Chapter 2
1040 Words
The elevator doors slid open on the forty-second floor of Steele Dynamics Tower, and Emma Rosewood stepped into the marble-clad lobby with her presentation materials clutched against her chest. The weight of a dozen stares hit her immediately—receptionists, security guards, and suited executives all turned toward her with an intensity that made her skin prickle.
What the hell?
She'd given presentations to Fortune 500 companies before, but never had she felt this kind of scrutiny just walking through a lobby. The silence stretched uncomfortably until a blonde receptionist finally blinked and looked away, her face flushed.
"Ms. Rosewood?" A tall Black man in an impeccable charcoal suit approached, his warm brown eyes oddly cautious. "I'm Marcus Cole, Head of Security. Mr. Steele is expecting you."
Emma shook his offered hand, noticing how his grip lingered a moment too long, his nostrils flaring slightly. "Thank you. I apologize if I'm early—traffic was lighter than expected."
"Not at all." Marcus's voice carried a strange undertone, almost like he was holding back words. "Right this way."
As they walked through the executive floor, Emma caught fragments of hushed conversations that died the moment she passed. Her heightened hearing—another recent development she couldn't explain—picked up whispered words that made no sense: "...scent is impossible..." and "...alpha needs to know..."
The dreams had been getting worse lately. Visions of moonlit forests, the taste of wild wind, and always that haunting howl that seemed to call directly to her soul. She'd wake with dirt under her fingernails despite never leaving her apartment, her body aching as if she'd been running for miles.
"The conference room is just ahead," Marcus said, his tone carefully neutral. But Emma caught the way his hand moved to his phone, thumb hovering over what looked like a speed dial.
The massive oak doors bore the Steele Dynamics logo—a stylized wolf's head that seemed to follow her movement. Emma paused, a strange recognition flickering through her mind. She'd seen that symbol before, but where?
"Ms. Rosewood?" Marcus's voice seemed to come from far away.
She blinked, realizing she'd been staring at the logo for several seconds. "Sorry, I... it's beautiful craftsmanship."
Marcus's expression grew even more guarded. "The alpha—I mean, Mr. Steele—will be with you shortly. Can I get you anything? Coffee? Water?"
"Water would be perfect." Emma needed a moment to collect herself. These strange reactions, the way everyone looked at her like they were seeing a ghost—something was definitely off about this place.
Alone in the conference room, Emma set up her laptop and spread out the environmental impact reports for the proposed wind farm. The Olympic Peninsula project would be challenging, but the potential for clean energy was enormous. According to her preliminary surveys, the land was pristine—almost untouched wilderness that would require careful navigation of environmental regulations.
The door opened behind her, and Emma turned with a professional smile that died on her lips.
The man who entered commanded the room simply by existing. Six-foot-four of controlled power, with steel-gray eyes that seemed to look straight through her. Black hair silvered at the temples, a thin scar along his jawline that spoke of violence survived. His charcoal suit was perfectly tailored but couldn't quite contain the predatory grace in his movements.
Alexander Steele.
The air between them crackled with an energy Emma had never experienced. Her carefully prepared greeting evaporated as those piercing eyes locked onto hers. Time seemed suspended, the world narrowing to just this moment, this man, this inexplicable pull that made her want to step closer even as every instinct screamed danger.
"Ms. Rosewood." His voice was whiskey-rough, with an undertone that made her skin flush. "I've been... expecting you."
Emma's heart hammered against her ribs. "Mr. Steele. Thank you for taking the time to meet with me about the wind farm proposal."
He moved closer, and she caught his scent—pine forests, winter storms, and something wild that made her mouth water. Her hands trembled as she reached for her presentation materials.
"Tell me," Lex said, his voice dropping to barely above a whisper, "have you been having dreams lately? Strange ones?"
Emma's blood turned to ice. How could he possibly know about the dreams? "I'm not sure what you mean."
"Dreams of running through forests. Of howling at the moon. Of hunting." His eyes never left hers, and Emma felt pinned like a butterfly under glass. "Dreams that feel more like memories."
"That's..." Emma's voice came out hoarse. "That's impossible. You can't know that."
"Can't I?" Lex stepped closer still, close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from his body. "Tell me, Emma—may I call you Emma?—when did they start? The dreams, the enhanced senses, the feeling that you're becoming something else?"
Emma's laptop slipped from her numb fingers, clattering to the conference table. "How do you know about—"
"Because," Lex's voice turned deadly soft, "you're not entirely human anymore. And you never should have come here."
The room fell silent except for Emma's ragged breathing. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, she could see the Olympic Peninsula in the distance—those pristine forests she planned to survey, now seeming to pulse with hidden significance.
Lex's phone buzzed. He glanced at it, and his expression shifted from intense interest to something that looked remarkably like fear.
"Marcus," he said into the phone without taking his eyes off Emma. "How many of them know she's here?"
Emma couldn't hear the response, but she saw Lex's jaw clench.
"All of them?" His voice carried a note of disbelief. "The entire pack can sense her?"
Pack? Emma's mind reeled. What kind of company was this?
Lex hung up and looked at her with something that might have been pity. "Emma, I need you to listen very carefully. You're in more danger than you can possibly imagine. And I'm afraid..." he paused, steel-gray eyes reflecting something wild and hungry, "I might be the biggest threat of all."
Outside the conference room, Emma could hear movement—footsteps, hushed voices, and underneath it all, a sound that couldn't possibly be real.
Growling.
- Writer
