I was still reeling, my mind replaying the moment over and over. The silver chain pressed against Benny's skin, the blistering, the hiss of pain, his eyes glowing with rage and something else. Fear.
Everything Alistair had said suddenly made sense and didn't make sense at the same time. How could this be possible? Why did lycans actually exist? This couldn't be real. But I'd seen it with my own eyes. I'd heard Benny's growl, watched his skin burn.
"What were you doing here?" I asked, voice shaky. "I mean, you showing up at this exact moment...it doesn't feel like a coincidence."
Alistair smirked and lifted one hand, pointing through the diner's front window. Across the street stood a massive glass and steel building I'd passed countless times. More than passed, actually—I'd submitted my résumé there once and never heard back.
Power Fin. LTD.
I'd held a silent grudge against that place for months.
"That's my office. I'm the CFO," he said simply.
I blinked. Once. Twice. "You're… the CFO?"
"CFO. Yes." The smile that tugged his lips was smug. "I came to grab a cup of coffee before heading up to the office. Convenient, isn't it?"
Before I could respond, Corey appeared at our table with two steaming cups of coffee, setting one in front of each of us. She greeted Alistair with the easy familiarity of a regular customer, then squeezed my hand reassuringly.
"This one's on the house, honey," she said softly.
"Thank you," I managed, my voice still shaky.
After Corey walked away, I leaned forward. "Did you see what happened? How the silver blistered him?"
"I saw." Alistair wrapped his hands around his coffee cup. "Silver affects most wolves. All of them, actually, to varying degrees. It's one of the few weaknesses they have."
"How did you think to carry silver?" he asked, studying me with those unnervingly sharp eyes.
"I didn't think about it. I've always had it with me." I pulled the chain from my pocket, letting it pool in my palm. "It was one of the few things my late mother made me wear all the time. She would panic or get delusional if the chain wasn't around my neck, so I wore it to keep her calm. After she died, it became a habit. I still carry it in my pocket even when I don't wear it." I paused. "And silver burns werewolves in movies, so I panicked and threw it at Benny without knowing if it would actually work."
Alistair nodded slowly, listening to me ramble without interrupting.
I knew he could tell I was rambling out of fear, but I couldn't stop myself. The question burst out before I could hold it back.
"How did you actually know about werewolves?" I asked. "Not the research excuse you gave me. You had to have met one to be so sure about all this... or I don't know... be one yourself?"
Alistair took a slow sip of his coffee, a slight smile playing at his lips. A small, knowing smile.
I really looked at him then. Alistair was genuinely handsome. His black hair was glossy and fell to his neck, the front strands brushing against his cheeks each time he moved. His dark blue eyes seemed even more striking in daylight—almost like a frozen sea. The bluest sea. Sharp jaw, straight nose, the kind of face that belonged on magazine covers.
He wore a coat over what looked like expensive work attire, but even with the coverage, it was clear his body was well-built.
Who on earth was this guy?
"Finish your coffee and follow me," he said finally. "I'll tell you everything."
"Why should I follow you?" I challenged. "You're a stranger I've met twice."
"What reason do you have not to follow? Considering what happened just now, I doubt you would want to be alone." he countered smoothly. "And if we're meeting for the second time, we're not strangers anymore."
Damn. He was right. I nodded carefully and picked up my second cup of coffee for the day.
He waited patiently as I drank my coffee, then casually pulled out two twenty-dollar bills and tucked them under our cups before standing and walking toward the door.
I briefly considered snagging one of the twenties, then shook my head at myself and followed him.
~~*~~
I caught up to his long, confident strides as he led me across the street toward Power Fin. LTD. Inside, the lobby was warm and inviting—like stepping into a large, comforting gulp of coffee. Alistair navigated through the people inside with ease, and soon we reached an elevator. He gestured for me to enter first, then followed and pressed the button for the 36th floor.
My eyes widened. "Your office is on the 36th floor?"
"Top floor," he confirmed.
Top floor. I mimicked childishly in my head. Of course he had the top floor.
In the elevator, Alistair spoke again. "Since we've met now, I'll just have you sign the work agreement contract so you can start immediately."
I nodded, my mind still spinning.
Benny is a wolf.
Werewolves are real.
Benny is a werewolf.
Benny is a wolf!
