Born To Be More

Surprises

Raine

I kiss Max goodbye and head for the door, Tiffany and Sam right behind me. The moment we hit the hotel lobby, I spot the crowd through the glass—paparazzi, swarming like flies.

“Sorry, Miss Marshall,” the porter says apologetically. “Media isn’t allowed inside, but we can’t stop them from gathering on public footpaths.”

“No problem,” I reply calmly, though my heart rate kicks up. I glance at Sam.

“They weren’t here when we arrived,” he mutters, eyes scanning the scene.

“Someone called them?”

“Don’t know. But I’ll find out,” he says, stepping closer and grabbing my elbow protectively.

As we push through the glass doors, the wall of flashing lights hits me instantly. I slip on my sunglasses and zero in on the car. Flashes explode around me. Voices are shouting my name from every direction.

“Raine! Raine!”

“Are you engaged to Max Crawford?”

“Are you living with Max Crawford?”

“Raine, Raine—look over here!”

These people are insane.

Security—Craig, I think—parts the crowd, and I’m thankful for the human barrier between me and this chaos. Sam nudges me forward, and Craig opens the door. I slip into the car quickly, heart thudding. On the other side, Craig helps Tiffany in, who looks overwhelmed.

As we pull away, I blow out a breath. “Well, that was a mission. Sam—please find out who the i***t was that tipped them off.”

“On it, Raine,” he says grimly.

“Tiffany, are you okay?” I ask, eyeing her pale face.

She nods but looks shaken. “I thought it would be glamorous to be part of this scene, but that was... a little scary.”

I’m honestly surprised. For someone who usually radiates shameless confidence, I expected her to lap up the attention—not shrink from it. Huh. Maybe I judged her too quickly.

“It won’t be like that every time,” I tell her gently. “But now you understand why it was so important to call ahead to those appointments this morning—to organize safe access.”

Her eyes widen in alarm. “Oh my God! I’m calling them back right now and making sure they’ve actually done what I asked!”

“Good,” I say, nodding. “And let them know we might be a little late—we’re taking a few precautions to make sure we’re not being followed.”

Craig meets my eyes in the rearview mirror and gives a small nod. He’s already on it.

I watch New York blur past as we weave through traffic, the city buzzing around us like it’s had three espressos too many. Then I see it.

“Holy f**k,” I blurt. “What the f**k? Why is it so big? Oh my God!”

Tiffany laughs from the seat beside me. “That went up yesterday. Pretty cool, huh?”

“Uh, no. It’s f*****g huge,” I say, eyes wide, frozen in place like I’m witnessing a car crash in slow motion.

Sam chuckles from the front seat.

“Sam,” I growl, narrowing my eyes.

“Don’t growl at Sam,” Tiffany says with a grin. “You’re the Chic girl now. All the Chic girls go up in Times Square eventually.”

I stare at her blankly. “What?”

“Raine, you’re everywhere right now. Have you even looked at the news? Checked a magazine? Googled yourself?”

“No,” I admit, still stunned.

She beams. “Do you have a public i********: account?”

“Oh my God, no. Do I need one?” I ask, suddenly panicking at the thought.

“Yes!” she says, already opening her phone. “Don’t worry, I’ll help you get started.”

“You’ll be fine, Raine. We’ve got you,” Sam says, glancing at me in the rearview mirror.

Tiffany nods, all calm and confident, before diving into whatever she’s doing on her phone. Meanwhile, I’m sitting here wondering when the hell my life got so loud.

We arrived at Silver. Sam immediately contacted the security team, who had already arrived and connected with Tiffany’s arranged contact.

“Okay, everything’s ready, Raine,” Sam said, turning to me from the front seat. “Stay in the car until I open your door. Tiffany, Craig will come get you first and escort you to the sidewalk. Then I’ll get Raine. Got it?”

We all nodded, and I waited while Tiffany stepped out with Craig. When Sam opened my door, I moved quickly. “Let’s go, Raine,” he said, and we made our way swiftly to the entrance.

No paparazzi. No drama. Thank God.

As soon as we stepped inside, a loud voice greeted us from the foyer.

“Welcome to Silver! Raine Marshall!”

A tall woman with platinum hair and an even brighter smile came toward me like she was stepping onto a stage.

“That’s your contact—Shanon,” Tiffany whispered, clearly fighting a laugh.

“Hi, nice to meet you, Shanon,” I said warmly.

“Come on up and let’s get started! You must be very busy. You know what they say—time is money!” she laughed, her tone several octaves too high to be natural.

Tiffany glanced at me with wide eyes and a twitching mouth. I kept a straight face—barely.

“Great,” I said, following Shanon into the conference lounge.

The visit was exactly what I expected: change into a few different outfits, pose for some headshots, then do a walk for the client team. Straightforward. Painless.

When it wrapped, I turned to them. “Before we go any further, I’d love to know more about your company—what you stand for. What’s your vision for the brand, and what are your core values?”

The room fell quiet for a beat. It was clear they weren’t used to models asking questions.

