Kael Thorne woke with a start, chest heaving, sweat slicking his skin. The scenes from the forest had burned behind his closed eyelids. The screams, the bullets, Cameron's death, Lucien's sacrifice, Lyre sprawled on the ground. His wolf growled inside him, restless, hungry for retribution he could never fully satisfy.
Morning light cut through the heavy curtains, but it did nothing to soften the memory. It never did.
He sat up on the edge of his bed, muscles taut, chest still hammering. He wiped the sweat from his brow, long fingers brushing through dark hair, and stretched, letting the stiffness of sleep, and nightmares, roll out of his body. His wolf growled beneath the surface, restless and alert, coiled with the memory of loss and blood.
His gaze fell on the television across the room and moved away. He had forgotten to turn it off the previous night. The news channels cycled through mundane updates, traffic accidents, political debates, stock tickers.
Then a soft, clear voice cut through the noise.
"…and in tonight's investigative report, we examine the reemergence of hunter cells who have sworn to rid this country of the beasts they claim plague it..."
Kael's hands that had come up to push his hair back stilled and his eyes snapped back to the screen.
The woman behind the microphone had fiery red, curling hair framing a sharp, focused face. Her voice was soft and crisp, commanding attention effortlessly. Something about the way she spoke, confident and unflinching, made him look closely at her just for a fraction of a second.
He had seen a lot in his life, faced countless dangers, but her voice… it made him pay attention. Not with desire. Just… intrigue.
Morrigan Donovan.
He read the name displayed on the screen. He didn't know her. He had never met her. And yet, even from the screen, her presence left a faint imprint, like a stone dropped in still water. He noted her poise, the regal way she tilted her head, but then blinked and turned away.
She was irrelevant. He had responsibilities, his pack and his investments were all that mattered.
A knock cut through his thoughts.
"Come in."
Devin stepped inside, a folded paper in hand. He was Kael's second in command, and the closest thing he had to a friend.
"The Moon Glade pack was attacked again."
Kael frowned. "Hunters?"
"Yes." Devin dropped onto the bed with a frustrated growl. "Reports are coming in." He hesitated. "Also… you've been invited to the Husbury Gala. The Alpha of Glenwood will be there."
Kael rose, muscles shifting beneath his black pyjamas. He ignored the lingering image of the woman on the screen.
"I'll go," he said, voice low, and curt. "Prep the convoy."
By the time Kael stepped outside, his security detail had formed a precise barrier around him. People instinctively moved aside, clearing his path. He walked with effortless authority, long strides eating up the distance as though the space belonged to him.
Attention followed him. Women whispered and sighed. Men watched with thinly veiled envy. Kael barely noticed. His focus was already on the Silverstone Council and the Moon Glade leader.
The venue loomed ahead, elegant and imposing. A queue stretched before the entrance, but Kael didn't slow. His security cleared the way.
A loud voice rang out. The voice was sharp, clear, and irritated.
"Hey! Excuse me!" She stepped towards him, but his security prevented her from coming close. "You're supposed to join the queue, Not work your way inside because you're influential."
Kael turned his head briefly.
Red hair, bright eyes, sharp and indignant.
Recognition sparked faintly, It was the same woman from the broadcast.
Morrigan Donovan.
He said nothing. Not a word. He turned back toward the doors as security paved the way for him.
"Did you hear me?" she called again, louder, frustration and irritation threading her tone.
Her lips pressed into a thin line. She wasn't used to being ignored. She narrowed her eyes and stepped closer, just enough to be seen.
Kael glanced at her once more, registering the intelligence in her gaze. Beautiful, yes. Persistent, yes, but still irrelevant.
He walked inside without looking back.
"Rude," Morrigan muttered, adjusting her camera bag as she rejoined the queue.
When the line stalled, she waited a beat, exhaled, then slipped out and blended into another group gaining entry.
No one stopped her.