The mantra kept repeating in my head. Like a broken record. I saw it but I don't want to believe it. Who else had seen it at the diner?
When we reached the 36th floor, I noticed it was quieter than the lobby. A woman at the reception desk looked up when we entered. She smiled at Alistair warmly, then at me, though the question was evident in her eyes.
"Morning Mr. Reed."
"Morning Lena."
Alistair's office was massive. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a panoramic view of the city, and I could clearly see Jerry's Diner from where I stood. No wonder he flagged down a repair of a four thousand dollars rear window.
"Take a seat," He gestured to the chair across from his desk—a huge slab of mahogany that probably cost more than my apartment.
He pulled out a clipboard that looked like it had been prepared in advance and slid it toward me with a pen. "Take your time reading it."
"You said you were going to explain things to me," I reminded him.
He sighed and gestured at the contract. "Start reading."
As I began scanning the document, he started talking.
"Lycanthropy began as a curse placed on certain ancestors. Over time, it evolved into something else—a gift. A sign of superiority." His voice was calm, almost professorial. "Werewolves have lived among humans for centuries. They helped humanity, protected them. But there was one rule they were never supposed to break: revealing their true nature. Despite that, they shared one thing in common with humans—hearts."
I kept reading. Standard assistant duties. Hours. Salary that made my stomach flip. 3000 dollars a week! A confidentiality clause that went on for pages. Damn, how rich was he?
"Wolves began falling in love with humans. Getting married. But most humans didn't know they were marrying werewolves. When they found out, they felt deceived. Betrayed. So they tried to kill them." He paused. "Eventually, both sides agreed to stay separate. Wolves within packs were forbidden from marrying humans. Anyone who dared was banished or killed."
I glanced up briefly but didn't interrupt.
"The hybrid children born from those unions were divided," he continued. "The ones who remained human after birth were left to live among humans. The ones who showed signs of shifting were taken back into the packs. But werewolves tend to seek out the hybrid children who grew up human. They try to mate with them, since they're technically not fully human. It's not against pack law."
I stopped reading and looked up. "How can wolves identify a grown hybrid human if they don't look like wolves?"
"Each wolf carries a scent," Alistair explained. "Werewolves have an extremely acute sense of smell. They can identify hybrids by scent alone."
"Damn dogs," I muttered under my breath.
He chuckled.
I finished reading and signed the contract, sliding it back across the desk. "Why do you know all of this? It seems too detailed and personal for simple research."
He tilted his head, observing me for a long moment. Then he stood from his chair and removed his coat, revealing a crisp white button-up shirt. He hung the coat over his chair and walked around the desk toward me, rolling up one sleeve to his elbow.
My eyes widened at the sight of his forearm—strong, veined, and marked with something that made my breath catch.
He stopped in front of me and held out his wrist. There was a tattoo, or rather, what looked like a burn mark that had been tattooed over. It was intricate and painful-looking: what appeared to be fangs arranged in a circle.
My hand reached out instinctively to touch it, but I hesitated and pulled back. "I'm sorry. That was inappropriate."
"It's fine," he said with a small smile.
"What does it mean?" I asked quietly.
"Hybrid children who shift into wolves later in life are branded," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. "Burned with iron stamps. It's a mark of shame. A reminder to everyone of their parents' mistakes."
My heart stopped as the meaning sank in.
"Then... why do you have it?" I whispered.
He rolled his sleeve back down and walked back to his chair without answering.
My heart pounded as the pieces clicked together.
"So you're also a werewolf?" I blurted out. "You're half-werewolf?"
"I'm a hybrid," he confirmed, settling back into his chair.
The office suddenly felt suffocatingly small. My conscience tilted.
"What are you saying?" I asked, understanding and confusion crashing together in my mind.
"I'm saying that werewolves exist, Faye. I didn't tell you what I said yesterday just because I've seen one. I am one." His tone was matter-of-fact. "And this building is full of them. They're my pack. My family. And I'm their Alpha." He paused, letting that sink in. "Including your ex-boyfriend, Benny."
My knees felt like they were melting. I stared at Alistair like he'd just spoken in a completely foreign language.
He was the Alpha.
This building was full of shifting beasts.
Benny belonged to this pack.
Alistair was the Alpha!
Just now, I'd just signed a contract to work for the leader of a building full of monsters?
What had I just walked into?