But if I’m going to be the face of something, I need to know what I’m aligning myself with.

They launch into a passionate speech about the company’s mission—sustainability, inclusivity, and transparency. I nod, impressed by their enthusiasm. Whether or not they’re the real deal is yet to be seen, but I like people who try. It’s not the flashy brands or soulless corporations that win me over—it’s the people behind them who can walk the talk.

With security in place, I shake hands with the Silver team and make my way out to the street, Sam at my elbow.

The second we step outside, chaos erupts.

“Raine! Over here!”

“Raine, are the rumors true?”

“Raine, this way—look up!”

Flashes go off like lightning. Paparazzi crowd the footpath, pushing and shouting over one another. I keep my head down and try to focus on Sam’s hand guiding me forward.

But then—every hair on my body stands up.

A prickle crawls across my skin, the unmistakable chill of being watched. I glance up, instinct pulling my eyes to the right.

And there he is.

A man stands just beyond the crowd—hood pulled low over a cap, chin tilted just enough for me to see the grin I’ll never forget. Cold. Smug. Mark.

“Sam,” I whisper-yell, “Mark’s here!”

He doesn’t hesitate. Sam shoves me into the car, barking commands over his shoulder. “Craig, move. Now.”

Tiffany practically dives in behind me, both of us fumbling with our seatbelts as Craig hits the gas. Tires screech. The door barely closes before we’re lurching into traffic.

Sam is yelling into his phone. Craig’s on his earpiece, rapid-fire with someone from Silver.

I twist to look behind us, but Sam pulls me back down. “Stay low, Raine.”

My heart is pounding. My chest tightens.

He found me.

I knew I felt that creep nearby. The shift in the air, the electric hum under my skin—I could feel the danger before I saw him. My instincts are getting sharper. Maybe it’s my wolf. Maybe it’s just me finally paying attention.

I turn toward Tiffany, who’s unusually quiet beside me.

“We’re heading to Chic next, right?” I ask, trying to ground us in something normal.

She startles a bit. “Uh… yes. Yep, Chic is next,” she says, eyes flicking between the window and her phone. She looks pale—definitely rattled.

“You okay?” I ask her gently.

She exhales slowly, nodding. “Just a little worried, I guess. I didn’t know it would be like… this.”

Her voice is small. Not her usual confident, flirty self.

“Are you having second thoughts?” I ask her directly.

Tiffany shakes her head quickly. “No. Um—no. I’m just having… a lot of thoughts,” she says with a breathy laugh that doesn’t quite land.

I smile and reach for her hand briefly. “We’ll be okay. You did great this morning. Chic will be easier—we know the layout, the security’s tight, and the coffee’s decent,” I say, trying to lighten the mood.

She gives me a weak smile, and I see the flicker of resolve behind her eyes. Good. Because I’m going to need every capable person I can get right now.

Arriving at Chic was surprisingly smooth—we seemed to beat the media here, if they even followed us at all. Sam was extra careful getting me out of the car, scanning the street like we were entering a war zone. I heard Craig murmuring something softly to Tiffany as we headed toward the glass doors.

"Please answer your phone once you get inside, Raine. Max is blowing mine up," Sam said under his breath.

I groaned. “Sam, why would Max be blowing up your phone?”

“I already filled him in on what happened,” Sam said, holding the door open for me. “Let’s just say it took the entire trip here to calm him down. That, and he’s been trying to reach you.”

Right on cue, my phone buzzed. I pulled it out of my bag and winced. Eight missed calls.

Oops.

Still on silent from the earlier meeting.

I answered quickly. “Max, hey.”

“Angel.” His voice came through sharp and frantic. “Please answer your goddamn phone! I’ve been calling you nonstop—are you okay?”

I stepped into the safety of the lobby and took a breath. “Yes, Max. I’m fine, honestly.” I paused. “It was kind of weird though. I felt him before I saw him. Like I knew danger was near—my whole body just… tightened. And then I spotted him.”

“f**k,” Max growled, his voice vibrating with fury on the other end of the line. “I’m heading there now.”

“Max, you don’t need to—”

“Do you need me to come to you, Angel? I can be there in seven minutes,” Max says.

I blink. “Wait... did you just Google Map the distance and time from you to me?” I ask, already laughing.

There’s a pause. “Um… maybe,” he mutters. “But the point is, I can be there if you need me, OK?”

His voice has that sharp edge of worry again, and I hear the tension underneath it—Max is spiraling.

“Max,” I sigh, softening my voice. “Calm your ass down. We’re all OK. You already know I’m at Chic, and after this we’ll head back to the apartment for lunch, alright?”

Sam and Craig are standing nearby with their mouths open like stunned goldfish. Tiffany’s trying to hold in her laughter but failing miserably.

Oops.

I clear my throat. “Sorry, Max. I’ll talk to you at lunch, OK?”

He exhales audibly on the other end. “Be safe, Angel, please.”

That hits me straight in the heart. Damn it.

“I will,” I promise quietly, then hang up.

