KAIA

The Moonfang border looks exactly the same as the night I swore I'd never cross it again. The pines still stand like sentinels along the mountain road. The wind still carries the scent of wolves on patrol-earthy musk mixed with pine and something wild that makes my wolf stir restlessly beneath my skin. And my heart still clenches like it knows I'm about to make a mistake.

I grip the steering wheel tighter as my beat-up Honda climbs the winding road toward town. Seven years since I fled this place with my tail between my legs and Vincent Lopez's cruel laughter echoing in my ears. I'd built a good life in Portland-small apartment, steady job at a marketing firm, friends who didn't care about pack politics or bloodlines.

But life has a way of dragging you back to the places you'd rather forget.

Mom's medical bills arrived three weeks ago like a death sentence. Stage three ovarian cancer. The treatments that might save her cost more than I make in two years, and our insurance barely covers the basics. I've applied to every job within a hundred miles of Portland, but nothing pays enough. Nothing except the administrative assistant position at Moonfang Construction.

The irony tastes bitter. The company that could save my mother's life is owned by the pack-and run by the man who taught me exactly how much an omega is worth.

I drive past the old pack meeting lodge, its log walls weathered but sturdy. The training field where young wolves learn to fight spreads out to my left, empty in the late afternoon light. In the distance, I can see the glass-and-steel headquarters of Moonfang Construction rising from the forest like a monument to Alpha dominance.

Movement catches my eye in the tree line. Three wolves step out from behind the pines, shifting to human form as they watch my car pass. I recognize one of them-Derek, a mid-ranking wolf who used to make my high school years miserable. His lip curls when our eyes meet through the windshield.

"Omega," I see him mouth, and my hands shake on the wheel.

Some things never change.

I take the exit toward my childhood neighborhood, following familiar streets lined with modest houses. The Dawson family home sits at the end of a dead-end road, a small ranch-style house with faded blue siding and a garden my mother used to tend with obsessive care. Now the flower beds are overgrown with weeds.

Mom's waiting on the front porch when I pull into the driveway, wrapped in a thick blanket despite the mild September weather. She's lost weight since my last visit, her cheekbones sharp beneath pale skin. But her dark eyes are as fierce as ever when they meet mine.

"You shouldn't have come back," she says without preamble.

"You needed me." I climb the porch steps and lean down to kiss her forehead. She smells like lavender and sadness. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I'm dying." Her dry laugh turns into a cough. "The treatments aren't working, Kaia. Dr. Kinsly wants to try a new experimental drug, but-"

"But it's expensive." I settle into the wicker chair beside her. "I know. That's why I'm here."

Her fingers clutch the blanket tighter. "Not like this. Not by crawling back to his family."

Vincent. She won't even speak his name. Ever since I found the courage to tell her what he did, she's hated him almost as much as I do.

"It's just a job, Mom. He probably won't even notice I work there."

She turns to study my face, those dark eyes seeing too much. "You always were a terrible liar."

Before I can respond, she's pushing herself to her feet, the blanket falling to the porch floor. "Come inside. I'll make tea."

I follow her into the house, noting how slowly she moves, how she grips the doorframe for support. The living room looks the same as it did when I was seventeen-faded floral couch, family photos on the mantle, the old rocking chair where my father used to read to me before he died.

"There are things you need to know," Mom says from the kitchen, her voice carrying over the sound of running water. "About our family. About why I've kept you away from certain pack traditions."

My stomach clenches. "What kind of things?"

"Nothing that concerns you right now." The kettle clinks against the stove. "Just... be careful around them, Kaia. Promise me."

I want to push for answers, but the exhaustion in her voice stops me. Whatever secrets she's carrying, they'll have to wait. Right now, all that matters is getting this job and paying for her treatment.

An hour later, I'm sitting in my car outside Moonfang Construction's headquarters, staring up at the imposing building. The modern architecture clashes with the wild mountain backdrop-all clean lines and reflective glass that seems designed to intimidate. A symbol of pack dominance rising from the forest floor.

