Page 53 of Clashing With The Grumpy Wolf

"Entry points need to be limited to the main gate and east terrace only," I explain, pointing at the estate layout in front of us. "No exceptions. If they're not on the approved list, they don't get in."

Bobbynods, making a note on his tablet.

"What about the vendors? The florist wants a two-hour window for setup."

"Narrow it to ninety minutes, and I want someone from security with them at all times," I respond, scanning the perimeter of the garden. "Maya, you'll coordinate the vendor escorts."

"Got it, boss." Maya tucks a strand of her dark hair behind her ear. "And what about—"

The sound of an alarm cuts her off mid-sentence, its shrill cry piercing the peaceful garden. All three of us snap to attention, hands automatically moving toward our weapons.

"That’s the fire alarm," I bark, shifting into crisis mode. "Bobby, call first responders, make sure they’re on their way. Maya, make sure the staff evacuates, no exception. I'll check the guests in the east wing."

“Isn’t Julia and the bride’s family in the east wing right now?”

Julia.

Her name floods my mind before any thought of safety has a chance to enter my brain. My wolf surges at the thought of her in danger and I feel the beast push right under my skin. Bobby and Maya watch me with wide eyes as I turn around.

My senses, already sensitive before the change, are even sharper now that the beast lay just under the surface. I can smell the smoke coming from the building, acrid and biting.

I have to get to her. I have to get to Julia.

I run, following a mixture of blind instinct and the faint traces of her scent through the long hallways.

The manor erupts into chaos around me. Staff members rush past in panicked clusters, some shouting instructions that get swallowed by the relentless wail of the alarm. Dragon clan members push throughthe crowd, their wings partially spread in an instinctive response to danger.

I move against the flow of bodies, shoulder first, cutting through the evacuating crowd. My height and bulk create a path where none exists.

My heart hammers against my ribs, a primal rhythm that has nothing to do with the smoke filling my lungs and everything to do with the woman I need to find. I extend my senses, sifting through the cacophony of scents, smoke, fear, the ashen smell of agitated dragons, searching for Julia's distinctive combination of jasmine, vanilla, and something uniquely her. Something that belongs only to my mate.

Percy barrels down the grand staircase ahead of me, his massive wings half-extended, tips scraping the ornate walls. His eyes blaze with dragon fire, his usual composure utterly gone.

"Adrian!" He grabs my arm with nearly painful force. "Have you seen Seraphina?"

"No. I'm looking for Julia." I scan over his shoulder, trying to pierce the veil of smoke. "Are they safe outside?"

"I don't know." His grip tightens. Dragons aren't built for uncertainty, and the possibility of his mate in danger has stripped away all of Percy's usual charm. "It’s coming from the east wing. I’ve heard someone say the fire started in a back room on the first floor. Adrian, the Rose Salon is on the second floor. Right above the fire."

Above the fire. Julia could be trapped up there.

"We’ll find them," I tell him. "Chemko already called first responders."

Percy nods once and follows me into the chaos.

A flash of movement catches my eye, someone moving too quickly, too purposefully against the flow of evacuation. Clad in all black, a slender figure heads away from the east wing. But before I can focus, a cluster of kitchen staff rushes between us, and the figure disappears from view.

Then I hear it. Julia's voice, calling for help, followed by a painful bout of coughing. The sound cuts through the chaos like a beacon, pulling me toward the east wing with unstoppable force.

My wolf surges forward, lending me preternatural speed as I race toward the sound of my mate in distress. The smoke thickens with every step, until the ornate wallpaper and antique furnishings blur into gray shadows. The portraits of ancient Draak ancestors watching through the haze, their painted eyes seeming to follow my desperate progress.

I reach the east wing to find smoke pouring into the hallway in thick black plumes.

The scent of burning plastic, ash, and old timber overwhelms the space as I keep running, my brain fogged by my half-shifted state.

Then I finally find her.

Through the choking haze, I spot three figures at the top of the east stairwell landing. My vision tunnels, heart stuttering as my brain struggles to process the nightmarish tableau before me. I see it all through the eyes of the beast.