Page 5

Maya

The office is silent except for the hum of fluorescent lights overhead and the rhythmic tap of my fingers against the keyboard. Even the usual nighttime sounds of the city seem muted from up here, like the building itself is holding its breath.

I glance at the clock. Nearly nine. I should have left hours ago, but the gala preparations are a beast with far too many moving parts, and I refuse to let anything slip through the cracks. The venue contract alone took half an hour to decipher—all that fancy legal language designed to confuse rather than clarify—and I still have to double-check the security arrangements with Sawyer.

I stretch, rolling my shoulders to ease the stiffness settling in. My wolf stirs restlessly beneath my skin, eager for movement after being cooped up all day. The building is mostly empty now, the usual office chatter replaced by the occasional creak of the walls settling. I like the quiet, though. No distractions. No one breathing down my neck. Just me, my to-do list, and—

"You're still here."

The low, deliberate voice cuts through the silence like a blade. I jump, my heart lurching as I whirl around to find Adrian standing in the doorway of my workspace. His suit jacket is gone, the sleeves of his crisp white dress shirt rolled up to reveal the strong lines of his forearms. His presence fills the room instantly, commanding attention with an effortless intensity that makes my skin prickle.

"Jesus," I exhale sharply, pressing a hand to my chest. "Make some noise when you walk, would you? Not all of us have superhuman hearing."

A flicker of something—amusement?—crosses his face. "The lights were still on."

I blink at him. "Yeah, because I'm working. That's what you hired me for, right?"

Adrian doesn't answer immediately. Instead, he steps forward, and it's only then that I notice the white takeout bag in his hand. The rich aroma of food hits my nose, making my stomach clench. Without a word, he sets the bag down on my desk.

"Eat," he says simply.

I frown. "I don't have time—"

He gives me a look. One of those calm, immovable stares that somehow manages to silence arguments before they even form. "You've been here for fourteen hours. Take a break."

I cross my arms, arching a brow. "Is this you being concerned about my well-being, Blackwell?"

He exhales, the barest hint of exasperation flickering across his face. "This is me ensuring my assistant doesn't collapse from exhaustion before the gala." His eyes meet mine, and there's something else there, something softer that makes my breath catch. "Though I suppose the two aren't mutually exclusive."

I narrow my eyes at him, but my stomach betrays me with a low, traitorous growl. Adrian raises a single brow, and I groan. "Fine," I mutter, standing. "But only because I don't want to listen to you nag."

The corner of his mouth twitches. "I don't nag. I direct."

"Right. Because that sounds so much better."

We move to the conference room, where floor-to-ceiling windows offer a stunning view of the city lights spread out below us like scattered stars. I open the takeout bag to find an assortment of high-end dishes. Definitely not from the cheap Chinese place I usually hit up when I'm working late.

"You didn't have to do this," I say as I dig in, the warm, savory flavors immediately melting away some of my tension.

Adrian, who has taken the seat across from me, leans back slightly. "I know." His eyes track my movements with an intensity that makes my skin warm. "You remind me of someone I used to know. Always putting everyone else first, forgetting to take care of yourself."

The admission catches me off guard. Adrian rarely offers personal information voluntarily.

"Who?" I ask softly.

He's quiet for so long I think he won't answer. When he does, his voice is low, careful. "My sister. She was the heart of our pack before..." He trails off, jaw tightening.

I set down my fork. "Before what?"

Adrian's eyes meet mine, and the raw pain I see there makes my chest ache. "Before the hunters found us."

The words hang heavy in the air between us. I want to reach across the table, to offer comfort, but something tells me he's not ready for that. Instead, I share a piece of myself.

"My dad was killed by hunters when I was twelve," I say quietly. "That's why Theo's so protective of the pack now. Why we all are."

Adrian's expression shifts, something fierce and protective flashing in his eyes. His hand moves across the table, not quite touching mine but close enough that I can feel the heat of his skin.

"Is that why you work so hard?" he asks. "To protect them?"

I nod. "Partly. But also because I want more than what the pack can offer. I love them, but sometimes it feels like they're holding on too tight." I meet his gaze. "You understand that, don't you? Wanting something different?"

His fingers brush against mine, just barely, sending electricity skittering up my arm. "More than you know."

The conversation shifts as we eat. I tell him about growing up in Howling Pines, about being the eldest sibling and always feeling like I had to have everything under control. He listens with an intensity that makes me feel seen in a way I haven't experienced before.

When I flip the question back on him, Adrian hesitates, but this time he doesn't completely shut down. He tells me about his old pack, about the weight of expectations and the guilt of surviving when others didn't. Each word seems carefully chosen, measured, but I can hear the pain underneath.

"Since you're so invested in making this gala a success," I say, lightening the mood, "you should come to the next pack run. You and Eli."

Adrian gives me a measured look. "You think that's a good idea?"

I shrug, offering a small smile. "It wouldn't hurt for you to show your face outside of this office. Maybe remind people you're not just some corporate overlord trying to buy up their town."

A muscle in his jaw ticks. "That's not what I'm doing."

"I know," I say softly. "But not everyone else does. And maybe..." I hesitate, then push forward. "Maybe it's time to stop running from what happened. To let yourself be part of something again."

His eyes lock with mine, intense and searching. After a long moment, he gives a slow nod. "I'll think about it."

For Adrian Blackwell, that's practically a yes.

I get up to refill our water glasses, but the moment I stand, a sharp cramp lances through my leg. The pain hits like lightning, making me yelp as my knee buckles. The glass slips from my fingers as I pitch forward.

My wolf instincts kick in, but before I can catch myself, a powerful arm wraps around my waist.

Adrian.

He moves so fast I barely register it happening—one second I'm falling, the next I'm pressed against his chest, his heart thundering beneath my palm.

"I'm fine," I manage, trying to ignore how perfectly I fit against him. "Just a cramp, I can—"

"Stop talking." His voice is rough, almost a growl.

Before I can protest, he lifts me like I weigh nothing, carrying me into his office. My breath catches as his arms tighten, just slightly, before he sets me down on the sleek black couch.

He kneels in front of me, and something in my chest constricts at the sight of Adrian Blackwell—feared CEO, notorious control freak—on his knees.

When his hands move to my calf, I nearly jump out of my skin.

His touch is careful but firm, strong fingers pressing into the tight muscle. The warmth of his skin seeps through me, and I have to bite back a sound that would be mortifying to let escape.

I should stop this.

I should definitely stop this.

But I don't.

Instead, I watch him work, mesmerized by the way his dark brows furrow in concentration, the way his jaw clenches slightly as he focuses. His hands are surprisingly gentle for someone so powerful, each movement precise and measured.

The cramp begins to ease, but Adrian doesn't pull away. His thumbs trace slow circles that send sparks of electricity up my leg, and I forget how to breathe.

"Better?" he asks, his voice lower than usual.

I mean to say yes. I mean to thank him and get up and put some much-needed distance between us.

Instead, I whisper, "Don't stop."

His hands still.

Slowly, so slowly it feels like time itself has frozen, Adrian lifts his gaze to mine. The storm in his eyes makes my heart stutter—there's something raw there, something dangerous and hungry that makes my wolf want to run.

Or maybe stay very, very still.

He leans in, just slightly, and I catch the slight tremor in his breathing. His hand slides up to my knee, leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

"Maya." My name falls from his lips like a warning—or a prayer.

The air between us crackles with electricity, with all the things we shouldn't want but do. With all the reasons this is a terrible idea, and all the reasons I don't care.

His face is inches from mine now. I can see the flecks of silver in his eyes, the slight stubble along his jaw, the way his pulse jumps in his throat.