The lobby is sleek and professional, with polished marble floors and a massive chandelier made from twisted metal that looks like abstract antlers. The receptionist-a blonde woman in her thirties with the confident bearing of a high-ranking wolf-looks me over slowly when I approach her desk.

"Kaia Dawson," I tell her, proud that my voice doesn't shake. "I have a 4 PM interview."

Her smile is polite but cold. "Of course. Ms. Lopez is expecting you. Please have a seat."

Ms. Lopez. My chest tightens as I settle into one of the leather chairs in the waiting area. Talia. Vincent's younger sister, who used to be my closest friend before everything went to hell. The last time we spoke was the night of the bonfire, when she tried to comfort me after I found out about the dare. I couldn't bear to see her face-so much like her brother's-without remembering how stupid I'd been.

I cut her off completely when I left for college. No goodbye, no explanation. Just silence.

Now I'm about to beg her for a job.

My wolf paces anxiously beneath my skin, picking up the complex web of scents in the building. Other wolves, mostly higher-ranking ones based on the confidence in their movements. Coffee from the break room. Cleaning supplies. And underneath it all, something that makes my pulse kick up-warm spice and cedar, dangerous and familiar in a way that makes no sense.

I shake my head, forcing my wolf to settle. I'm being paranoid. Vincent probably isn't even here. The company is huge, with dozens of employees and multiple floors. The chances of running into him are slim.

I just need to focus on the interview. On convincing Talia to hire me despite our history. On saving my mother's life.

"Ms. Dawson?" The receptionist's voice cuts through my anxious thoughts. "Ms. Lopez will see you now."

I stand on unsteady legs, smoothing down my black blazer and pencil skirt-the most professional outfit I own. As I walk toward the frosted glass door marked 'T. Lopez - Executive Assistant Director,' that strange scent grows stronger.

My wolf perks up, recognition flaring without reason.

I freeze with my hand on the door handle, pulse hammering. That scent... why does it make every nerve in my body come alive?

I push the feeling down and force myself to turn the handle. Whatever games my imagination is playing, I can't afford to lose focus now. Too much depends on this going well.

KAIA

Through the frosted glass, I can see her silhouette at her desk. My old best friend. The girl who used to braid my hair during sleepovers and defend me from pack bullies. The one I abandoned without explanation when her brother shattered my heart.

She'll ask why I left. She'll ask why I'm back. What do I even say?

Taking a deep breath, I push open the door and step inside.

The office is smaller than I expected, with cream-colored walls and a view of the forest through floor-to-ceiling windows. Talia looks up from her computer, and time seems to freeze.

She's changed. Still beautiful, with the same dark hair and sharp features that mark her as a Lopez, but there's a sophistication to her now that wasn't there at eighteen. Her black blazer is tailored, expensive. A far cry from the ripped jeans and band t-shirts she used to wear.

"Kaia." My name falls from her lips like she's testing it.

I force a smile. "Hi, Talia."

She stands slowly, studying my face. I see warmth there, but also hurt. Curiosity mixed with something that might be anger.

"Seven years," she says.

"Seven years."

We stare at each other across the office, years of silence stretching between us. Then she moves around her desk, and suddenly we're hugging. It's tentative, not the easy closeness we once shared, but it's something.

"You look different," she says when we pull apart. "Stronger. But why now, Kaia?"

I sink into the chair across from her desk, my hands clasped tightly in my lap. "My mom is sick. Cancer. The treatments are expensive, and-"

"And you need money." Talia settles back into her chair, her expression softening. "I'm sorry. About your mother."

"Thank you."

She leans forward, elbows on her desk. "But that doesn't explain why you left without a word. Do you know what it felt like when you just vanished? One day we're planning your eighteenth birthday party, the next you're gone. No goodbye, no explanation. Was I not worth the truth?"

The pain in her voice cuts deep. I look down at my hands, searching for words that won't destroy what little chance I have at this job.

"I needed to escape," I say finally. "This place, the pack politics, the way people looked at me. I felt suffocated."

