Morning light poured into the Grand Elysium's penthouse suite, washing out the crimson glow from the night before. The black and gold silk sheets lay twisted across the bed, pillows strewn like casualties of Ethan Nicolas and Claire's wild night. Ethan lounged against the headboard, dark hair mussed, green eyes glinting with a lazy thrill, wearing only his black pants. Claire stood by the window, slipping into her dress, blonde hair catching the sunlight, her grin still electric from their latest round. The city sprawled below—alive, unaware of the storm brewing in Ethan's blood.His phone buzzed on the nightstand—WolfSnap's low growl cut through the quiet, sharper than usual, a jagged hum that pricked his senses. Ethan grabbed it, squinting at the screen. A flicker of yellow eyes pulsed, then faded—a perie soul, closer than last night. His jaw tightened; the hunt was tightening its grip. Claire didn't notice, humming as she tied her shoes, lost in her own high."Singapore's gonna be wild," she said, tossing him a flirty wink. "Three times a day, you said?"Ethan forced a smirk, pocketing the phone. "Count on it." His voice stayed smooth, but the growl lingered in his head—pearies Aliens, the king's coma, Mara's warning from Blackwood Forest. Claire was a distraction, a fun one, but the real fight was out there, stalking him.She sauntered over, kissing his cheek quick. "See you at the office Friday—unless we're skipping again?" Her laugh was light, teasing."Nah, get moving," he said, swatting her playfully. "I'll catch up." Claire grabbed her bag and slipped out, the door clicking shut. Ethan exhaled, alone now, the suite's luxury feeling hollow. He stood, pacing to the window, the city's pulse below syncing with his own—fast, unsteady. WolfSnap buzzed again, a low snarl. He ignored it for now, splashing water on his face in the marble bathroom, the cold jolt sharpening his focus. Ava's slap from yesterday stung in his memory—not the pain, but her fire. She's nothing, he told himself, but her face lingered, sharp and unyielding.
---
Across town, Ava Francis slumped at her kitchen table, the small house quiet except for Lily's humming in the next room. Her dark hair hung loose, freckles stark against pale skin, eyes heavy from a restless night. Ethan's words—"prostitute, chasing flesh"—burned like acid, twisting with his smug grin over Leo and Mia's breakup. She'd spent an hour last night helping Mia fix things—Leo saw the fake text was nonsense, and they were shaky but back together. Ava's win felt small against Ethan's poison.
She leaned back, staring at the ceiling, thoughts churning. Ethan's a bad person, no question. Flirting, sleeping around—that's his choice, fine. Let him live how he wants. But wrecking other people's love, stirring up drama, talking down to me just because I'm a girl? That's where he's trash. Her jaw tightened. I could be bad too, if I wanted—my choice. But I won't sink to his level. She sipped her tea, resolve hardening. This job's mine, and I won't let him mess with it. But if he disrespects me again, I'll hit back—hard. He won't see it coming.
---
Morning light spilled into Lone Wolf Tech, the office humming with soft chatter and clicking keyboards. Riley leaned against a desk, talking low with Marcus, her short black hair tucked back, a grin breaking her usual quiet. Marcus, scruffy and relaxed, sipped coffee, tossing out a joke that made Riley laugh. Ethan hadn't shown up yet, and the office felt oddly calm without his usual spark.
Tara strutted over to Ava, who was sorting files at her desk, dark hair pulled into a loose ponytail. Tara's eyes were sharp, her voice edged with impatience. "Ava, you know where Ethan is? He's not here, and Claire's missing too. What's going on?"
Ava glanced up, keeping her face neutral. "No clue, Tara. Maybe they're late—traffic or something." Her tone stayed dry, her mind flicking to Ethan's usual charm, probably dazzling someone somewhere. She shrugged. "They'll show eventually."
Tara huffed, tossing her hair, and stormed back to her desk, muttering. Ava shook her head, diving back into her work. Let them chase him. I've got better things to do.
---
At 11 AM, the office stirred as Ethan Nicolas strolled in, turning heads. He wore a fitted white T-shirt that hugged his frame, fashionable jeans sitting low, and sleek sunglasses perched on his nose. His dark hair was swept back, green eyes hidden but his grin magnetic—jaw-droppingly handsome, every inch the playboy king. Girls at their desks froze, staring; even Tara paused mid-typing, her scowl softening for a second. Ethan didn't linger, striding straight to his cabin, the glass door swinging shut behind him.
Marcus followed a minute later, coffee still in hand, plopping into a chair across from Ethan's desk. "Damn, man, you're killing it today. How was last night?"
Ethan pulled off his sunglasses, green eyes glinting with a smug edge. "Wild, as usual. Had a good time—let's leave it at that." He leaned back, smirking, keeping his night under wraps. "What about you? Keeping up?"
Marcus laughed, shaking his head. "Not at your level, boss. Got any plans tonight?"
"Family stuff," Ethan said, shrugging. "Been dodging my parents too long." His grin faded slightly, mind flicking to Ava's slap yesterday—her fire still stung, though he shoved it down. Just a game.
His phone buzzed, cutting through. He grabbed it—his mom, Linda. Her voice came warm but urgent. "Ethan, honey, there's trouble at the orphanage back in the village. Some kind of infectious disease spreading among the kids. You've got the pull—can you do something?"
Ethan sighed, leaning back, annoyance flickering across his face. "Why should we care about it, Mom? It's just some kids—there's people for that kind of thing."
Linda's tone sharpened, a rare edge. "Ethan Nicolas, those kids have no one. You've got the means—use them. It's not a request."
