Anya POV

Camryn's whisper hit the silent lobby like a grenade.

1501? Anya, wasn't that your room?

Time seemed to warp, stretching into an agonizing eternity. Every head in the room swiveled toward us. I felt the blood drain from my face, leaving me lightheaded and cold. I wanted to dissolve into the floor tiles. I wanted to vanish.

But Alpha Declan Blackwood did not let me vanish.

He stopped mid-stride near the exit. Slowly, with the lethal grace of a predator scenting blood, he turned. His eyes, dark and tempestuous as a stormy sea, locked onto mine. There was no recognition of the intimacy we had shared hours ago—no warmth, no lingering passion. There was only a cold, clinical assessment that stripped me down to my very bones.

He didn't speak. He didn't roar. He simply looked at me, his gaze lingering for a heartbeat that felt like a lifetime, branding me with a silent promise of retribution. Then, without a word, he turned his back and walked out the glass doors, his entourage trailing behind him like shadows.

The air in the lobby rushed back in, but it was thick with tension.

"Anya?" Camryn squeaked, her hand flying to her mouth as the realization of what she had done crashed over her. "Oh, Goddess. I didn't mean—"

"Carroll!"

The barked name made me jump. Dannie Hill, the regional manager leading this training seminar, was barreling toward us. He was a balding, portly man who usually looked bored, but now his face was slick with sweat and pale with terror. He knew the Alpha's temper, and he knew that a screw-up on his watch could cost him everything.

He grabbed my arm, his fingers digging into my flesh hard enough to bruise.

"You stupid, stupid girl," Dannie hissed, spittle flying from his lips. "What did you do? Did you steal something? Did you break something?"

"I... I didn't..." I stammered, my throat dry.

"Shut up," he snapped, his eyes darting around the lobby to see who was watching. "I am not going to lose my position because a wolfless decided to play games. You are going to fix this."

He shoved me toward the elevators, his grip unyielding. "Carroll. The Alpha wants to see you. In his suite. Now."

"No," I whispered, panic clawing at my chest. "Please, Mr. Hill. I can't—"

"You don't have a choice!" Dannie's voice rose to a desperate squeak. "You go up there, you apologize, and you beg for mercy. Or so help me Goddess, I will make sure you never work in this pack again."

He practically threw me into the elevator and hit the button for the penthouse. As the doors slid shut, I caught a glimpse of Camryn's face—pale, tear-streaked, and horrified. Then, I was rising, alone, toward my execution.

The hallway to the penthouse was silent, the plush carpet swallowing the sound of my trembling footsteps. My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird, frantic and bruising.

I stood before the double mahogany doors, my hand hovering over the wood. I couldn't do this. I should run. But where? He was the Alpha. He owned the hotel. He owned the city. He owned me.

Before I could knock, the lock clicked. The door swung open, not by a servant, but seemingly on its own.

I stepped inside.

The suite was massive, a cavern of black marble, chrome, and floor-to-ceiling glass overlooking the city skyline. It was beautiful, cold, and utterly devoid of warmth—just like the man standing by the window.

Declan Blackwood stood with his back to me. He had shed his suit jacket and shirt. His broad, muscular back was a landscape of power, the muscles shifting beneath his skin as he breathed.

The scent hit me instantly—that intoxicating blend of rain-soaked earth, pine, and ozone. It slammed into me, wrapping around my senses and making my knees weak. My body, traitorous and pathetic, hummed in recognition. It wanted him, even as my mind screamed in terror.

"Close the door," he commanded. His voice was a low rumble that vibrated through the floorboards.

I pushed the door shut. The click of the latch sounded like a prison cell locking.

Declan turned slowly. His face was a mask of stone, his eyes devoid of the heat that had burned me alive last night. Now, they were ice. He scanned me, from my cheap corporate blouse to my scuffed heels, his lip curling slightly.

"So," he said, his voice dangerously soft. "This is the wolfless who thinks she can summon her Alpha for a night, and then scurry away like a frightened mouse?"

I swallowed hard, clutching my hands together to stop them from shaking. "Alpha, I... I didn't mean to—"

"Didn't mean to what?" He took a step toward me. The air in the room grew heavy, charged with his dominance. "Didn't mean to sneak into my bed? Didn't mean to claw my skin?"

He tapped the fresh scratch marks on his shoulder—marks I had left. My face burned with shame.

"I was drunk," I whispered, staring at the floor. "I didn't know it was you until this morning. I panicked."

"You panicked." He scoffed, a harsh, humorless sound.

In a blur of motion, he closed the distance between us. I gasped, backing up until my spine hit the solid wood of the door. Declan loomed over me, placing one hand on the door beside my head, boxing me in. His heat radiated off him, searing my skin even without touching.

He lowered his head, his nose brushing against my jawline, inhaling deeply. I trembled, a jolt of electricity shooting down my spine at the contact.

"You smell like fear," he murmured against my ear, his voice dropping an octave. "And cheap soap. You tried to scrub me off you."

