"A word." Again, I thought.

The Alpha command in Harold Knight’s voice turned my legs to concrete. I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, and couldn’t do anything but stand there like a deer caught in headlights.

Around us, the office had gone dead silent. Even the humans could feel the tension crackling in the air. Keyboards stopped clicking. Phones stopped ringing. Every eye in the department was suddenly interested in their computer screens.

"Of course, Mr. Knight," I managed to say, my voice barely above a whisper.

He gestured toward Victoria Blackwood’s corner office with one perfectly manicured hand. "Shall we?"

It wasn’t really a question.

I followed him across the department, my heels clicking on the polished floor like a countdown timer. Harold’s presence filled the space around us, making the air thick and oppressive. My wolf was practically whimpering, every instinct screaming at me to submit, to roll over and show my belly to the dominant predator.

But I’d never been good at following my instincts.

Victoria’s office was all glass and chrome, with a view of the city that probably cost more than my annual salary. Harold closed the door behind us, the soft click echoing like a gunshot in the silence.

"Please, sit." He gestured to the chair across from Victoria’s desk.

I perched on the edge of the seat, my back straight, hands folded in my lap. Harold moved to the window, his reflection ghostlike in the glass as he surveyed his domain.

"Tell me about yourself, Miss Turner."

"I’m sorry?"

"Your background. Your family. Your... affiliations." He turned to face me, those gray eyes boring into mine. "I like to know who’s working in my territory."

Territory. Not company. Territory.

"I grew up in Portland," I said carefully. "Went to college there, worked in marketing for several firms before—"

"Pack affiliations."

The words hit me like a slap. He wasn’t asking about my resume.

"I don’t have any current pack affiliations, I said, which was technically true.

"Ah." His smile was all teeth. "A lone wolf. How... interesting."

He moved closer, circling behind my chair. I could feel his presence like a weight on my shoulders, smell the cedar and steel scent that marked him as Alpha.

"You know, Miss Turner, we run a very particular type of business here. Family business, you might say. We take care of our own."

"That’s... admirable."

"It is, isn’t it?" He was behind me now, his voice right next to my ear. "Of course, that means we’re cautious about whom we let into our family. Very careful about loyalty."

My hands tightened in my lap. "I understand."

"Do you?" He moved around to face me again. "Because I’m getting some very intriguing scents from you, Miss Turner. Very... complicated scents."

Shit. He could smell Christian on me. "I’m not sure what you mean, Mr. Knight."

"Call me Harold." His smile was sharp as a blade. "After all, we’re going to be working very closely together."

The threat in his voice made my wolf cower. This wasn’t just about a job anymore. This was about survival.

"Now then," Harold continued, settling into Victoria’s chair like he owned it. Which, I was starting to realize, he probably did. "Let’s talk about your qualifications. Your real qualifications."

"I have an MBA from—"

"Not those qualifications." He leaned forward, his eyes never leaving mine. "I’m talking about your Wolf qualifications. Your pack training. Your understanding of hierarchy and loyalty and what it means to serve an Alpha."

My mouth went dry. "I don’t—"

"Miss Turner." His voice carried enough Alpha command to make my wolf whimper. "I can smell the lie on you. Don’t insult my intelligence."

I stared at him, trapped between honesty and self-preservation. Around us, the office continued its normal rhythm, but I could feel the weight of Harold’s attention like a physical thing.

"I was raised in a pack," I said finally. "But I left. I don’t have those affiliations anymore."

"Interesting." He leaned back, studying me. "And yet here you are, in my territory, carrying scents that suggest you’ve been very close to my son."

Heat flooded my cheeks. "That’s not—"

"Isn’t it?" His smile was predatory. "Christian has been... distracted lately. Unfocused. And now I find a lone wolf in my territory, carrying his scent like a claiming mark."

"It’s not like that."

"Then what is it like, Miss Turner?"

I opened my mouth to answer, but no words came. What could I say? That I’d met Christian in a bar and spent one night with him? That there was something between us that I didn’t understand? That my wolf recognized him as a mate even though my brain knew it was impossible?