"Honestly, he’s surrounded. We have no chance of eting him. Let make a call."
Ronan’s voice was laced with frustration, but he didn’t hesitate, already stepping a few feet away, his phone pressed to his ear.
I stayed where I was, my gaze locked on the towering building before .
It felt... impossible.
For days, I had tracked him, moving east, following the bond that pulled closer. Now that I was here, standing in front of the untouchable glass fortress he lived in, it suddenly felt like I was no closer than when I had started.
How the hell was I supposed to get past security, corporate gates, bodyguards, and whatever other human barriers he had wrapped himself in?
The thought sent a wave of frustration through .
For a wolf, this felt unnatural. I should be hunting him, finding him through scent and instinct. Instead, I was being forced to play by human rules, human restrictions.
It made my skin itch.
---
Ronan returned a few minutes later, his phone tucked back into his jacket pocket.
"So, I’ve made a call," he said simply.
He didn’t elaborate, and I didn’t push.
I trusted him.
Mostly.
---
Two Hours Later
The air in the café was warm, thick with the scent of freshly brewed tea, spices, and hints of old magic. The mont I stepped inside, the tight coil of frustration and restlessness that had been sitting in my chest unraveled slightly.
Witch-run establishnts had a certain calming energy to them, sothing woven into the air itself. Maybe it was the faint traces of enchantnts lingering in the furniture or the protective sigils carved into the wooden counters.
Whatever it was, it was working.
I took a sip of my tea, the herbal warmth soothing my frayed nerves. Across from , Ronan was casually stirring a cup of black coffee, his deanor unreadable.
I was about to ask him who he called earlier, but before I could, the chi of the café door opening made look up.
Two n stepped inside.
I imdiately knew they were wolves.
They didn’t need to announce it.
I could sll it—the scent of pine and rain, of raw energy just barely contained beneath human skin.
The taller one entered first, his movents slow and calculated, as if he was assessing the space before fully stepping in. He was blond, blue-eyed, and almost distractingly handso—the kind of attractive that was ant to disarm people.
The second man followed closely behind. He looked similar—sa sharp features, sa golden hair, but a little younger, a little leaner.
Brothers.
The first one’s gaze swept the room before locking onto and Ronan.
He didn’t hesitate.
He nodded at the owner of the café—a silent acknowledgnt, a subtle sign of respect—before making his way toward our table.Ronan didn’t even flinch.
They sat down across from us without waiting for an invitation and just like that, I knew Ronan’s call had been to them.
I placed my cup down, eting the blue-eyed wolf’s gaze with curiosity.
"I take it you’re here because of Ronan," the blond man said smoothly, his blue eyes locking onto mine with an amused glint.
There was sothing sharp about his gaze, an intelligence that told he already knew more than he was letting on.
"Yes," he continued, a small knowing smile playing at the corner of his lips. "It’s not every day you get the chance to repay a blood debt."
A blood debt?
I turned toward Ronan, arching an eyebrow.He rely shrugged. "It was nothing so dramatic."
"Nonsense," the man countered. "He saved our younger sister from vampire wolf traffickers. I can’t imagine what would have happened to her if he hadn’t stepped in."
I stiffened slightly.Vampire wolf traffickers.
That wasn’t sothing you just casually ntioned over tea.
I looked back at Ronan, but he avoided my gaze, his usual cocky smirk notably absent.There was a story here.One I’d pry out of him later.
Not today.
"Anyway, Len," Ronan said, breaking the tension, "this is Adrian Neta, and that’s Austin, his younger brother."
I took in the two n more carefully.
So these were the Neta brothers—the heirs of the Canadian silvermist pack, also the richest wolves on the planets.
Adrian, the elder, was clearly the leader between them. Everything about him—his calm deanor, sharp eyes, the way he commanded the room without speaking too much—told he had been grood for this role his entire life.
Austin, on the other hand, was more relaxed, leaning back against the booth like he had all the ti in the world. He had the sa golden hair, the sa piercing gaze, but there was an ease to him that Adrian didn’t share.
"The pleasure is mine," Adrian said smoothly, giving a polite nod. "Lenora Maen. Whitestone wolves are so isolated—it’s an honor to et you."
I inclined my head slightly.It was true.
Our pack had a reputation for staying out of politics, staying out of industry, staying out of everything.We didn’t need outsiders. We had our lands, our people, our own traditions.
For generations, we thrived that way.
But the world was changing.
"So," Adrian continued, cutting straight to the point, "what’s so important that you had to call in the favor?"
"Are you in contact with Caron Anderson?" Ronan asked.
Adrian’s expression didn’t change, but I noticed the slight pause before he answered.
"I an, according to articles," Ronan added, "Neta and Anderson have had a few joint projects."
Adrian nodded. "Yes, actually. What’s this about?"
Ronan didn’t hesitate."We need to et him."
Then, without missing a beat, he gestured toward .
"Well, she needs to et him."
Adrian’s gaze flickered toward , curious now.
"And why is that?"
I stayed silent.
Adrian leaned back, considering. "I like Caron," he said after a mont. "He’s one of the few humans I can actually tolerate in the industry."
Austin smirked. "Which is saying a lot."
"He’s also one of the few humans without any connection to those corpses."
Ronan exhaled sharply, shaking his head.
"A human? He’s a wolf."
Adrian frowned slightly. "No, I’m pretty sure I can tell when I’m in the presence of a wolf. And Caron Anderson is human."
Ronan and I exchanged a look.Adrian’s certainty was unnerving.
"You must be wrong," I finally said, my voice firm. "Because he’s my mate."
User Comments
0 comments from readers