~Zoe~
I crouched behind a cluster of madrona trees on the western ridge overlooking Damon Marx's estate. Everything about this place screamed wealth and privilege—the sprawling white mansion with its floor-to-ceiling windows, the manicured gardens, the private dock where Marx's sleek yacht was moored. From my vantage point, I could see four guards patrolling the perimeter, moving with the fluid grace that I now recognized as... not human.
Werewolves. Actual freaking werewolves.
Three days ago, my biggest concern had been whether I'd get the promotion at Seattle Weekly. Now I was hiding in the bushes on a private island with a pack of werewolves, planning to rescue my roommate from some tech billionaire with a god complex.
"You need to control your heartbeat," Lyra whispered beside me,
