Amiyah POV

The satisfaction of seeing Cassidy’s face turn purple was sweet, but short-lived. As I turned on my heel to leave, her shock morphed into a screech that clawed at my eardrums.

"Don't you walk away from me!" Cassidy lunged forward, though she didn't dare touch me. Her voice echoed off the high, vaulted ceiling of the hallway. "You think you've won just because you warmed his bed for a night? He will never *Mark* you! He's going to *Reject* you the moment he gets the chance, you stray!"

I paused, my hand tightening on the strap of my bag. My Inner Wolf growled low in my chest, urging me to snap back, to show this pup her place. But before I could open my mouth, the heavy oak door behind us flew open with a force that shook the floorboards.

A wave of power, cold and suffocating, slammed into the corridor. It was pure Alpha command.

Grayson stood in the doorway, a pair of dark sweatpants hanging low on his hips, his chest heaving. The golden light in his eyes hadn't fully faded, swirling with a storm of irritation.

"Is there a reason," Grayson’s voice was dangerously quiet, "that you are screeching like a dying cat outside my door, Cassidy?"

Cassidy shrank back, her earlier bravado dissolving instantly. She paled, pressing herself against the wall. "Gray, I... she was just—"

"Leave," he barked.

Cassidy scrambled away without another word. Grayson’s gaze then snapped to me. It was heavy, physical, like a hand gripping my throat. He was searching for something—fear, perhaps, or submission.

I gave him neither. I simply adjusted my bag, met his burning stare with a cool nod, and walked away toward the guest wing.

*

The tension didn't dissipate; it merely changed venues.

An hour later, I sat at the massive polished oak table in the Pack’s dining hall. The room smelled of old money and judgment. Georgiana Wilder, the former Luna, sat at the head of the table, slicing into her grapefruit with surgical precision.

"A proper future Luna," Georgiana began without looking up, "would have been awake at dawn to inspect the warriors' training. Sleeping in is a human habit, not one befitting the Blackwood Pack."

I unfolded my napkin, placing it on my lap. Across the table, Grayson was drinking black coffee, his eyes glued to a tablet, ignoring us both.

"I am here per Elder Douglas's arrangement, Mrs. Wilder," I replied, my voice steady. "I wasn't aware I was auditioning for the role of Pack housekeeper. My duties will be defined by my Alpha, not by the traditions of the past."

The silence that followed was sharp enough to cut glass. Georgiana’s knife screeched against her plate. Grayson didn't look up, but the corner of his mouth twitched—whether in annoyance or amusement, I couldn't tell.

As breakfast concluded in suffocating silence, I moved to leave. Georgiana intercepted me near the archway, her face a mask of faux benevolence.

"Wait," she said, sliding a sleek black credit card across the sideboard toward me. "Take this. Go buy some decent clothes. The Luna of Blackwood cannot be seen wearing... whatever this is. You look like a Rogue."

I looked at the card, then at her. The insult was wrapped in charity, designed to make me feel small, indebted.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out. A notification flashed on the screen: *Bank Transfer Received: $50,000,000.00.*

Immediately, a familiar, gruff voice echoed in my mind, bypassing the physical distance between us.

*Have fun, my little wolf. Don't let them think we Holloway wolves can't afford a skirt.*

My grandfather, Alpha Ashton of the Silvermoon Pack. A smile tugged at my lips.

"Thank you for the offer, Georgiana," I said softly, sliding my phone back into my pocket. I didn't touch the card. "But I think I can manage without the Pack's charity for now."

I walked past her, leaving her staring at my back, mouth slightly agape.

*

The drive to the Wilder Group headquarters was a different kind of torture.

The interior of the Alpha’s SUV was a sealed capsule of sensory overload. The air was thick with Grayson’s scent—cedar, rain, and that underlying spice that made my mouth water despite my hatred for him. My scent, jasmine and forest pine, mingled with his, creating a heady cocktail that made the air feel electric.

Grayson sat in the back seat beside me, his long legs cramping the space. He hadn't spoken a word since we left the estate, but the aggression rolling off him was palpable.

"Do not think I don't know what you're doing," he finally said, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through the leather seat.

I turned to look at him. "And what am I doing, Alpha?"

"This secretary act," he sneered, turning his predatory gaze on me. "You think if you play the submissive employee, if you force your way into my daily life, I'll eventually give in to the bond? You think you can trap me?"

I laughed, a dry, humorless sound. "You really are self-absorbed, aren't you? Let me make this clear, Grayson. I am fulfilling a contract. Three months. That is all I agreed to with Elder Douglas. The moment that clock runs out, the engagement is off, and I will be gone. I won't stay a second longer."