He rubbed his neck, reluctant, his playboy vibe clashing with her insistence. "Fine, fine," he muttered. "I'll handle it." He hung up, muttering under his breath, then dialed a contact—a doctor he'd met at a conference. "Dr. Patel, Ethan Nicolas. Orphanage in my hometown, kids sick with something. Can you check it out?" His voice was flat, detached, but Patel agreed to send a team. Ethan hung up fast, already done with it.
Marcus raised a brow, catching the tail end. "Orphanage? You going soft?"
Ethan snorted, brushing it off. "Nah, just keeping Mom off my back." But a faint tug lingered—kids, sick, helpless. He shoved it down, focusing on his screen.
---
The day rolled on, Ava and Ethan never crossing paths. She stayed buried in designs, Riley tossing her ideas from the next desk, their rhythm steady. Ethan kept to his cabin, calls and emails piling up, WolfSnap's low growl humming now and then—unnoticed for now, but lurking. Ava caught his silhouette once through the glass, his white T-shirt bright, and felt a flicker of disgust. *Handsome doesn't fix ugly. She turned back to her screen, shoving him out.
By evening, Ethan slipped out early—unusual for him. Business had kept him from his parents' place for days, and Linda's call nudged him home, even if he didn't want to admit it. He pulled into their quiet suburb, the house glowing soft, smelling of warm bread as he stepped inside.
Tom looked up from his armchair, fishing rod in pieces on the coffee table. "Hotshot's back! Thought you forgot us."
Linda rushed from the kitchen, apron dusted with flour, hugging him tight. "My handsome boy—sit, eat!" She dragged him to the table, piling his plate with roast and potatoes. Ethan grinned, sinking into the chair, the chaos of Lone Wolf Tech and Blackwood Forest fading for a moment.
They talked—light, easy. Tom rambled about a new lake he'd found for fishing; Linda teased Ethan about eating enough. Then her face grew serious, mid-bite. "Ethan, those kids at the orphanage—they need more than doctors. We should visit, see what else they need. Take someone from your company too—they could use extra hands now."
Ethan's fork paused, his eyes rolling slightly. "Mom, come on. I already called the doctor. Isn't that enough?"
Linda leaned forward, voice firm. "It's not. Those kids are scared, Ethan. You show up, bring someone—it'll mean something. Do it."
He sighed, reluctant, but her stare didn't budge. "Alright, fine," he said, voice grudging. "I'll go tomorrow, bring someone." Her words stuck, though—the village, the kids, a weight he couldn't fully shake.
After dinner, he stepped onto the porch, dialing Marcus. "Hey, I'm heading to the village tomorrow, 6 AM—orphanage thing. Come with?"
Marcus groaned through the phone. "Can't, man—big investor meeting at 8. You know how it is. Take Claire—she'd love it."
Ethan laughed, short and sharp. "Gave her two days off. She's probably out shopping or something."
"Fair," Marcus said, chuckling. "What about Tara? She's always up for a trip."
Ethan snorted. "Tara? Nah, too much drama for a long drive. You know how she gets."
Marcus laughed, but pressed, "Your mom's there with you, right? Then what's the problem with Tara?"
Ethan grinned, voice dropping low. "That's the problem. If Mom wasn't there, it might be fun." They both chuckled, the jab landing easy.
"Then Ava," Ethan said, voice shifting, a glint of something colder in it. "She's good at her work—sharp, gets it done. Plus, I can show her what a real boss-employee setup looks like." His grin curled, Ava's slap flashing in his mind—not revenge, but a chance to flex his control.
He hung up and dialed Ava. She picked up after three rings, her voice flat. "What's up?"
"Need you for a trip," Ethan said, tone brisk. "Two days, village outside the city—business stuff. Be ready by 6 AM."
Ava hesitated, her gut twisting, Ethan's flirty smirks and slick charm flashing in her mind, making her wary of a trip alone with him. "I can't stay away from home at night," she said, reluctant, picturing his wandering eyes and smooth talk.
Ethan caught the edge in her voice, his tone softening just a fraction. "Relax, Ava—my mother's coming along on this trip. It's not what you're thinking."
Ava's shoulders eased slightly, the presence of his mom dulling her worry, but she still wanted out. "I'd rather not, Ethan. It's short notice, and I've got things here."
Ethan's voice hardened, no trace of his usual charm. "Ava, this isn't a government job—you don't get to pick and choose. It's a private firm. Do the work, or resign and leave. Your call." His words were serious, cutting like steel.
Ava gripped the phone, Ethan's tone reigniting her anger—disrespect, again, cloaked in authority. Her instinct was to snap back, but the job flashed in her mind—Riley's paycheck, her own bills, Greg's pride in her. She swallowed hard. "Okay, sir. I'll come."
"Good," Ethan said, hanging up fast. He leaned against the porch railing, green eyes glinting in the dark. Let's see how she plays this.
Ava set her phone down, hands shaking—not fear, but fury. He thinks he owns me. She thought of the village trip, his smug control, and clenched her fists. I'll do the job—better than he expects. But if he crosses me again, he's done. Her resolve burned bright, a promise to herself.
Suddenly, both their phones erupted—Ethan's on the porch, Ava's on her table—WolfSnap's growls surging into a wild, frenzied howl, vibrating so fiercely the devices rattled against the wood. The screens flared, yellow eyes pulsing like heartbeats, then—crack—both phones burst in a shower of sparks and shattered glass, plastic shards flying as the air filled with a sharp, acrid burn. The howling cut off, leaving only silence and the faint smell of scorched metal.
To be continued