NORTH RIDGE
The boardroom was full, the meeting was in session, but Patrick wasn’t really there.
He sat at the head of the table, fingers drumming lightly against the surface every now and then, while a cluster of elders and pack representatives discussed security expansions, logistics, and trade routes between their territories.
Voices rose and fell around him, words pouring into one another, but none of them truly reached him. His mind was elsewhere—back at the gala, back to that single, impossible moment two nights ago.
Alexander Blackwell.
Patrick had seen him standing right there, the embodiment of a nightmare. That look in his eyes… it hadn’t been shock or confusion. It had been recognition.
And worse—amusement.
The kind of look a predator gave when it realized the prey hadn’