The whole week had been full-on—client meet and greets, outfit changes, media briefings, and rushed lunches with Max whenever our schedules aligned. He slept over every night, refusing to be more than a wall away from me. Not that I was complaining. I’d been “punished” for my smart-ass comment at Chic earlier in the week... and honestly? That was one consequence I could live with.

This weekend, I finally had a bit of downtime. I planned to explore more of New York and maybe spend an entire day slouching around in my pajamas, no makeup, no pressure. But even with a free weekend on the horizon, my mind wouldn’t switch off.

My birthday was looming—next weekend. And with it, all the stress I’d been trying to keep buried. I needed to talk to Max. About what was coming. About everything. The lawyer from New Zealand would be arriving soon, and whatever he had to say felt like it was going to change everything again. I wasn’t ready. I was excited, scared, and curious all rolled into one anxious ball.

Tiffany had surprised me this week. The girl had dialed down the slut-o-meter and actually gotten serious about her job. I was half-waiting for it to be an act, but no—she was showing up, organized, even pleasant to be around. Color me shocked. I’d even caught her defending me to some grumpy old PR exec, and that was when I realized she might just be ride-or-die after all.

Still, there was an edge sitting under my skin, humming like static. Change was coming, fast. I could feel it in my bones.

We get back to the apartment and Sam walks me to my door.

"Rion just did a sweep. It’s all clear. He’s in your kitchen, apparently under-caffeinated and dramatic about it," Sam says with a smirk.

I laugh because, yeah, I know exactly what that means. "Thanks for this week, Sam. I know it’s been a rough start, and I appreciate everything you’ve done."

He just gives me that calm, steady nod of his and opens the door.

"Hi Raine! I’m in the kitchen!" Rion shouts from somewhere inside.

I dump my bag near the entrance, kick off my shoes, and head toward the smell of espresso.

"Want a coffee?" he calls again as I walk in.

"What do you think, genius?" I shoot back, eyebrows raised.

He laughs and pours me a cup. "Max won’t be home for about an hour—mind if I hang out?"

I take the mug, inhaling the life-giving steam. "Max put you on babysitting duty?"

"Nah," he says, grinning. "I just like you for your coffee."

"Uh huh," I say, squinting at him over the rim of my mug. "Sure it’s not because Max threatened to rip your spine out if I was left alone?"

He holds up both hands. "That may have been mentioned. Vaguely. But for the record, I was already on my way over before that link came through."

"Uh huh," I repeat, smiling despite myself. "Well, thanks. It’s kind of nice, not being alone right now."

Rion gives me a rare, sincere look. "You’ve got a lot coming at you, Raine. No one expects you to handle it solo."

I nod, sipping my coffee in silence for a moment. He's right. And even though I didn’t ask for any of this—wolves, danger, secrets—I’m not alone anymore.

"So," Rion starts, sipping his coffee like it’s whiskey, "what’s up with Tiffany? She hasn’t hit on me in days."

I raise an eyebrow. "Not sure exactly, but she’s been showing up on time, buttoned-up, and shockingly appropriate. I think hell might be freezing over."

He smirks. "Weird. Kinda miss her borderline harassment."

"Yeah, I’m sure that’s what you miss most." I lean against the counter and sip my coffee, then shift gears. "Hey, Rion—any update on Mark?"

He stiffens, just slightly. "Uh, yeah… but can I wait until Max gets home?"

"Nope."

"s**t," he mutters, dragging a hand down his face. "Max is gonna kill me."

I don’t break eye contact.

He sighs in defeat. "Alright. We know Mark’s from New Zealand, and that someone hired him to follow you. We don’t know exactly what his endgame is yet, but we’re sure of one thing—he’s not working alone."

My stomach drops. "Do you know who he’s working for?"

Rion hesitates, visibly uncomfortable.

"Rion," I say, my voice sharp now. "Tell me."

He stares into his coffee like it might have answers, then finally looks up. "It’s your Aunty, Raine. I’m sorry."

I freeze. My heart lurches into my throat. "You’re telling me my Aunty hired someone to stalk me?"

He nods, his jaw tight. "Yeah. We believe she’s tied to whatever arrangement was made to suppress your wolf. She didn’t want you stepping back into this world. And it gets worse—Mark has contacts here in New York. People on the ground. People he’s paid to make things... difficult for you."

I start pacing, anger rising in my chest like a storm surge. "Why would she do that? She raised me. I thought she was protecting me."

"I think it’s all connected to why that lawyer from New Zealand insists on meeting you in person," he says quietly. "There’s more to this than you’ve been told. And I think the documents he’s bringing… might explain it."

I stop pacing and stare at the floor. My pulse is racing. My own Aunty. The woman who tucked me in at night. Who made me believe I was just a normal girl.

I grit my teeth. "If Max had told me this, I would have been pissed he kept it from me. Thanks for being honest, Rion."

He nods solemnly. "Max’ll still kill me. But I figured you’d rather hear it now."

"Yeah," I say. "I would."