Grayson’s eyes narrowed, the gold flecks flaring. My rejection of him—of the bond—clearly stung his Alpha pride more than he wanted to admit.

"Three months?" He leaned in closer, invading my space until his breath fanned across my cheek. "I bet you won't last three weeks before you're begging me to claim you."

My heart hammered against my ribs, betraying me, but I held his gaze. "Then you are going to lose that bet. I will never love an arrogant, rude Alpha like you."

Grayson pulled back, a dark, dangerous smirk playing on his lips.

"*We will see about that,*" he murmured, the challenge hanging heavy in the air between us.

The car slowed to a stop in front of the towering glass skyscraper of the Wilder Group. The battlefield had shifted, but the war was far from over.

Amiyah POV

The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, revealing the nerve center of the Wilder Group. The Alpha’s executive floor was a fortress of glass and steel, smelling of ozone, expensive cologne, and the underlying, sharp tang of high-stakes anxiety.

I stepped out, my heels clicking rhythmically against the polished marble floor. Every head turned. I could feel their gazes—curious, judgmental, predatory. But one scent cut through the sterile air like a knife: a cloying mixture of synthetic roses and bitter jealousy.

"I honestly don't know what the Elders were thinking," a voice carried across the open-plan office, loud enough to be intentional.

I paused, turning my head toward the source. A woman with platinum blonde hair and a tight pencil skirt was perched on the edge of a desk, holding court with two younger assistants. Ingrid Slater. The head secretary.

"Hiring a wolf from some backwater Pack to be the Alpha's personal assistant?" Ingrid sneered, her eyes raking over me with disdain. "She smells like weeds from the wilderness. I bet she’s just some desperate Omega trying to sleep her way into a title."

The office went silent. My Inner Wolf bristled, pacing in my mind, but I kept her on a tight leash. I didn't need claws to handle a chihuahua.

I walked straight up to Ingrid’s desk. She straightened, crossing her arms, expecting me to cower.

"If my scent offends you, Ms. Slater, I suggest you see a doctor," I said, my voice cool and projecting clearly across the room. "Perhaps your nose is malfunctioning, mistaking the sour stench of your own jealousy for my perfume. Or maybe," I leaned in slightly, lowering my voice to a lethal whisper, "you’ve spent so much time chasing the Alpha’s trail that you’ve forgotten what a real wolf smells like."

Ingrid’s face flushed a deep, blotchy crimson. A few stifled giggles erupted from the cubicles behind her. She opened her mouth to retort, but her eyes darted toward the massive glass walls of Grayson’s office at the end of the hall.

Through the glass, I saw him. Grayson sat behind his desk, his dark eyes fixed on us. He didn't look angry. He looked... bored. He saw his head secretary attacking his "fiancée," and he did absolutely nothing.

*So that’s how you want to play it, Grayson,* I thought, turning my back on the glass. *Sink or swim.*

Ingrid, realizing she couldn't cause a scene without drawing Grayson’s ire, slammed a thick file onto the desk.

"Fine," she hissed, her voice trembling with suppressed rage. "Since you're so confident, you can handle the afternoon shoot. We have a VIP client downstairs. Jadyn Ramsey."

A ripple of unease went through the onlookers. Even I knew the name. The son of the Redstone Pack’s Beta, and a human world supermodel known for a temper as volatile as a rogue in heat.

"He’s already fired three assistants this morning," Ingrid said, a malicious smirk returning to her lips. "He hates incompetence. Don't keep him waiting, *future Luna*."

I picked up the file, my expression unreadable. "Consider it done."

*

The studio on the tenth floor was chaos.

"No! I said *crushed* ice, not cubed! Are you deaf or just stupid?"

A voice boomed from the center of the set. Jadyn Ramsey was pacing in front of a white backdrop, shirtless, his lean muscles glistening under the hot lights. He threw a plastic cup into a trash bin with unnecessary force. The production crew looked terrified.

"This place reeks of mediocrity," Jadyn grumbled, running a hand through his tousled hair. "Someone get me a shaken lemon tea from the city center. Seven pumps of sugar. Now!"

I stepped into the clearing, the file tucked under my arm. "Mr. Ramsey," I called out, my tone professional. "I am Amiyah Holloway. I'll be managing your schedule for the rest of the day."

Jadyn didn't even look at me. He kept his sunglasses on, waving a dismissive hand. "Great. Another babysitter. Just go get the tea, sweetheart, and maybe I won't walk out of this—"

He stopped mid-sentence.