Inside, Morrigan paused to take in the opulence. Crystal chandeliers spilled golden light across marble floors. Gilded walls reflected the swirl of gowns and tailored suits. A string quartet played softly, threading through polite laughter and the clink of glasses. Floral arrangements towered in the corners, lush and expensive.
She took it in for half a second.
Then she went to work.
She moved through the room with practiced ease, posture relaxed, eyes sharp. She scanned faces, movements, patterns. This wasn't admiration. It was assessment.
A security guard headed her way. Morrigan pivoted smoothly, disappearing into the crowd. Reporters were not welcome here. She had to stay invisible.
She was growing bored when she saw him again.
The rude man.
He stood near the center of the room, speaking with an older man whose silver hair and posture radiated authority. Kael listened more than he spoke, but when he did, his tone was calm and commanding.
That prickle returned.
Her gaze lingered a second too long.
He looked up and their eyes met.
For a heartbeat, the world narrowed.
Then he looked away, dismissive.
Morrigan's jaw tightened. "Asshole."
She grabbed a champagne flute and downed it in one motion, wincing as the burn hit her throat. Bad idea. She knew it.
Her grandfather's voice echoed in her head.
Again, Morrigan. You can do better.
She grabbed another drink, this time holding it steady.
Across the room, Kael heard the muttered insult and let out a low chuckle.
"Am I amusing you?" Zerathon, Alpha of Glenwood, asked.
"Not at all."
Zerathon continued, discussing alliances, territorial pressure, unrest along the borders. Kael listened, responding when necessary, but his attention kept drifting back to her.
This was a private gathering. No press. And yet there she was, attempting to blend in, failing in subtle ways. The way she scanned the room. The way she watched instead of admired. The way the light shone on her fiery hair.
Intriguing.
He didn't need to turn to her to know where she was at the moment. He wondered what her reaction would be if she knew that he heard the insult. It was amusing. Being called an asshole wasn't something he got to experience everyday.
When the conversation ended, Kael excused himself and headed for the bar. He ordered whiskey.
He had barely taken a sip when her scent reached him.
"So," she said lightly, "is ignoring people your full-time job, or just a hobby?"
He didn't look at her.
Didn't respond.
She scoffed. "Wow. Consistent."
Still nothing.
"You know," she continued, "for someone with that much security and ego, you're terrible at manners."
That did it.
Kael turned slowly. "Do you always talk this much," he asked, "or am I special?"
Kael turned his head slowly, blue eyes cool, assessing. "Do you always talk this much," he asked, voice low, "or am I special?"
She blinked, then laughed. "Oh, you're definitely special. Just not how you think."
"Don't you have to be?"
Before she could reply, hands grabbed her shoulders from behind.
"You're not supposed to be here," a guard snapped. He glanced nervously at Kael. "We apologize, sir."
"Unhand me," Morrigan snapped. "Right now."
"Is that how you treat a lady?" Kael said mildly.
"Sir?"
"Let her go. She's with me."
The guard hesitated.
Kael's gaze hardened. "Are you defying my order?"
Fear flickered across the man's face. He released her immediately.
Morrigan smoothed her dress. "I didn't need your help."
"I don't care," Kael replied. "Go away."
She bristled. "What are you going to do? Ignore me harder?"
He stood.
She sucked in a breath.
He was taller than she expected. Solid and dominant.
"Why do you enjoy sticking your nose where it doesn't belong?" he asked.
"Why do you enjoy being rude when people call you out?"
He flicked her forehead with two fingers.
Not hard. Just enough.
"Mind yourself."
The contact sent a spark through her.
"Oh," she said slowly. "I already like you less."
"Good," he replied. "Stay in your lane, short stuff."
Morrigan's mouth fell open in surprise.
"Huh? Who are you calling...?"
He didn't wait for her to complete her sentence and walked away.
Kael slid into his car and closed his eyes.
For the first time that night, his wolf stirred.
Not with rage.
But interest.