The Wolf Who Loved Me

New Beginning

"You!" I stumble backward, nearly tripping over my own feet. He raises one perfect eyebrow, looking annoyingly composed in his expensive suit. "And you're the woman sleeping on this property." The phone's shrill ring makes me jump. Again. And again. And again.

"Are you planning to answer that?" His voice carries authority that makes my wolf want to submit. Wait—how can a human make me feel this way?

"Why should I?" My voice comes out squeaky. Embarrassing. "I don't work here!"

"Clearly." His eyes trace over my wrinkled dress. "I'm Aiden Blackrock. I own this building now." The phone keeps ringing. My head pounds. My hands shake. "Fine!" I march to the desk, almost knocking over a stack of papers. I look to the calendar on the table "Community Advocacy Group, how may I—I mean, can I—how can I help you?" A trembling voice answers. "Please, we need help. Blackrock Enterprises is evicting everyone from Cedar Grove. They're giving us two days to leave! My children—" Another line blinks. I press the wrong button three times before getting it right. "Community Advocacy Group, hold please!" More calls. More evictions. More people crying. My hands fumble with the notepad as I try to write everything down. Names, numbers, addresses—they blur together. I can feel his eyes on me, watching my every move.

"These people," I say, covering the mouthpiece, "they're being thrown out of their homes. By your company."

"Business is business."

His security guard steps closer, speaking in low tones. "Mr. Blackrock, urgent situation at Cedar Grove. The press is arriving."

Aiden's jaw tightens. He pulls out his phone, stepping away to take a call. His voice carries across the room—commanding. "Tell them to wait. I'll handle it personally." I keep answering calls, my wolf senses picking up part of his conversation. "Legal proceedings... proper notices... media response..." Each word makes my blood boil more. "Try not to make a habit of breaking and entering, Miss...?" He's suddenly beside my desk again.

"Lina. And I didn't break in! The door was—" I stop as he steps closer, his scent hitting me like a wave. Clean. Powerful. Something about it makes my wolf stir.

"About that night," he says quietly, those blue eyes boring into mine. "I don't remember it either. And that's... unusual for me."

Before I can ask what he means, his phone buzzes again. "We need to go, sir," his security guard insists. "The situation's escalating." Aiden hands me his breakfast, the scent of fresh croissant wafts into my nose from the brown paper bag. “Eat,” he says. His eyes linger on me for a moment longer before he turns and strides out, his security detail following like shadows. The door closes behind him with a soft click, leaving me alone with a ringing phone and a thousand questions. What did he mean by 'unusual'? Why can't I remember that night? And why does his scent seem so... right? I grab another call. "Community Advocacy Group, please hold." My hands are still shaking. From anger? Fear? Something else? The front door bangs open, making me yelp. Four people burst in, carrying coffee and talking loudly.

"Tony left the door open again!" A woman with shocking red hair stops short. "Oh! Hello?"

"I'm Ashton," a tall man with silver-streaked hair steps forward. His kind eyes remind me of my old pack's healer. "I'm the director here. And you are...?" The phone rings. I answer without thinking, "Community Advocacy Group, please—wait, I mean—"

"She's been handling calls all morning," says a young man with thick glasses, introducing himself as Tony. His t-shirt reads 'Coding is Poetry.' "I heard her from outside."

"Very professionally too," adds Sarah, a woman in a bright blue makeup. She carries a stack of files and a laptop covered in social justice stickers.

"We could use the help," Ashton watches me juggle another call. "Need a job?"

I think of my dead car. Empty wallet. Growling stomach. The weight of my silver omega necklace—Derrick's gift—suddenly feels suffocating. I reach up and unclasp it, letting it fall into my pocket. "Yes."

"You're hired!" they shout together.

“So who dropped this” Ashton asks

“A man named Aiden Blackrock” I reply.

They all turn around in shock as if I just said the world is ending.

“He came here,” Tony says.

“Yeah,” I reply.

“By himself?” Sarah asks

“He was with a couple of security people I think.”

“Tall broody guy with blue eyes?” Ashton asks.

“Yep.”

“Woah…” they all chorus. All except Ruby—the redhead—who moves to her desk, accidentally knocking over a pile of papers. As she bends to pick them up, an envelope falls from the stack. Her face falls as she reads it. "We're being repossessed by Blackrock Constructions. Today. By 2 PM."

"What?" My newfound hope crumbles. "This Advocacy Group's been here for ten years," Ruby starts to give a history lesson. "My mom started it after the full moon fires. When half the neighborhood burned down, this was the only place helping people rebuild." "Before my time," Tony adjusts his glasses. "But it was huge. Mysterious fires all over the city, always on full moon nights. Nobody ever found out why." Sarah starts pulling files from cabinets. "We have to save these records. Twenty years of helping people—we can't let it disappear."

"Look at this," Ashton holds up a framed photo. "Opening day. Ruby's mom was amazing. She helped everyone, no questions asked. Even took in that poor kid..." The photo slips from his hands. I catch it, wolf reflexes coming in handy. A woman who resembling what Ruby would look like in the next twenty years stands proud in front of the Advocacy Group. A boy in the background holds a bright pink ballon along with a dozen other kids. I feel them before I see them; ten uniformed men all in uniform line up from the window facing the street to the corridor on the left. They stand with their hands folded in front of them like bouncers. The one who looks like the leader stands in front of them holding a big roll of tape.

“And who are you?” Tony asks, standing in what I think is supposed to be an intimidating manner. “Howdy boys and gals,” the man says in a southern drawl. “My names not your concern and I’m here to shut down this establishment by order of Silvercrest City Council.”

“But four hours are still left!”

“So tick tock now, shall we!” He replies.