[Ryder]
It didn't take long for us to reach their pack house. The wolves escorting me didn't bother with the usual theatrics—no sack over my head, no blindfold and my hands weren't tied. That alone told me they weren't expecting to pick a fight. Not yet, anyway. As we walked, I caught snippets of their muttered complaints, questioning why their Alpha wanted to meet a rogue. Their annoyance brought the faintest twitch of a smirk to my lips. I kept my stride steady, my hands shoved casually into my pockets—a predator perfectly at ease.
The pack house was modern, a touch too sparkly for my tastes. They guided me into a spacious study with sleek furniture and walls lined with bookshelves. Behind the large desk sat a middle-aged man, his beard neatly trimmed. The men escorting me bowed slight
