Adrian:
"Sit."
I stay on my feet.
My father looks up from the papers spread across his desk. Malcolm Lockwood. Former alpha of the Crescent Bay Pack. The man who's made my life hell for as long as I can remember.
"Richard Harrington called me last night." He sets down his pen with deliberate precision, each movement calculated to demonstrate control. "Care to explain why you told your secretary to hit his daughter?"
"Anastasia slapped her first."
"I don't care who hit who first." His voice climbs higher, echoing off the mahogany-paneled walls. "You defended some random employee over your fiancée in front of the Harringtons. In front of witnesses. Do you have any idea what you've done?"
My hands curl into fists at my sides. "It was inappropriate. I shouldn't have handled it that way."
"Handled it?" Malcolm stands, his chair scraping against the floor. "You humiliated both our families. Richard is furious. Anastasia is devastated. And you're standing here like you did nothing wrong."
"I apologized. What else do you want from me?"
"I want to know what the hell you were thinking." He comes around the desk, getting close enough that I can smell the expensive scotch on his breath even though it's barely past dawn. "Have you forgotten what you signed? The blood oath that binds our families together?"
My stomach clenches hard. I haven't forgotten. I've lived with it crushing my chest for eight years.
"No."
"Then you remember the terms." His eyes bore into mine with the kind of intensity that used to make me flinch when I was younger. "Break this engagement and your mother pays the price. Those were your words when you signed. Your oath."
There it is. The threat he's dangled over my head since I was seventeen years old and stupid enough to think I could protect her.
"I'm not breaking the engagement."
"Then keep your secretary in line." He steps back, disgust written across his face. "I don't care if you're sleeping with her, screwing her in your office, whatever you're doing. But she cannot be an issue again. Richard is already asking questions about who she is, where she came from. The last thing we need is him digging into her background and finding something that gives him more ammunition."
A muscle jumps in my jaw. "There's nothing to find."
"You better hope you're right." Malcolm returns to his desk and picks up his pen like this conversation is already over, like I'm already dismissed. "Because if Richard decides she's a threat to this alliance, he'll eliminate her. And I won't lift a finger to stop him."
The words settle into my bones like ice.
He'll eliminate her.
My wolf goes completely still.
"Are you threatening her?"
"I'm explaining reality." He doesn't even look up. "Keep her professional. Keep her out of pack business. Keep her away from anything that could damage what we've built. Or I'll handle the situation myself. Now get out. I have actual work to do."
I leave before I do something that can't be undone.
Like wrap my hands around his throat and squeeze until he stops breathing.
The drive from the estate back to the city should take thirty minutes. I make it in twenty, my foot heavy on the accelerator, my wolf clawing at my insides demanding I get to her, make sure she's safe, protect what's ours.
By the time I pull up outside her building, my hands are shaking on the steering wheel.
Richard is already asking questions.
He'll eliminate her.
I'll handle it myself.
The threats circle in my head like vultures waiting for something to die.
Raven has no idea what she walked into. She thinks she's just my assistant, here to take notes and manage my calendar. She doesn't know that Malcolm and Richard Harrington destroy anyone who threatens their carefully constructed empire.
And right now, she's a threat.
I pull out my phone and call her.
It rings four times before going to voicemail. Her voice comes through the speaker, professional and distant. "You've reached Raven Stone. Leave a message."
I hang up and immediately call again.
This time it rings twice before voicemail.
She's declining my calls.
I try a third time and it goes straight to voicemail. She turned her phone off or blocked my number.
My wolf snarls. She's ignoring us.
I type out a text with fingers that won't quite cooperate.
We need to talk. Today. It's important.
The message shows delivered. Then read.
No response.
I stare at my phone screen, willing her to answer. To text back. To give me something.
Nothing.
Five minutes pass. Then ten.
My wolf paces in my head, agitated and restless. Something's wrong. Go to her.
"She's probably just busy. It's her day off."
Then why did she read our message and not respond?
I don't have an answer for that.
I look up at her building. Third floor, apartment 3C. The same apartment where I was just last night, cleaning the cut on her lip, close enough to smell her skin.
The front entrance still has that broken lock, hanging loose from the door frame. Anyone could walk right in.
My grip tightens on the steering wheel until my knuckles go white.
I'm reaching for my door handle when the building entrance opens.
Raven steps out.
And every coherent thought in my head evaporates.
She's wearing black leggings and a bright pink sports bra, her hair pulled back in a high ponytail, skin already flushed. She looks like every fantasy I've had for the past three nights, and the fact that another man is seeing her like this makes my jaw tight in a way I don't want to examine.
The man jogs down the steps after her. Athletic build, running shorts and a tank top. He says something that makes her laugh, bright and genuine in a way I've never heard from her before.
Then he touches her.
Just his hand on her lower back, casual and familiar as they start stretching on the sidewalk.
My vision tunnels.
Who the fuck is he?
They're already jogging down the street, side by side, when I start my car.
I follow at a distance, keeping a few car lengths back, my hands gripping the steering wheel hard enough to hurt.
They run four blocks before slowing to a walk outside a smoothie place. Raven is breathing hard, her chest rising and falling. The man says something and she laughs again, pushing at his shoulder playfully.
I'm out of my car before I make the conscious decision to move.
I grab my suit jacket from the back seat and close the distance between us in long strides.
