Ava Francis stumbled into her dad's house, the small, warm space aglow under soft lamps, cluttered shelves a comforting chaos. Her dark hair was a wild mess from sprinting back to the Grandview Hotel, freckles sharp against flushed skin. Ethan's shirtless grin, Tara's silhouette on those silk sheets—*flirt* had seared her mind, but WolfSnap's violent growls still rattled her core. She kicked off her shoes, drained from the day's endless meeting and the night's whirlwind.
Greg glanced up from the kitchen, stirring a late-night tea. "Back again?" he said, voice warm but weary. "Thought you'd collapse after that hotel dash."
"Had to," Ava said, dropping her bag. "Ethan's a mess—app's worse." Before she could unload, a girl stepped from the hall—mid-20s like Ava, short black hair, a quiet edge. Her eyes were red, like tears had just dried.
"Ava, meet Riley," Greg said, setting the kettle down. "You remember Paul—my garage buddy? Died in that crash last year. Riley's his daughter—all she's got now."
Ava nodded, Paul's booming laugh flickering in her memory. "Hey," she said, softening. "Sorry about… everything."
Riley shrugged, voice low. "Thanks. It's been hard."
Greg handed Riley a mug, then turned to Ava. "She's job-hunting—rough out there. Thought your office might need her. She's sharp with numbers, organized."
Ava rubbed her neck, still buzzing. "Lone Wolf Tech? Could be—Ethan's always adding people. I'll ask tomorrow. What's your thing, Riley?"
"Bookkeeping," Riley said, sipping. "Dad taught me—kept his shop tight."
"Solid," Ava said, yawning. "I'll pitch it tomorrow—see if he bites." Greg raised a brow. "He?"
"Ethan," Ava said, keeping it short. "Night, Dad. Night, Riley—crash here if you need."
In her room, Ava flopped onto her bed, the quilt soft under her aching frame. Ethan's sweaty grin replayed—shirtless, smug, Tara tangled in silk, the gold wallpaper glinting around them. *Flirt—player—nah, they're lovers,* she concluded, staring at the ceiling. The club giggles, Tara's constant hovering, that hotel heat—it wasn't random; it was steady. *They're together, plain as day. I've been chasing shadows—he's Tara's, not some wild card.* She exhaled, mind settling—Ethan and Tara, lovers, end of story. Sleep hit fast, WolfSnap's growls fading to a dull buzz.
Meanwhile, Ethan Nicolas peeled out of the city, tires crunching gravel as he reached Blackwood Forest's edge. The night was dense—trees towered, moon high, tugging his werewolf blood hard. He parked, stepping into the shadows, swapping his blazer for his leather jacket, claws itching. A circle of figures loomed—hooded, yellow eyes glinting—werewolves, his pack. The air thrummed with tension.
Suddenly, WolfSnap erupted from his pocket—a shrill, pulsing wail, sharp and alien, cutting through the growls. The pack flinched, heads snapping toward him, yellow eyes wide with panic.
"What's that noise?" Mara rasped, wiry elder, voice gravelly, fur bristling.
"Ethan, shut it!" Kael barked, hulking brute with scars, claws flexing. "It's loud—too loud!"
"Something's wrong—what's it doing?" another wolf snarled, pacing, ears flat.
Ethan raised a hand, calm, pulling the phone out—its screen glowed, the sound twisting higher. "Relax," he said, voice cool, green eyes glinting. "This is my new app—detects the second soul of the pearies Alien group. We can't spot their first soul—could be in any human form—but this finds the second. Tracks 'em."
The pack stilled, panic shifting to awe. Mara's eyes narrowed, then softened. "Second soul? You built that?"
"Smart as hell," Kael grunted...
Flash back...
To be continued...
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