Page 11

“The meeting, Archer.” Zane checked his reflection in the window, adjusting his silver tie. Perfect, as always. The alpha of the Whitlock Clan couldn’t show up to council looking anything less. “Don’t make me use the alpha voice, baby brother.”

Zane strode through the executive floor of Whitlock Tower, his presence commanding immediate attention. Shifters had a natural hierarchy, and he was apex—every wolf in the building knew it. Staff members bowed their heads respectfully as he passed, their wolves automatically submitting to their alpha. The scent of submission and respect filled the air, a familiar comfort he usually enjoyed. Today, however, it felt hollow compared to the lingering memory of cherry blossoms and moonlight.

The main office space sprawled before him, a sea of suits and shifting energies. Wolves from every pack in his clan worked here, their combined presence creating an atmosphere of controlled power. Floor-to-ceiling windows bathed everything in natural light—wolves didn’t do well in cramped, dark spaces. Modern art pieces adorned the walls, while strategic touches of silver and crystal—a nod to their clan emblem—reminded everyone whose territory this was.

And yet, his wolf mused,none of it feels as interesting as that beautiful vampire who invaded our garden this morning.

The private elevator recognized his presence, doors sliding open silently. He’d insisted on security measures that would make the Lionheart Clan’s divine fortifications look relaxed, but right now, his mind kept drifting to how easily Luca had slipped past them all.

The underground garage was his sanctuary—classic cars lined up like soldiers, each one perfect, pristine, and…

“Is thatdirton your shoes, Archer?”

His youngest brother lounged against the Bentley, looking like he’d just rolled through the library’s rare manuscript section. His golden hair was tousled, his designer shirt half-untucked, and yes—those were definitely carpet fibers on his loafers.

“The Persian rug and I had a very deep conversation.” Archer grinned, that infamous dimple appearing. “Did you know it was woven during the Ming Dynasty? Very philosophical, that rug.”

Ryker, already holding the driver’s door open, raised an eyebrow. “The Ming Dynasty was Chinese, not Persian.”

“Details, details. The point is?—”

“The point is,” Zane cut in, “you look like you’ve been dragged backward through the Sato Clan’s zen garden. Fix the shirt. Brush off the shoes. And for Moon’s sake, do something about that hair.”

“But the messy look is in! The Park Clan’s newest idol group?—”

“The Park Clan isn’t representing the most powerful wolf pack in New Vale at today’s council meeting.”

Ten minutes and several grooming arguments later, they were finally on the road. The car merged onto New Vale’s Magical Transit Network—MTN, where their enhanced vehicle automatically switched to supernatural drive. These crystal-powered sky bridges, suspended high above the city, offered breathtaking views of New Vale’s sprawling districts and served most of the city’s ever-growing population of five hundred million. At speeds of up to six hundred miles per hour, what would normally be a two-hour cross-city journey became a comfortable thirty-minute cruise.

“Engaging supernatural drive,” the car’s AI announced as crystal-powered engines hummed to life. Ryker settled back as magical autopilot took over, the crystalline lanes sparkling with ward magic. Far below, the Underground Transit System (UTS) handled the city’s freight and deliveries, while up here, citizens enjoyed panoramic views of their supernatural metropolis. The morning commute filled the MTN’s multiple lanes, as supernatural beings made their way to work in magically enhanced vehicles.

Zane focused on his tablet, reviewing the meeting agenda while watching their territory fall away. The Whitlock district’s financial hub, with its gleaming towers and powerful wards, gave way to the artistic spires of Kingston territory, then the traditional architecture of the Cheng Clan’s domain. In the distance, Council Hall rose above Central District, its ancient magic a beacon even from miles away.

In the back seat, Archer had started humming what sounded suspiciously like the latest Park-Kingston collaboration single.

“So.” Archer’s voice cut through the comfortable silence. “Is it just me, or was Luca acting weird today?”

Zane’s fingers tightened on the tablet. In the driver’s seat, Ryker’s shoulders tensed slightly.

“I mean, he was actually in the library.Usingit, not just hiding in it,” Archer continued, frowning slightly. “And when I helped him up after the ladder incident, he didn’t immediately bolt. That’s… different, right?”

“Council meeting,” Zane said firmly, ignoring how his wolf perked up at the mentioning of Luca. “Focus on the agenda.”

“But—”

“The Hawkins pipeline issue needs resolution. The Bellini-Kingston territory dispute?—”

“Fine, fine.” Archer sighed dramatically, slumping back against the leather seats. “But something’s different. I just can’t put my finger on what.”

The Bentley glided through downtown New Vale, passing from Whitlock territory into the neutral zone where Council Hall stood. Ancient magic thrummed beneath the pavement here, old treaties and stronger powers than even alpha wolves keeping the peace.

Modern skyscrapers gave way to older architecture—a blend of all thirteen clans’ influences. Dragon sculptures from the Chengs watched from rooftops while the Blackthorns’ gothicspires pierced the clouds. The Kingstons’ sleek entertainment complexes shared streets with the Bellini Clan’s galleries. Somehow, it worked. Most of the time.

“Heads up,” Ryker murmured as they approached Council Hall. “Looks like the Shadowmeres are already here.”

Sure enough, a fleet of black SUVs with tinted windows lined the private entrance. Trust the Death District’s rulers to arrive early and unseen.

“Ten bucks says they’re planning something ominous.” Archer leaned forward between the front seats, his shirt already coming untucked again. “Nobody wears that much black in summer unless they’re up to no good.”