It's not entirely a lie. I did feel suffocated-by shame, by humiliation, by the knowledge that I'd been nothing more than entertainment for the Alpha's heir.

Talia studies me for a long moment. "You could have talked to me."

"I know. I'm sorry."

She sighs, some of the tension leaving her shoulders. "I'm still angry you vanished. But you're here now. And I won't let you starve." A small smile tugs at her lips. "You're hired."

Relief floods through me so suddenly my eyes water. "Just like that?"

"You were always the smartest person I knew. And I've seen your resume-marketing degree, three years of experience. You're overqualified for this position, which means you're desperate enough to work hard."

I laugh, surprising myself. "Brutally honest as always."

"It's a Lopez family trait."

The mention of her family makes my stomach clench, but I keep my expression neutral. "When do I start?"

"Monday. Eight AM sharp." She stands, extending her hand. "Welcome to Moonfang Construction, Ms. Dawson."

I shake her hand, trying to ignore the formality in her tone. We used to be Kaia and Talia, best friends who shared everything. Now I'm Ms. Dawson, an employee she's taking a chance on.

"I should go," I say, gathering my purse. "Thank you, Talia. Really."

"Don't thank me yet. You haven't met your boss."

I freeze. "My boss?"

She grins, and for a moment she looks like the girl I used to know. "Did I forget to mention? You'll be working directly with our CEO."

My blood turns to ice. "Vincent?"

"Vincent."

I force myself to breathe. "That's fine. I'm sure we'll be very professional."

Talia's eyes narrow slightly, like she's picking up on something I'm trying to hide. But before she can ask questions I'm not ready to answer, I'm already moving toward the door.

"I'll see you Monday," I say over my shoulder.

The moment I step into the hallway, I feel the weight of eyes on me. A group of office workers stands near the elevator, their conversation dying as I pass. I catch the whispered word "omega" under someone's breath, followed by a snort of laughter.

At the reception desk, a young clerk stares at me with open curiosity, like I'm some exotic animal that wandered into the wrong habitat. Her gaze travels from my discount blazer to my worn flats, cataloging every sign that I don't belong here.

"Omega chasing scraps," mutters a man in an expensive suit as he brushes past me toward the conference room. His lip curls in disgust, like my presence somehow contaminates the air.

I keep my head high, my spine straight. I won't give them the satisfaction of seeing me flinch. I survived in the human world, built a life for myself outside this suffocating hierarchy. I can survive a few sneering wolves.

The pack hadn't changed. Omegas would always be the bottom rung.

But this job means steady pay. It means medicine for my mother. It means the difference between watching her die and giving her a fighting chance. Even if it costs me every scrap of pride I have left, I'll endure their contempt.

I steeled myself through worse when I left. I can steel myself through this, too.

That familiar scent-warm spice and cedar-hits me like a physical force as I near the lobby. My wolf perks up instantly, every nerve in my body coming alive. It's stronger here, more concentrated, like he's close.

Too close.

I'm halfway to the exit when I see him.

Vincent Lopez stands at the other end of the hallway, talking to a man in a hard hat. Even from a distance, he's imposing-taller than I remembered, broader through the shoulders. Time has carved him into something magnificent and dangerous, all sharp angles and controlled power. His dark hair is shorter now, professional, but it still falls across his forehead in that devastating way that used to make my teenage heart flutter.

He's beautiful. God, he's still so beautiful it makes my chest ache.

Time should have dimmed the impact of him, should have made him ordinary in my memory. Instead, seeing him now feels like staring directly into the sun-blinding, overwhelming, impossible to look away from.

My wolf purrs deep in my chest, the same sound she made the very first time I laid eyes on him. Back then, I'd waited breathlessly for her to confirm what I hoped-that he was my mate. But the confirmation never came. Even now, the pull toward him feels exactly like the mate bond descriptions I'd heard whispered among other wolves, yet still... nothing. Just this inexplicable magnetism that defies explanation.

