If someone were to ask Celeste what her ideal summit looked like, she’d probably say something like a quiet boardroom, maybe a civilized exchange of ideas, perhaps even a strong cup of coffee.
Definitely not a murdered traitor, sabotaged security, and a threatening note shoved under her door like an angry post-it from hell. But here they were.
The Summit of Secrets, as Logan had dubbed it in his overly dramatic whisper voice, was officially spiraling into chaos. Celeste, ever the optimist, or delusional romantic, depending on who you asked, had still hoped the evening might end with answers, or at least a hot bath.
Instead, she got a lockdown, a dead rogue spy, and a balcony moment with her aggravating, gorgeous co-Alpha.
Hunter hadn’t left her side since the threat. Not that she aske
