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956 Words
And it sure as hell doesn't change the fact that when it mattered most—
He chose them over me.
Zara's apartment is controlled chaos—papers scattered across the coffee table, sticky notes clinging to the walls, and a corkboard covered in hastily scribbled connections. The scent of coffee and printer ink lingers in the air, mixing with her faint vanilla lotion as she sits on the couch. Her laptop is balanced on one knee with her long, brown braids falling over her shoulder as she types. She's been in this exact position for hours, eyes flicking between screens, a predator tracking a lead.
"You're gonna love this," she says, eyes locked on the screen.
I arch a brow. "That usually means I'm about to hate it."
She grins, spinning the laptop toward me. "Meet Velcrest Holdings—one of your project's biggest investors."
I scan the highlighted sections, my stomach tightening. "Never heard of them."
"Exactly." She tosses a highlighter onto the table. "They don't exist—at least, not in any real capacity. It's a shell company. Took me hours to peel back the layers, and whoever's behind it? They're making damn sure they stay hidden."
I exhale, fingers tightening around my knee. "So who the hell are they?"
Zara shakes her head, irritation flickering in her dark eyes. "No clue yet, but I'll get there."
I lean back, rubbing a hand over my face. "And Cassian?"
She shrugs. "His name's on the list, but you knew that. Whatever he's up to, he's not the only one."
I press my lips together, the unease curling in my gut sharpening. Cassian had said he invested to keep an eye on me—but someone else was funneling money into my project, staying in the shadows.
"How the hell did you even get this?" I murmur.
Zara smirks, stretching her arms above her head. "I have connections, remember?" She winks. "Some high. Some low. Some who just like to talk when you put the right drink in their hand."
Of course, she does. For a human, Zara surprised me with just how far her network and connections ran, even extending into the werewolf society.
"So, looks like we have a lot of investigating to do." She claps and rubs her hands together.
I whip my head to stare at her. "We?"
She scoffs, setting her laptop aside and reaching for her now-cold coffee. "Oh, please. You didn't think I was going to sit this one out, did you?" She takes a sip, grimaces, and mutters, "Disgusting."
A breathy laugh escapes me before I can stop it. "Then why do you keep drinking it?"
Zara shrugs, swirling the cup lazily. "Same reason you keep pretending you don't care about Adrian, I guess. Bad habits are hard to break."
Seriously? She just has to go there?
I scowl. "That is not remotely the same thing."
She lifts a brow. "No? Because you looked pretty affected the last time his name came up."
I open my mouth to argue, but my mind betrays me before I can even form the words. Adrian—his touch, his voice, the way his gaze lingered like he was seeing something he didn't want to admit to himself. My pulse stutters, and I shove the thought away with more force than necessary.
Zara watches me like a wolf waiting for the perfect moment to strike, which is ironic because I'm the wolf here.
I roll my eyes. "Can we focus on the mystery shell company instead of my personal life?"
"Fine, fine." She sets the coffee down, stretching her legs across the couch before nudging my knee with her foot. "So, are we doing this or what?"
I meet her gaze, steady now.
I nod.
Her grin is all teeth as she cracks her knuckles. "Good. Because I've got a lot more digging to do."
CHAPTER 6
ADRIAN
E
lara's presence is becoming impossible to ignore, no matter how much I tell myself otherwise.
The council's hall is packed, tension weaving through the air like a storm waiting to break. The towering stone pillars cast long shadows under the dim torchlight, the scent of burning sage and aged parchment thick in the space. The murmurs of gathered wolves ripple through the chamber, low and hushed, each voice threaded with anticipation.
This isn't just another council meeting.
This is a tribunal.
Decisions are being made tonight—judgments on rogue activity, territory disputes, and, most importantly, the growing unrest that has been simmering beneath the surface of our world. There have been whispers of rebellion, of alliances forming in the dark. The Council is here to reassert control, to remind every pack where their loyalties should lie.
And she's here.
From my position in the shadowed corner, I watch as she moves through the crowd with Cassian close at her side. Her posture is straight and controlled, but I see the sharp attentiveness in her gaze, the way her head tilts slightly toward him as he speaks. Even from here, I can tell she's absorbing every word, calculating.
My wolf stirs beneath my skin, restless and irritated, muscles coiling with instinct. I force my jaw to stay locked, fists clenching at my sides. I tell myself it's the situation, that it's them—Cassian and his ever-present defiance, his habit of showing up in places where his presence is a challenge.
But my eyes keep dragging back to her.
To the way the flickering torchlight catches the angles of her face. To the way she moves—graceful but purposeful, every step measured.
To the fact that yet again, she shouldn't be standing in the middle of this.
And yet, she is.
- Writer