He looks up, and our eyes meet across the space between us.

The world stops.

The man he's talking to follows his gaze, says something I can't hear, then walks away. Vincent doesn't even acknowledge his departure. His dark eyes lock onto mine with an intensity that steals my breath, and then he's moving.

Each step is measured and deliberate, a predator who's spotted exactly what he's been hunting. There's no hesitation, no pause to consider whether he should approach. He cuts through the space between us like it belongs to him-like everything in this building, including me, belongs to him.

My wolf whimpers, torn between the urge to run and the inexplicable desire to close the distance between us myself. I force myself to stand my ground, lifting my chin as he gets closer. Closer. Until he stops just near enough that his scent overwhelms me-that warm spice and cedar that makes my pulse spike and my knees threaten to buckle.

"Kaia." My name falls from his lips like a prayer, soft and reverent and completely at odds with the confusion written across his perfect features.

"Hi," I manage, proud that my voice doesn't shake.

He parts his lips, and I can see a million questions there, pressing against his teeth, demanding answers. But what comes out instead catches me off guard.

"You're back."

The simple statement hangs between us, weighted with years of silence. I straighten my shoulders, calling on every ounce of professionalism I can muster.

"I am. I hope we can keep things professional between us-you know, not let the past get in the way of work."

The words are crisp, businesslike. Casual. Like we're discussing quarterly reports instead of the wreckage of whatever we used to be.

Vincent's face goes blank with shock. Then his brows draw together, confusion and something that might be hurt flickering across his features.

"Work?" He looks genuinely confused now. "What are you talking about? Why are you even here?"

"I just got hired. I'll be working here starting Monday."

The color drains from his face. "You'll be working... here? At Moonfang?"

"I'm your new assistant." I keep my voice steady, professional. "I hope we can keep things strictly business between us."

The words hit him like a physical blow. For a long moment, he just stares at me, processing. Then something shifts in his expression-confusion giving way to something sharper.

"Business?" His voice is quiet, dangerous. "Kaia, it's been years. Seven years of nothing, and you show up here pretending this is just another job?"

"That's exactly what it is. Don't let our past complicate that."

"Like hell it doesn't." The words explode out of him, all that careful control finally snapping. "You think you can just waltz back into my life, act like we meant nothing to each other, and expect me to go along with it?"

I meet his fury with ice-cold calm. "I think you can be professional enough to separate business from whatever you think we had."

"Whatever I think we had?" He steps closer, and I can see the barely leashed anger in every line of his body. "We had everything, Kaia. And you threw it away without a word."

A smile tugs at my lips-cold, amused. How precious that he thinks anything could happen between us after what he did. After what I know about him, about the kind of man who would seduce an omega on a dare and laugh about it with his friends.

"That's sweet that you think so," I say, my voice honey-sweet with false warmth.

I turn and walk away before he can respond, before he can corner me with more questions I'll never answer. If he wants the truth, he'll have to suffer for it first. Just like I did.

KAIA

I arrive at Moonfang Construction fifteen minutes early, my black coffee steaming in my hands. It's just a job, I tell myself as I scan my keycard at the employee entrance. I can do this.

The elevator ride to the fifteenth floor feels endless. When the doors finally open, I step into a bustling workspace-cubicles arranged in neat rows, floor-to-ceiling windows offering views of the forest, and the constant hum of productivity. My new desk sits in the corner, a modest workstation with a computer and a stack of files waiting for my attention.

I'm settling into my chair when I feel it-that familiar prickle along my spine that means I'm being watched. I look up to find Vincent standing near the conference room, his dark suit immaculate, his expression unreadable. Our eyes meet for a brief moment before he turns away, dismissing me like I'm nothing more than office furniture.

Fine. Two can play that game.

I spend the morning familiarizing myself with the filing system and reviewing project timelines. Vincent's calendar is packed with meetings, site visits, and conference calls. At ten AM, I see the project briefing scheduled-my first meeting as his assistant.

