Fated in New Orleans

10

The alarms hit first—low, throaty, and constant, like the building itself was growling. Metal shutters began to descend over the outer windows with a hydraulic hiss, sealing the control room in steel and shadow.

“Lockdown engaged,” Rhea announced, voice a notch higher than usual as she tapped her tablet. “He’s forcing the eastern door—how the hell did he override it that fast?”

“Because he knows our codes,” Salem snapped, spinning toward her screens. “He’s been in the system longer than we thought.”

River was already at the entrance, posture rigid, every inch of him gone Alpha—eyes sharp, movements deliberate. “Rhea, lock every access point but this one. Miles and Beau are circling from outside; we contain him here.”

Rhea hesitated. “He’s not right, River. His vitals are spiking—whatever’s driving him, it’s not just loyalty gone bad.”

The words barely left her mouth before a heavy thud rattled the reinforced door. Another hit followed—harder, angrier. The metal groaned.

Salem turned to the nearest feed, jaw clenching. Dax’s face filled the screen—eyes bloodshot, canines extended, sweat slicking his temples. He wasn’t just angry. He was breaking.

“Feral,” she murmured. “He’s past reason.”

Rhea swore softly. “That’s not good.”

“No,” Salem said, voice dropping, “that’s dangerous.”

The door jolted again, this time denting inward. River stepped forward, voice cold steel. “He gets through, you stay behind me.”

Salem’s glare could’ve cut glass. “I don’t take orders, Alpha.”

He didn’t look back. “Then consider it a suggestion.”

The door finally gave way with a sharp metallic crack, and Dax stumbled through—breathing hard, pupils blown wide. His scent hit the air first: rage and sweat and desperation.

“Where is she?” he rasped, scanning the room before locking on Salem.

Rhea stiffened. “Oh, this just got personal.”

“Dax,” River started, calm but commanding, “stand down.”

But the enforcer’s gaze didn’t waver. His voice came out rough, splintered. “She’s the reason everything’s falling apart. You—both of you—can’t even see it.”

Salem rose slowly from her chair, one hand resting against the desk. “You’ve been watching me, Dax. Sending messages. Planning to drag me off somewhere. That about right?”

He bared his teeth, half snarl, half sneer. “You’re poison. You’ve got the Alphas twisted up, distracted. You change things—make people question the way it’s always been.”

Salem’s eyes darkened, that cold fire lighting behind them. “That’s called doing my job.”

He lunged.

River was faster. One step forward, a blur of motion, and his arm caught Dax mid-swing, driving him back into the doorframe hard enough to rattle the hinges. The growl that followed wasn’t human—it vibrated through the room, low and primal.

Miles’s voice came through comms, sharp and urgent. “We’re outside. What the hell’s going on in there?”

“Dax’s gone feral,” Rhea barked. “He’s after Salem!”

Static. Then Miles again. “On our way.”

Salem didn’t flinch, even as Dax snarled inches from River’s grip. Her voice stayed cool, clinical. “His pulse is erratic. Eyes blown. Someone’s dosing him.”

Rhea blinked. “With what?”

“Something that dulls logic and amps aggression,” she said grimly. “Seen it before in military compounds—makes wolves rabid.”

Dax’s nails scraped against the floor as he twisted, shoving River back a half step. His eyes flicked toward Salem again, wild and glassy.

“You don’t belong here,” he spat. “You’re tearing everything apart!”

“Funny,” Salem shot back, “that’s exactly what I’m here to stop.”

Miles burst through the side entrance with Beau right behind him, both moving fast, weapons drawn but held low.

“Down!” River ordered.

Miles lunged, catching Dax’s arm while Beau swept his legs out from under him. The three men hit the floor in a tangle of muscle and fury. Dax thrashed, half growl, half scream, until Salem crossed to the wall and hit the manual override.

A sharp hiss filled the air—tranquilizer mist from the containment vents.

Within seconds, Dax’s struggles slowed, then stopped. His breathing stayed ragged, but his eyes rolled back, feral glow dimming to exhaustion.

The silence that followed was thick, pulsing.

Rhea exhaled first, dragging a hand through her hair. “Well… that was fun.”

Miles shot her a look. “Your definition of fun needs revising.”

Salem crouched beside Dax, expression unreadable. “He’s not just angry. He’s compromised.” She looked up at River. “Someone fed him a purpose and a chemical cocktail to back it up.”

River’s voice was low, dangerous. “We find who did this.”

Salem nodded once, gaze hard as steel. “We will. And when we do?” Her lips curved slightly. “They’ll wish they’d stayed out of my system.”