The Alpha’s Sacred Taboo

Chapter 5: The Witch and the Warning

The digital display on Camille's desk glowed with the incoming call from her father, but her eyes were fixed on the door where Guy had just disappeared. The scent of him—that intoxicating blend of power and forbidden intimacy—was already fading, replaced by the sterile, ionized air of the boardroom. She took a steadying breath, smoothed her crimson skirt, and pressed the speakerphone.

"Father," she said, her voice the perfect pitch of professional concern. "I heard there was an issue at the border."

"An issue is an understatement, Camille," Alpha Marcus Winters’ voice boomed, distorted by the wind of the ridge. "We found a breach in the old limestone tunnels near the Moon Star crossing. It’s professional work—reinforced bracing, scent-masking charms, the works. Someone is running high-grade contraband through our backyard."

Camille felt a cold prickle of sweat between her shoulder blades. She knew exactly who was running those tunnels. Guy’s "underground" was the lifeblood of his influence, moving everything from untraceable data to the kind of synthetic stimulants that kept the elite of the entertainment world humming.

"Do we have a lead on who’s responsible?" she asked, her fingers dancing over her keyboard to pull up the geological maps of the sector.

"Not yet. But I’ve called in a favor. I’ve asked Damon to meet me at the ridge. If anyone knows the rats crawling through the Moon Star border, it’s him. I want you there too, Camille. I need your eyes on the logistics. If this is a rival pack encroachment, we need to adjust the firm’s security protocols immediately."

"I’ll be there in twenty minutes," she promised.

The Violet Eye

As she grabbed her coat, the air in the office shifted. It didn't warm or cool; it simply became... heavy. Tiffany was leaning against the glass wall of the office, her violet eyes tracking a hawk circling the skyscrapers outside.

"You’re walking into a cage, little wolf," the witch said without turning around.

"Not now, Tiff," Camille snapped, shoving her laptop into her bag. "My father is at the border, and he’s summoned Guy. If they start poking around those tunnels, they’ll find the junction that leads to the Moon Star estate."

Tiffany turned, her ancient soul looking out through her youthful, beautiful face. She walked toward Camille, her movements fluid and haunting. "The tunnels aren't the problem. Your father is an Alpha; he smells blood and treason. But he’s blinded by the 'family' tie. He sees Damon as a brother-in-arms, a step-brother-in-law. He doesn't see the predator who has been marking his daughter in the dark."

Tiffany reached out, her fingers hovering just inches from Camille's neck, where a faint, darkening bruise from Guy’s teeth was hidden beneath her collar. "But Amara Jimenez? She doesn't have those blinders. She’s a wine-maker, Camille. She knows how to spot a grape that’s been stepped on."

"What are you saying?"

"I cast the bones this morning," Tiffany whispered, her voice dropping an octave. "The vision was crimson and shadow. You and Guy are dancing on a thread. If you go to that ridge today, you have to be the Boss Lady. Not the lover. If you let even a sliver of Alicia show when you look at Lyle, the Azul heiress will have your head on a silver platter before the moon sets."

The Ritsdge of Secre

The Crimson Lakes ridge was a jagged spine of rock that overlooked the valley. It was the physical manifestation of the pack’s strength—unyielding and dangerous.

When Camille arrived in her sleek black SUV, the scene was already tense. Her father stood with a group of Enforcers, their wolves restless under their skin. Standing ten feet apart from them, looking entirely unbothered, was Guy. He was leaning against a blackened cedar tree, a cigarette he rarely lit dangling from his fingers.

And standing beside him was Amara.

"Camile," Marcus barked, waving her over. "Look at this."

He pointed to a hidden grate tucked behind a cluster of boulders. The metal had been melted—not cut.

"Witchwork," Camille noted, glancing at Guy. His expression was a masterpiece of boredom, but she saw the way his hazel eye narrowed just a fraction. He was calculating.

"It’s sloppy," Guy commented, his voice a low drawl. "My people would have used a silent frequency to pop the lock, Marcus. This looks like some rouge outfit trying to move low-rent spice."

"Or," Amara intervened, her voice like silk over gravel, "it’s a distraction. A way to keep the Alphas looking at the ground while something else moves through the trees."

She turned her gaze toward Camille, her eyes raking over the younger woman’s professional attire. "You’re looking very... refreshed today, Camille. Despite the 'volatility' in the markets."

"I thrive under pressure, Amara," Camille replied, her Boss Lady mask so tight it felt like it might crack. "Unlike some, I don't need a winery to keep my nerves steady."

Guy let out a short, dark chuckle. "Careful, Amara. The girl has teeth."

The "girl." The word stung, but Camille knew it was necessary. To the world, she had to be the niece—the talented, slightly arrogant executive. She looked at Guy, her gaze meeting his mismatched eyes. For a split second, the fated mate bond flared—a violent, golden pull that begged her to cross the distance and claim him in front of everyone.

Lyle growled in the back of Guy’s throat, a sound so faint only a wolf could hear it.

"We'll double the patrols," Marcus decided, oblivious to the war of pheromones happening inches away. "Damon, I want your Moon Star Enforcers on the north side. Camille, you handle the digital surveillance transition. Let’s close this hole."

As the group began to disperse, Guy stepped into Camille's path, ostensibly to let her pass toward her car.

"Watch your step, Chairman," he murmured, his shoulder brushing hers. It was a brief, "accidental" contact, but the heat of it nearly brought Camille to her knees. "The woods are full of traps today."

"I'm not the one who's trapped, Alpha," she whispered back, her eyes flashing green for a heartbeat before she turned away.

As she drove away, she looked in the rear view mirror. Amara was standing exactly where Camile had been, watching the dust from her tires with a look of predatory curiosity. The secret was safe for now, but the tunnels were closing in.