He pulled back slightly, his hand moving to grip my chin, forcing me to look up into his furious, mesmerizing eyes.

"Tell me, Anya," he said, saying my name like it was a curse. "What was the plan? Get the Alpha drunk, spread your legs, and hope for a payout? A promotion? Or did you think you could trap me with a pregnancy?"

"No!" The accusation stung worse than a slap. "I'm not... I would never..."

"Then why run?" His grip on my chin tightened, not enough to hurt, but enough to hold me captive. "Innocent women don't flee crime scenes, Anya. Only the guilty run."

His thumb brushed over my lower lip, a gesture that was confusingly tender yet terrifyingly possessive.

"Tell me," he demanded, his eyes searching mine with a terrifying intensity. "What did you hope to gain by warming my bed?"

Anya POV

"Nothing," I whispered, my voice trembling under the weight of his accusation. "I wanted nothing from you."

Declan stared at me, his chest heaving slightly. For a second, the ice in his eyes seemed to crack, revealing a swirling vortex of molten gold—his wolf, fighting for control. His scent, that overwhelming mix of storm and pine, flared so violently it felt like a physical caress against my skin, wrapping around me, begging me to stay even as his human face twisted in disgust.

He released my chin abruptly, as if my skin had burned him.

"Get up," he growled, stepping back.

I hadn't realized I was cowering against the door until I scrambled to stand, my legs shaking like a newborn fawn's.

The elevator dinged outside, and a moment later, a breathless Dannie Hill stumbled into the open doorway of the suite. He looked like a man walking to the gallows. His eyes darted between the disheveled Alpha and me, his face draining of all color.

"Alpha Blackwood," Dannie choked out, bowing his head in submission. "I... I am here as you commanded."

Declan didn't look at him. He kept his gaze fixed on the city skyline outside the window, his back a wall of rigid muscle. "Take her," Declan said, his voice devoid of emotion. "Get her out of my sight."

Dannie let out a breath of relief and reached for my arm, his grip bruising. "Yes, Alpha. Immediately. I apologize for the disturbance—"

"And Hill?"

Declan turned. The air in the room instantly grew heavy, crushing the breath out of my lungs. This was the Alpha's Command—a power that forced every wolf to their knees. Even as a wolfless, I felt the static pressure of it prickling my skin.

Dannie froze, whimpering softly.

"Never again," Declan said, his voice low and lethal, "offer up a member of my Pack like a piece of meat to solve your problems. If I hear of you pimping out your subordinates again, you will not have a position to lose. You won't even have a Pack."

Dannie nodded frantically, sweat dripping from his brow. "Understood, Alpha. Never again."

"Go."

The single word was a dismissal and a threat. Dannie yanked me into the hallway. As the heavy mahogany doors slammed shut behind us, severing the connection to that intoxicating scent, I felt a bizarre, hollow ache in my chest. My soul felt... empty.

But Dannie didn't give me time to mourn the loss of something I never had.

The moment we were alone in the silent, carpeted corridor, his fear mutated instantly into rage. He spun on me, his face purple with fury.

"You useless, wolfless bitch!" he hissed, shoving me backward. I stumbled, catching myself against the wall. "Do you have any idea what you've done? You almost got me killed!"

"I didn't do anything!" I cried, tears finally spilling over. "You sent me there! You told me to fix it!"

"I told you to apologize, not to act like a whore and insult the Alpha!" Dannie spat. He jabbed a finger in my face. "You're done, Carroll. You hear me? You are fired. Effective immediately."

The world tilted on its axis. "Mr. Hill, please... my mother's medical bills... I need this job."

"Not my problem," he sneered, straightening his jacket. "Pack your things. If you're not off the premises in an hour, I'll have security throw you out. And don't bother applying anywhere else in this Pack. I'll make sure everyone knows you're poison."

He stormed off toward the elevators, leaving me alone in the dim hallway. The silence that followed was deafening. I was ruined.

Thirty minutes later, I was shoving my clothes into my battered suitcase in my small room on the lower floors. My hands were shaking so hard I could barely zip the bag.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand. It was Camryn.

I stared at the screen for a long moment before answering. "Hello?"

"Anya! Oh, Goddess, are you okay?" Camryn's voice was thick with tears. "I saw Dannie storming through the lobby. He looked murderous. What happened?"

"I'm fired, Cam," I said, my voice dull. "He fired me."

"No..." Camryn gasped. "Anya, I am so, so sorry. This is all my fault. I never should have opened my big mouth."

"It doesn't matter now." I sat on the edge of the bed, clutching the phone. "Declan... Alpha Blackwood... he hates me. He thinks I planned it all."

"He's an idiot if he thinks that," Camryn said fiercely, though her voice dropped to a whisper. "But... Anya, maybe it's for the best. You don't want to be mixed up with him."

"Why?" I asked, wiping a tear from my cheek.

"I heard the older staff talking in the breakroom," Camryn whispered, as if sharing a state secret. "They say the Alpha has been celibate for years. Rumor is, he found his Fated Mate a long time ago, but they can't be together yet. Maybe she's too young, or from a rival pack. He's waiting for her."

