A kingdom of glass and shadows emerged when the elevator doors whispered open. As she entered Nero King's penthouse office, Alessia Blackmoon's high heels sank into the Persian rug that had been imported. The scent-masking spell clinging to her skin prickled like static— six hours left before it fades. Six hours to not get caught.
With his back to her, Nero King stood across the room, silhouetted against the neon cityscape of Manhattan, a crystal tumbler of amber liquor hanging from his fingers.
"You're late, Miss Blackwood." His voice was winter river runoff—cold, relentless, capable of drowning fools.
Alessia's wolf bristled beneath her skin. Human arrogance. She forced a smile. "Midnight traffic, Mr. King."
He turned.
Oh.
The dossier hadn't prepared her for this.
Nero King wasn't handsome. The harsh elegance of his mouth, the razor-cut lines of his face, and the way his pale green eyes brushed over her as if she were a ledger that needed to be balanced were all too delicate for that phrase. The platinum watch on his wrist gleamed in the dim light as his black suit clung to his broad shoulders with the accuracy of armor. The face of it bore an engraving— a wolf's skull split by a dagger.
The King family crest.
Alessia's nails bit into her palms.
"Sit." He gestured to the chair across from his obsidian desk.
She sat. Nero's focus was already back on the papers in front of him, even if the leather moaned beneath her. Like a garrote wire, the quiet was stretched. The ventilation system of the building hummed somewhere in the walls, blowing chilly air that smelled somewhat of chemical and iron.
His labs. He's been down there tonight.
Her wolf snarled a warning.
Nero set down his pen with a click. "Your references claim you're fluent in Mandarin."
"And Russian." She crossed her legs, letting her skirt ride up just enough to draw his gaze. "Among other... specialized skills."
"Hm." He leaned back, steepling his fingers. The dim light caught on the silver ring he wore—another wolf motif. "What do you know about wolves, Miss Blackwood?"
The question was like a bullet from a sniper.
He knows. Oh gods, he knows.
Alessia kept her face blank. "They're pack animals. Territorial. Excellent hunters."
"And if one got into this building?" His thumb traced the edge of his watch. "How would you handle it?"
With my teeth in its throat. She tilted her head. "Depends. Is it rabid?"
Nero's lips twitched. "Assume it is."
"T I'd call security." She held his gaze. "Unless you prefer more... hands-on solutions?"
A beat. Then—
Nero moved
One moment he was across the desk. The next, his hands braced on the arms of her chair, caging her in. His scent enveloped her—bourbon and bergamot, yes, but beneath it, something feral, something that made her wolf whimper in recognition.
Alpha.
But that was impossible. Nero King was human.
Wasn't he?
His breath warmed her lips. "I do."
Alessia's spell flickered.
No! She clenched her fists, nails biting into her palms. The magic held—barely—but Nero's nostrils flared.
He smelled that.
His gaze dropped to her mouth. "You're shaking."
"Adrenaline." She bared her teeth in something too sharp to be a smile. "I do love a good hunt."
Nero's laugh was a dark promise. He straightened, walking back to his desk with that unnatural grace. "Let's test that."
He tapped a key on his laptop. The wall behind him lit up with a screen, displaying grainy security footage—night vision, blood-splattered. A thing with glowing eyes tore through a steel door.
A werewolf.
One of ours.
Alessia's stomach twisted. The wolf on screen was feral, jaws unhinged, muscles writhing under its fur. It didn't look like her kind. It looked rabid.
"Seattle branch," Nero said, voice detached. "Three dead."
She forced her breathing steady. "Corporate espionage gone wrong?"
"Cute." He zoomed in on the creature's face. "Tell me what you really see."
I see a wolf poisoned by silver nitrate. I see one of mine.
She crossed her arms. "It's sick."
"And?"
"And it's terrified."
Nero went very still.
Alessia pressed on. "Look at its eyes. The way it keeps shaking its head. That's not aggression—it's pain. Someone did this to it."
The silence that followed was thicker than blood.
Then Nero smiled.
It wasn't a pleasant expression.
"You're right," he said softly. "King Corp did."
[SMASH CUT TO: LATER THAT NIGHT]
The lab was colder than the office, all steel and blue-tinted LED lights. Alessia's new keycard had gotten her past security with disturbing ease—too easy, her wolf whispered.
In the center of the room sat Lupus Lumen, Nero's pet project. The sleek black console displayed a 3D model of a wolf's skeletal structure, its weaknesses highlighted in pulsing red.
Our secrets. Mapped.
She stepped closer. The screen flickered.
SYSTEM READY.
Alessia exhaled. Just another human playing with toys they didn't understand. She reached out—
The second her fingers brushed the keyboard, the screen exploded in static.
WARNING: ALPHA DETECTED.
No.
She jerked back, but it was too late. Red text scrolled across the screen:
GENETIC MATCH: BLACKMOON. THREAT LEVEL: OMEGA. INITIATE PROTOCOL—
The screen went black.
Then, from the doorway, a slow clap.
Alessia whirled.
Nero leaned against the doorframe, his tie loosened, a fresh glass of whiskey in hand. "Fascinating."
The walk back to the elevators took an eternity. Nero didn't speak. Didn't explain the AI's reaction. Just watched her with those predator's eyes as she gathered her things.
The elevator doors opened.
Alessia stepped inside.
Just as they began to close, a hand shot out—thick-knuckled, scarred—and caught them.
Nero's head of security, Graves, loomed in the gap. His nostrils widened as he breathed in her aroma. Then, with an overly wide smile, he slipped a folded paper into her hand.
The doors shut.
Alessia unfolded the paper.
Two words, scrawled in what looked like blood:
"RUN, LITTLE WOLF."
[TO BE CONTINUED]