The tension in the air was thick as Elena paced the length of her office. Her hands clenched into fists, frustration rising with each passing moment. The kiss still lingered on her lips, a reminder of everything she didn't want but couldn't escape.
She'd left Lucien in that darkened room, but his presence haunted her every step. His words echoed in her mind, each one a thorn lodged deep. You've already let me in. It wasn't just a warning; it was the truth. She had walked right into his territory, and now, she couldn't find a way out.
The phone on her desk buzzed, snapping her from her thoughts.
"Elena, we've got trouble," Matteo's voice crackled through the speaker.
Her pulse spiked. "What kind of trouble?"
"Wolves," he said, the word heavy with significance. "They've crossed into our territory. It's not just a message this time. They're coming for us."
Her stomach twisted. "Blackthorn?"
"Not just Blackthorn. There's another pack moving in. I don't know who they are yet, but it's bad. They're preparing for a full assault."
She exhaled sharply, trying to keep her voice steady. "Where?"
"Your father's old warehouse on the east side. The one we've been using to stash supplies. It's compromised."
"Get your men out of there," Elena ordered, her mind already calculating their next move. "Secure the perimeter. I'll be there in thirty."
By the time Elena arrived at the warehouse, the night had fallen silent, as if the city itself was holding its breath. The usual hum of activity in the streets had quieted, replaced by a low growl from somewhere in the distance.
She stepped out of the car, eyes scanning the shadows. Matteo's men were already in position, moving swiftly through the darkness. Their movements were calculated, practiced—yet there was an unmistakable unease in the air. Elena felt it too.
"Everything secured?" she asked, her voice low as she approached Matteo.
"Not yet," Matteo replied, his face tight with concern. "There's something wrong, Elena. They've got numbers, and they're not behaving like a typical pack. These wolves… they're more than just a threat. They're a signal."
A signal? Elena frowned, glancing around. "What do you mean?"
"They're organized. They're coordinated. Whoever's pulling the strings here… they're powerful."
A sharp sound broke through the night—the unmistakable crack of a twig snapping underfoot.
Elena's eyes shot to the shadows. The wolves were closing in.
A figure emerged from the darkness, tall and lethal, his eyes gleaming with an unnatural hunger. Lucien Blackthorn stepped into the light, his presence both commanding and dangerous. Behind him, his wolves prowled in silence, their eyes glowing with the same ferocity as their alpha.
"Lucien," Elena said, her voice tight, but there was no mistaking the anger simmering beneath the surface. "What the hell is this?"
He smirked, crossing his arms over his chest. "I told you, Elena. There are lines in this world you don't cross. You crossed one, and now… well, here we are."
"Don't pretend this is just about me," she spat, fury building. "This is your mess, Lucien. You and your wolves started this. Now get your pack out of my territory."
Lucien's smirk faded, replaced by something darker. "Your territory? You think you control what happens here? This city? This war? You're just a girl playing at the big leagues."
Elena's breath caught. She wasn't a girl. Not anymore. And the last thing she was going to do was back down now.
The tension snapped like a string pulled too tight, and the wolves at the gate were no longer just a threat. They were a warning.
The battle had begun.