The air shifted. The ventilation system cycled, carrying my scent—jasmine, forest pine, and the crisp freshness of rain—directly to him.

Jadyn froze. His head snapped toward me, his nostrils flaring. Slowly, his hand reached up and pulled the sunglasses down his nose. His eyes, a striking amber, widened in absolute disbelief.

The silence in the studio was deafening. Ingrid, who had followed me down to watch the fireworks, stood in the shadows with a triumphant grin, waiting for the explosion.

Instead, Jadyn’s arrogance evaporated like mist in the morning sun.

"Amiyah?" he breathed, his voice cracking. "Moon Goddess above... is it really you?"

He scrambled off the platform, ignoring the photographer, and rushed toward me. He stopped a foot away, looking at me as if I were a ghost, or a deity.

"I... I thought I'd never see you again," Jadyn stammered, his posture shifting from diva to devotee in a heartbeat. "After that night in the woods... the Rogues... you saved my life."

I offered him a small, genuine smile. "It's good to see you in one piece, Jadyn. And fully clothed, mostly."

"You know him?" Ingrid’s shrill voice cut in from the sidelines. She looked like she had swallowed a lemon. "How does a stray like you know the Redstone heir?"

Jadyn whipped around, a low growl vibrating in his chest—a sound of pure warning that made Ingrid recoil.

"Watch your tongue," Jadyn snapped, his eyes flashing with Beta authority. "This 'stray' shifted into a Dire Wolf and took down four Rogues single-handedly to save me when I was a pup. She is a warrior. Show some respect."

The studio gasped. I felt the weight of a dozen stares, but this time, the judgment was replaced by awe.

I looked at Ingrid, whose face had gone pale. "Shall we get back to work, Ms. Slater? Or do you have more insults to throw?"

Jadyn turned back to me, grinning like a loyal puppy who had found his master. "Anything for you, Amiyah. Do you want me to pose? I'll pose. I'll do whatever you say."

High above in the glass tower, the war had just taken a turn Grayson never saw coming.

Amiyah POV

The shutter clicked for the final time, signaling the end of the shoot. The studio crew let out a collective breath they seemed to have been holding for hours. Jadyn Ramsey, however, didn't rush to the changing room. Instead, he bounded off the set, grabbing a towel and wiping the sweat from his neck as he made a beeline for me.

"Dinner," Jadyn announced, his amber eyes sparkling with an intensity that made several female assistants swoon. "You. Me. The finest steakhouse in the city. My treat. Consider it a tiny down payment on the life debt I owe you."

The murmurs in the room ceased. Everyone, including a seething Ingrid, watched with bated breath. A Beta heir from a powerful Pack asking a lowly assistant out? It was unheard of.

I closed the file in my hands with a sharp snap. "I'm afraid I have to decline, Mr. Ramsey. My shift isn't over, and I have a mountain of paperwork waiting on the executive floor."

Jadyn’s face fell, resembling a kicked puppy. "Come on, Amiyah. You're not seriously going to choose filing papers over a reunion with your favorite... well, acquaintance?" He lowered his voice, glancing around. "Is your Pack in trouble? Is that why you're working here? I can help. Redstone has resources—"

"I am fine, Jadyn," I cut him off gently but firmly. "And I am here because I choose to be. Now, if you'll excuse me."

I turned on my heel, expecting him to leave. Instead, he flopped onto a plush sofa in the waiting area, crossing his long legs.

"Fine," he declared, flashing a charming grin at the stunned room. "I'll wait. Even the Alpha's assistant has to eat eventually."

Ignoring the whispers that erupted behind me like wildfire, I marched back to the elevator.

*

The atmosphere on the executive floor was suffocating. The moment I stepped out of the elevator, I felt the tension radiating from the Alpha's office. The glass walls seemed to vibrate with suppressed energy.

I had just sat down at my desk when the door to Grayson’s office flew open.

Grayson Wilder stormed out. His jaw was set so tight a muscle ticked in his cheek, and his scent—ozone and dark, brooding cedar—rolled off him in waves of agitation. He looked like a man who had just lost a wrestling match with a ghost.

He stopped in front of my desk, his shadow looming over me.

"Get your things," he commanded, his voice rough. "We're going out for dinner."

I blinked, looking up at him. "Excuse me? I have the quarterly reports to finish, and—"

"That wasn't a request, Amiyah." His eyes flashed, a swirl of gold bleeding into the dark iris. It wasn't desire; it was the frustration of a man forced into a corner. "My grandfather... insists. We are to be seen in public. Together. Now."

