The Wolf Knows My Name

The Meeting

Ify’s POV

The Remi Foundation office was a sleek glass building in the heart of Broad Street, sandwiched between a bank and a luxury hotel. I arrived at eleven forty-five, fifteen minutes early, because I wanted to scope out the area before walking through those doors.

The street was busy with the usual Lagos noise. Yellow danfo buses weaving through traffic. Hawkers selling phone chargers and plantain chips. Businessmen in sharp suits talking loudly into their phones. I bought a bottle of water from a street vendor and stood across the road, watching the entrance.

A security guard stood at the revolving doors, his uniform crisp and his posture military-straight. He didn't look like the kind of guard you could bribe with a smile and a small note. This was serious security. The kind that carried guns under their jackets.

I was still standing there when a black Range Rover pulled up to the curb. The back door opened, and Chuks Remi stepped out.

He wasn't wearing a suit this time. Just dark jeans and a fitted black shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. It should have made him look less intimidating. It didn't. If anything, the casual clothes highlighted the coiled strength in his body, the way he moved like a predator even in human form.

He paused on the sidewalk and turned his head, scanning the street. His eyes found me across the traffic like I was standing next to him.

Right. Werewolf senses.

I crossed the road, dodging a motorcycle that honked angrily at me. When I reached him, I stopped a careful three feet away.

"You came," he said. His voice was neutral, but something flickered in his eyes. Relief, maybe. Or surprise.

"Did I have a choice?"

"Everyone has choices, Miss Benard. You just made the smart one."

I folded my arms across my chest. "My brother knows something is wrong. If anything happens to him.."

"Nothing will happen to him." Chuks cut me off, his tone leaving no room for doubt. "I've already assigned a protection detail to your apartment. Two of my best men. Your brother won't even know they're there."

I blinked. "You did that without asking me?"

"I did that because I knew you'd spend all night worrying about him instead of worrying about yourself." He gestured toward the building entrance. "Now, shall we? I'd rather not have this conversation on the street."

I followed him inside, my heart pounding with every step. The guard nodded respectfully as we passed, and the revolving doors deposited us into a lobby that smelled of fresh flowers and money. Marble floors. Modern art on the walls. A receptionist who smiled at Chuks like he was the sun.

"Good morning, Mr. Remi. Your office is ready."

"Thank you, Amara." He didn't break stride, leading me past the reception desk to a private elevator. The doors closed, sealing us in together.

The elevator was too small. Or maybe he was too big. Either way, I was acutely aware of every inch of space between us. The scent of sandalwood filled the enclosed space, and I found myself holding my breath without meaning to.

"You can relax," he said, not looking at me. "If I wanted to hurt you, I would have done it already."

"That's not as comforting as you think it is."

The corner of his mouth twitched. Was that almost a smile? "Fair enough."

The elevator opened onto a top-floor hallway with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Lagos skyline. Chuks led me to a corner office that was bigger than my entire apartment. A massive desk dominated one end, but he walked past it to a seating area with leather couches and a glass coffee table.

"Sit," he said. "Please."

I sat. He took the couch opposite me, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. Up close, I could see the faint shadows under his eyes. He looked tired. Not physically, exactly. His body was too powerful for that. But there was a weariness in his expression that I recognized. The look of someone carrying a weight they couldn't put down.

"You have questions," he said. "Ask them."

I had a thousand questions. They had been piling up in my mind for three weeks, each one more terrifying than the last. But only one mattered right now.

"Who wants you dead?"

Chuks held my gaze for a long moment. Then he reached for a tablet on the coffee table and tapped the screen. An image appeared. A man in his sixties, distinguished and grey-haired, wearing a traditional agbada in deep green.

"Chief Marcus Adebayo," Chuks said. "Head of the Adebayo pack. The second most powerful werewolf family in West Africa."

I stared at the image. The man looked like a grandfather. The kind who gave you sweets and asked about your grades. "He sent those men to kill you?"

"He's been trying to destroy the Remi pack for years. The attack in the warehouse was his most direct attempt. If I had died that night, it would have triggered a succession crisis that would have torn my pack apart." His jaw tightened. "And you witnessed his failure."

"So he'd kill me just for seeing it?"

"He'd kill you, your brother, your neighbours, and anyone else who might have heard a rumour of what happened. Marcus Adebayo doesn't leave loose ends." Chuks's eyes darkened. "I learned that lesson the hard way."

Something in his voice made my stomach twist. "What happened?"

He was quiet for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was lower. Rougher. "Two years ago, Adebayo sent people after my father. They didn't succeed in killing him, but they got close. Too close. My mother was in the car with him that day. She didn't survive."

The words hit me like a physical blow. I thought of my own parents. The twisted metal. The shattered glass. The hospital waiting room where a doctor told me I was now responsible for a twelve-year-old boy.

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

Chuks looked at me with something that might have been surprising. "You mean that."

"Of course I mean it. I lost my parents too. Both of them. Car accident."

"When?"