I gather my notepad and pen, steeling myself for what's to come. Just keep your head down and take notes, I tell myself. You can do this.

The conference room is already full when we arrive. A dozen executives sit around a polished oak table, laptops open, coffee cups steaming. Vincent stands at the head of the table, commanding the room with effortless authority.

He doesn't acknowledge my entrance. Doesn't even glance in my direction as I slip into an empty chair near the back. But something shifts in the air-a tension that makes my wolf stir restlessly beneath my skin.

I watch him work, and I hate that I'm impressed. He's different from the boy I used to know-harder, more controlled. There's a coldness to him now that wasn't there before, like he's carved himself from ice and steel.

Twenty minutes into the meeting, his dark eyes suddenly fix on mine.

"Ms. Dawson," he says, his voice cutting through the room like a blade. "What's your assessment of the permit delays on Riverside?"

Every head in the room turns toward me. I feel their stares like physical weights, judging, evaluating. The omega who dared to speak in the presence of wolves who matter.

I clear my throat and straighten my shoulders. "Based on the documentation, it appears the delays are primarily due to environmental impact reviews. The forestry department requires additional soil samples before they'll approve the foundation work."

Vincent's dark eyes never leave mine. "And your recommendation?"

"Fast-track the testing. Bring in an independent lab if necessary. The cost of expedited results will be less than the penalties for missing the completion deadline."

A few executives nod approvingly. Vincent's expression doesn't change, but something flickers in his eyes-surprise, maybe, or approval. I can't tell which.

"Reasonable," he says, then turns back to the room. "Meeting adjourned."

The executives begin filing out, their conversations resuming the moment they hit the hallway. I gather my things quickly, hoping to escape before-

"Ms. Dawson." His voice stops me halfway to the door. "My office. Now."

Talia shoots me a worried look but doesn't linger. Vincent doesn't wait for my response before striding out, clearly expecting me to follow.

I take my time gathering the rest of my things, refusing to jump at his command like an eager puppy. When I finally make it to his office, he's standing behind his massive mahogany desk, reading something on his computer screen.

"You wanted to see me?" I ask, keeping my voice professionally neutral.

He doesn't look up immediately. "Close the door."

I hesitate, then do as he asks. The click of the latch sounds unnaturally loud in the silence.

"Sit." He gestures to one of the leather chairs across from his desk.

"I prefer to stand."

Now he does look up, his dark eyes assessing. "Still can't follow simple instructions."

"Still can't ask nicely, I see."

A muscle in his jaw ticks. "I'm listening," he says, leaning back against his chair, exuding an air of arrogant confidence.

"You're listening to what?" I ask, confused by his statement.

"The reason you thought it was okay to just disappear one night and then show up here acting like we're nothing. I want to hear your fucking reason, Kaia."

I steel my emotions, forcing myself and my wolf to ignore the pained hurt in his voice.

"I don't have one," I say, my voice flat.

"You don't have one?" He stands from his chair and walks over to me, his body radiating that Alpha energy that would make most wolves cower. Instead, it makes mine purr with satisfaction that he's so powerful. Weird, I know.

"Nope. I wanted to leave, so I left."

"Kaia," he growls, grabbing my arm as his face gets an inch from mine. God, I love how much I'm getting to him. It must be killing him not knowing the truth.

"Let go," I say quietly, but there's steel in my voice.

His grip tightens. "Seven years. Seven fucking years I've been wondering what I did. What happened. And you just... nothing?"

The pain in his voice almost breaks my resolve. Almost. But then I remember that night, his laughter with Trent.

"Maybe that should tell you something," I say, ice-cold.

His jaw clenches. "That's not an answer."

"It's all you're getting." I jerk my arm free. "Can I go now? I actually have work to do."

I head for the door, but his voice stops me.

"We're not done here."

I look back at him-expensive suit, barely controlled fury, desperation he's trying to hide. For just a second, I let my mask slip. Let him see a hint of what he destroyed.

"Yeah, we are, Vincent," I say softly. "We've been done for seven years."