I realized then that this wasn't his idea. Elder Douglas must have pulled the leash. My Inner Wolf bristled at his tone, but I knew better than to argue with an Alpha whose pride was already bruised.

"Fine," I said, standing up and smoothing my skirt. "Lead the way."

*

The restaurant was dimly lit, smelling of expensive wine and truffle oil. It was the kind of place where deals were made and secrets were whispered. But as the maître d' led us to our reserved table, I saw a familiar figure rise from a booth near the window.

Grayson stopped dead in his tracks. A low, menacing growl rumbled in his chest, audible only to those with enhanced hearing.

"What is *he* doing here?" Grayson hissed.

Jadyn stood there, looking entirely too pleased with himself. He had evidently charmed the location out of the receptionist back at the office.

"Wilder," Jadyn nodded, his tone lacking the deference usually shown to an Alpha. He turned his beaming smile to me. "I told you I'd wait."

The dinner was a disaster from the start. The air around our table was thick enough to choke on. Grayson sat in stony silence, radiating a cold fury that kept the waiters trembling. Jadyn, conversely, seemed determined to poke the bear.

"So," Jadyn said, swirling his wine glass. "How long do you intend to keep her locked up in that glass tower, Grayson? She's a warrior, not a secretary."

"She is my fiancée," Grayson snapped, his hand clenching around his fork. "And her position is none of your concern, Beta."

I sighed, placing my napkin on my lap. "It's a three-month engagement, Jadyn. A contract. Nothing more."

I said it to diffuse the tension, to remind Jadyn that I wasn't trapped. But the words seemed to have the opposite effect on Grayson. His scent spiked, sharp and acrid.

Jadyn laughed, a sound of genuine relief. "Three months? Thank the Goddess. You deserve better than a man who treats his Pack like a corporation and his mate like an acquisition." He leaned forward, his eyes locking onto Grayson's. "You're boring, Wilder. And cold. You have no idea what fire you're trying to dampen."

Grayson leaned in, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper. "Careful, Ramsey. The Redstone Pack is currently negotiating for the southern territories. It would be a shame if those talks... collapsed."

The threat hung in the air. Jadyn’s smile vanished. But instead of backing down, he looked at Grayson with something akin to pity.

"You think you can bully everyone into submission," Jadyn said quietly. "But you have no idea who you're sitting across from. You're disrespecting a wolf of the Holloway bloodline. If her grandfather knew how you treated her..."

Grayson frowned, confusion flickering in his eyes. "Holloway? The Silvermoon family? She's from a no-name pack in the boonies."

"Believe what you want," Jadyn said, standing up. He threw a stack of cash on the table. "I've lost my appetite."

*

We left moments later. The walk to the valet stand was silent, but the air crackled with electricity.

"Amiyah!"

Jadyn caught up to us on the sidewalk. Before I could react, he pulled me into a tight hug. It was warm, smelling of sunshine and cut grass—a scent of safety from my past.

"Call me if you need anything," he whispered into my hair. "Anything at all."

I pulled back and patted his cheek, a gesture I used to do when he was a scrawny teenager. "Go home, Jadyn. Drive safe."

I didn't see Grayson move. I just felt the sudden, violent displacement of air.

A hand clamped around my upper arm, iron-hard and possessive. Grayson yanked me away from Jadyn, practically shoving me toward his waiting SUV.

"Get in," he snarled.

He slammed the door behind me and stormed to the driver's side. As soon as he was inside, the confined space was instantly flooded with his scent—overwhelming cedar, leather, and a burning, primal rage.

He didn't start the car. Instead, he turned on me, his eyes glowing with the full force of his Alpha power.

"Is that it?" he roared, the sound vibrating through the chassis of the car. "Is that why you look at me with nothing but ice in your eyes? Because you've already chosen *him*?"

"Grayson, you're being ridiculous—"

"Don't lie to me!" He leaned across the console, invading my space, inhaling deeply near my neck where Jadyn had hugged me. His lip curled in disgust. "You let him touch you. You let him leave his scent on you like a common stray marking a lamppost! Do you have no concept of your duty as my future Luna?"

My own wolf snarled in my head, hating the submission his Alpha tone tried to force on me. But beneath his anger, I sensed something else—something raw and terrified that he was trying desperately to bury under his rage.

"Duty?" I spat back. "Or property rights?"

The engine roared to life as he stomped on the gas, peeling away from the curb with a screech of tires that mirrored the scream of frustration in the air between us.