My heart stopped.

Waiting for her.

A memory flashed in my mind, vivid and sharp. Last night, in the heat of the moment, my fingers had traced the hard line of Declan's collarbone. There, inked into his skin in stark black numerals, was a date.

0825.

August 25th.

It wasn't a birthday. It was an anniversary. A mark of devotion to the woman he actually loved.

Nausea rolled through me. I wasn't just a mistake to him; I was a betrayal of his true mate. That explained the coldness, the anger, the disgust in his eyes this morning. He had broken his vow of celibacy with a wolfless nobody, and he hated himself for it. And by extension, he hated me.

"Anya? Are you still there?"

"I'm here," I whispered, gripping the phone until my knuckles turned white. "I have to go, Cam. I have to leave."

I hung up before she could argue. The shame was a physical weight, crushing me. I grabbed my suitcase and fled the room, desperate to put as much distance as possible between me and the man who had marked my soul, all while his heart belonged to a ghost.

Anya POV

The Motel 6 on the outskirts of the city smelled of stale cigarette smoke and lemon-scented despair. It was a far cry from the plush, velvet-lined world of the Alpha's floor, but it was all I could afford.

I sat on the edge of the lumpy mattress, my knees pulled to my chest. The silence here wasn't peaceful; it was heavy, pressing against my eardrums. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the ink on Declan's skin.

0825.

August 25th.

It had to be her birthday. Or their anniversary. Kristin Larsen, the Alpha's daughter Camryn had whispered about. A woman with a wolf as strong as his, a woman worthy of a King. Not a wolfless nobody who fetched coffee and got fired for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

A sudden, blinding pain spiked through my temples, like an ice pick driven into my skull. I gasped, dropping my head into my hands. It wasn't a normal headache. It felt like static pressure, a heavy, demanding knocking against the walls of my mind.

Open up.

The command wasn't audible—I had no wolf to translate the telepathy of the Pack link—but the intent was so powerful it physically hurt. Someone was trying to force a Mind-Link.

Declan.

Only an Alpha could generate that kind of mental force.

The pain vanished as quickly as it came, replaced by the vibration of my phone on the nightstand. The screen lit up, illuminating the dark room.

Unknown Number: We are not finished.

My breath hitched. The text was stark, commanding. No greeting, no signature. Just a declaration.

Fear, cold and sharp, coiled in my stomach. He wasn't chasing me because he cared. He was chasing me because I was a loose end. I was the mistake that could tarnish his reputation, the stain on his fidelity to his true mate. He probably wanted to pay me off, or worse, threaten me into silence.

My fingers trembled as I typed a reply, desperate to end this before he could hurt me more than he already had.

Me: Last night never happened. Don't worry.

I didn't wait for a response. I hit the 'Block Contact' button.

"It's over," I whispered to the empty room, though the hollow ache in my chest suggested otherwise. "You're safe."

The phone buzzed again, making me jump. I stared at it in horror, thinking he had somehow bypassed the block, but the name flashing on the screen was Dannie Hill.

I swallowed hard and answered. "Mr. Hill?"

"That's Sir to you, Carroll," Dannie's voice slurred slightly, thick with spite. "I'm calling to make sure you understand the terms of your termination. You are to vacate the premises immediately. Your access card has been deactivated."

"I'm already gone, Sir," I said, my voice dull. "I'm at a motel."

"Good. But you're not done yet," he snapped. "I need the Shadow Creek Territory Acquisition Files. Elara needs them for the morning briefing. If those papers aren't on the front desk in twenty minutes, I will make sure you are blacklisted from every job in this state. You won't even be able to get hired as a dishwasher."

The line went dead.

Panic flared. The Shadow Creek file. It was the most sensitive merger the Pack was handling. If I lost that, Dannie wouldn't just blacklist me; he could have me arrested for corporate espionage.

"Okay, okay," I muttered, scrambling off the bed. I dragged my battered suitcase onto the mattress and unzipped it. "It's here. It has to be here."

I threw clothes aside—my spare uniform, my worn-out jeans, my only nice dress. I dug through the side pockets, checked my purse, shook out my coat.

Nothing.

"No, no, no..."

I upended the bag, dumping everything onto the floor. My toiletries scattered. My socks rolled under the bed. But the thick blue folder was nowhere to be seen.

I froze, my hands hovering over the mess. A memory, sharp and cruel, played in my mind.

The morning sun hitting the floor-to-ceiling windows. Me, scrambling to gather my clothes while Declan watched me with those unreadable, golden eyes. The folder sliding off the nightstand as I grabbed my bra.

I had left it.

I had left the most important document of my career in Room 1501.

The blood drained from my face. I looked at my phone, at the blocked number, at the bridge I had just incinerated with a few keystrokes.

I had to go back.

I had to walk right back into the lion's den, past the security, and knock on the door of the man I had just rejected.

Fate, it seemed, had a twisted sense of humor. And I was the punchline.