The marble floor echoed with Elena Romano's heels as she entered the abandoned hotel suite, her eyes narrowed, her stance proud. The stench of cigarette smoke and blood clung to the air like a curse. She wasn't here to make peace. She was here to draw lines.
And yet, the moment Lucien Blackthorn turned to face her, everything sharpened.
He was taller than the rumors said. Broader. Deadlier. His eyes—ice and fire. Alpha of the Blackthorn Pack, and now, the only obstacle in her way.
"You're late," he said, voice rough like gravel dragged over silk.
"You're arrogant," she shot back. "Let's call it even."
Lucien didn't smile. He never did. But something in his gaze sparked at her defiance.
"You called this meeting," he said, stepping closer, towering. "Speak."
"I didn't call this for pleasantries. The hybrid attacks? They hit my docks. You own this territory. You tell me why."
Lucien's jaw clenched. "They're rogue. They don't answer to me."
"But they came through your sector," she said, voice dropping like poison in wine. "So either you're blind or you're lying."
The room crackled with tension.
Lucien stepped in close, his breath brushing her cheek. "Careful, princess. I bite."
Elena smiled coldly. "And I shoot wolves for fun."
A beat of silence. Just heartbeats and hate.
Then he backed off. "We're not doing this here. If we're going to survive what's coming, you'll follow my lead."
She laughed. "In your dreams."
Lucien's smirk was brief—and lethal. "Then you better learn how to run."
He walked past her, brushing her shoulder, his energy leaving a shiver behind. She hated that. Hated him.
And yet, something inside her stirred—curiosity, danger, desire.
Elena Romano had walked into enemy territory.
But Lucien Blackthorn?He had just met his match.