Raven sees me first and her eyes widened with alarm as she spotted me.
"Mr. Lockwood?"
I don't answer. I drape my jacket over her shoulders before she can protest, covering that bare stomach, that sports bra, all of it.
She looks up at me with those amber eyes, confusion flickering across her face. "What are you doing here?"
"We need to talk." My voice comes out rougher than I intended. "In private."
The man steps forward, his expression cautious. "Is everything okay?"
"Who are you?" I direct the question at him even though I'm still looking at her.
"This is my friend." Raven's voice is tight. "And you need to calm down."
"I need to talk to you. Now."
"Adrian." She uses my first name and it stops me. "Give us a minute?"
The man looks between us, clearly trying to figure out what's happening. "You sure?"
"I'm sure. I'll text you later. We can catch up over dinner instead."
Dinner. She's making dinner plans with him right in front of me.
My wolf snarls but I force it down.
The man nods slowly, glances at me one more time like he's memorizing my face, then heads into the smoothie place.
The moment he's out of earshot, Raven rounds on me. "What are you doing here? Are you following me?"
"Yes."
Her eyes go wide. "You can't just follow me around on my day off! That's stalking!"
"I called you several times, you ignored me."
"Because it's Saturday!" She pulls my jacket tighter around herself even as she glares at me. "Whatever you need to discuss can wait until Monday."
"It can't." I step closer, crowding her space. "Get in my car. We need to talk."
"No."
"Raven, this isn't a request."
"And I'm not your employee right now, so you don't get to order me around." She crosses her arms. "Say whatever you came to say and then leave."
"Fine." I drop my voice so only she can hear. "Richard Harrington told you to know your place last night. Do you have any idea what that means?"
"It means he's an asshole who didn't like that I didn't bow to his daughter."
"It means you're in danger." The words come out sharper than I intend. "My father knows you're becoming an issue. Richard knows. And when they decide someone is a threat, that person doesn't just get fired. They disappear."
Some of the fire in her eyes dims. "You're being paranoid."
"I'm being realistic. You're a lone wolf with no pack protection. If they decide you need to be eliminated, no one will even ask questions."
She studies my face for a long moment. "Why do you care so much?"
Because I can't think about anything except you. Because the thought of Malcolm or Richard touching you makes me want to burn down the world.
"Because you work for me," I say instead. "Get in my car. Please."
She looks at my car, then back at me. Something shifts in her expression.
"Five minutes. In your car. Then you leave me alone."
I don't argue. I walk to the passenger side and open the door for her.
She slides in, still wearing my jacket even though she doesn't need to anymore.
I round to the driver's side and get in. The moment I close the door, the air shifts — her scent filling the small space, jasmine and sweat and something underneath that makes my wolf go quiet in a way nothing else does.
"Talk," she says. "You said this was urgent."
"Move out of your apartment."
"You can't be serious."
"I'm serious, Raven." I turn to face her fully. "That building isn't safe. The lock is still broken, and now that Richard sees you as a problem, you're vulnerable."
"I can take care of myself."
"Not against them." Frustration bleeds into my voice. "Richard Harrington doesn't play fair. Neither does my father. Once they decide you're a problem, you won't see them coming."
"So what do you want me to do? Let you lock me away somewhere?"
"Yes."
"No." She shakes her head. "I'm not doing that. I have a life. I'm not going to disappear because you're paranoid."
"This isn't paranoia!" My voice rises and I force myself to lower it. "Look Raven, you're being threatened and my father told me to keep you in line or he'd handle you himself."
Her expression shifts. "Your father said that."
"Yes. And Richard is asking questions about you, about where you came from. If he starts digging and finds something he doesn't like, or if he just decides you're too much of a risk, he'll eliminate the threat."
"And you think that threat is me."
"They think you're a threat. Which makes you one."
She's quiet for a long moment.
I lean closer to her.
"You're a lone wolf and you have no protection. That's how pack politics work."
"So I'm supposed to just let you move me? Let you decide where I live?"
"I'm trying to keep you safe!"
"By controlling me!" She matches my volume. "What makes you think you're better than them?"
The words hit like a physical blow because she's right.
"What do you want?"
"I want to keep my apartment. I want to do my job without you showing up uninvited." She takes a breath. "You following me, putting your jacket on me in public, it's making everything worse. Richard told me to know my place because he saw how you looked at me. Your father is suspicious because you can't stay away. Every time you try to protect me, you paint a bigger target on my back."
She's absolutely right and I hate it.
"So what am I supposed to do? Just watch while they circle you?"
"You let me handle myself." Her voice softens slightly. "I'm not helpless. I've been taking care of myself for a long time."
"That was before you had Malcolm Lockwood and Richard Harrington deciding if you're worth killing."
She flinches but doesn't back down. "Then I'll deal with that too."
We stare at each other, the tension thick enough to choke on.
She's not going to budge.
"Fine." The word tastes bitter. "Keep your apartment. But Monday morning, your desk moves into my office. Where I can keep an eye on you during work hours."
"That's not a request?"
"No."
She reaches for the door handle. "Your five minutes are up, Mr. Lockwood."
She shrugs off my jacket and tosses it onto the seat. "See you Monday, Mr. Lockwood." Then she slams the door closed.
I pick up my phone and call my head of security.
"I need someone watched. Discreetly. She can't know."