."
He took another step closer.
I didn't move.
His gaze traveled over me again, slower this time.
Searching. Hunting for something he couldn't name.
I broke the silence. "Please. Sit."
I pointed to the black leather chair in front of my desk.
He sat, but his body was coiled, ready to attack.
I walked around the desk, heels clicking like gunshots.
I stopped right in front of him, close enough that my knees almost touched his.
"So," I said, voice soft, "an engagement ring for Scarlett."
His shoulders went stiff.
"Yes." One word. Cold. Final.
I smiled, slow and sweet and deadly.
"She must be very happy. Five years is a long time to wait for a proposal."
His eyes flashed. "You know who she is?"
"I read the wolf gossip sites, Alpha. Everyone knows Scarlett is your chosen Luna."
I tilted my head. "Congratulations."
I reached for the leather portfolio on my desk.
Opened it. Took out the sketch I drew at 4 a.m. while Leo slept beside me.
Black diamond. Ten carats. Surrounded by blood-red rubies shaped like wolf fangs.
Dark. Beautiful. Dangerous. Perfect for her.
I held it out to him.
"Tell me if this is dramatic enough for your future wife."
He reached.
Our fingers touched.
Boom.
Electricity shot through my whole body, white-hot.
The mate bond roared like it had been starving for five years.
Ryan's eyes went fully black.
He grabbed my wrist, hard, yanking me forward so I almost fell across the desk.
The sketch fluttered to the floor.
His claws came out, just a little, pricking my skin.
"Who the hell are you?" he growled, voice barely human.
I didn't pull away.
I leaned in instead, so close I could feel his breath on my lips.
"I'm Eva Voss," I whispered. "The best designer in the world. And right now, I'm the only woman who can give Scarlett the ring she deserves."
His grip tightened. "That scent… that pull… it's impossible."
I laughed, soft and cruel.
"You rejected me, remember? In front of the entire pack. On my eighteenth birthday. In the rain."
I let my voice drop lower. "You said I was too weak. You walked away with her."
His face went white.
He let go of my wrist like I burned him.
Stepped back. One step. Two.
"Aria?" His voice cracked on my name.
I straightened my sleeve where his claws had left tiny red marks.
"Aria is dead," I said coldly. "She died the night you killed her."
He shook his head, slow. "No. The scouts said you vanished. They found blood in the forest. We thought rogues—"
"Creative story." I cut him off. "But I'm very much alive."
I pressed the intercom with one red nail.
"Claire. Alpha Blackwood is leaving now. He suddenly remembered he has somewhere else to be."
The door opened instantly.
Two security guards blocked the doorway, looking ready for a fight.
I pointed a sharp red nail at the elevator.
"Get out, Alpha. Before I call the police."
Ryan looked at me one last time. His eyes were full of shock, pain, and something else.
Obsession.
He turned and walked out.
But as the elevator doors closed, I knew.
This wasn't over.
The hunt had just begun.