Walking back into Knight Industries as a pack member felt like stepping into a completely different world.

My desk looked the same, but everything else had changed. I carried the Shadow Ridge Pack mark now—subtle supernatural signatures that marked me as belonging to Christian’s territory. The problem was, not everyone seemed happy about it.

Sarah from accounting looked up when I passed her cubicle, her nose wrinkling like she’d smelled something rotten. Mike from IT actually turned his back on me when I said good morning.

My wolf whined with confusion. Weren’t we supposed to be a pack now? Weren’t they supposed to accept me?

I settled into my chair with my coffee, trying to ignore the hostile glances. The Blackstone Industries file stared at me from my desk, but I couldn’t focus on competitive analysis when it felt like half the office was plotting against me.

My phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number.

*Heard you joined the pack. Congratulations. - V*

I deleted it immediately, but my hands were shaking.

The break room was where things got really weird. I walked in to grab a fresh coffee, and the conversation died instantly. Rebecca Hayes was there with Thomas Beck and two other wolves I didn’t recognize. They all stared at me like I’d grown a second head.

"Don’t mind us," Rebecca said, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "We were just discussing pack loyalty."

"And what it means to earn your place," Thomas added, his brown eyes cold.

I grabbed my coffee and got out of there fast. My wolf was practically cowering under the weight of their disapproval.

What the hell was happening?

The answer came at lunch when I overheard Elena Reeves talking to Marcus Stone near the elevators.

"—just appeared out of nowhere. No background check, no pack references. Don’t you think that’s suspicious?"

"Alpha’s orders," Marcus replied, but his voice was tight.

"I heard she was kicked out of her last pack for disloyalty," Elena continued. "Maybe even criminal activity."

My blood turned to ice. Criminal activity? I’d never even gotten a speeding ticket.

That’s when I realized what was happening. Someone was spreading rumors about me. Poisoning the pack against me before I’d even had a chance to prove myself.

And I had a pretty good idea who.

My phone rang. Unknown number again.

"Sophie? This is Maria Rodriguez from the cleaning staff. Could we meet for coffee? I have some things I need to tell you."

Maria’s voice was warm, maternal. The first friendly tone I’d heard all day.

"Of course. When?"

"There’s a coffee shop on Fifth Street, outside pack territory. Safer to talk there."

Safer? What did she mean by safer?

I found Maria at a corner table, her brown eyes filled with concern. She looked like everyone’s favorite aunt—soft, caring, and deeply worried about something.

"Thank you for coming," she said, sliding a coffee across the table. "I wasn’t sure you’d trust me."

"Should I?"

"I hope so. Because what I’m about to tell you could save your life."

My wolf went on high alert. "What do you mean?"

Maria glanced around the coffee shop before leaning closer. "You’re not the first lone wolf to be claimed by the Shadow Ridge Pack in the past year."

"Okay?"

"There were three others. All young females. All unclaimed." Maria’s voice dropped to a whisper. "All disappeared within weeks of their ceremonies."

The coffee turned to ash in my mouth. "Disappeared how?"

"Jessica Martinez. Claimed in February. Found dead in her apartment two weeks later. Apparent suicide." Maria’s brown eyes were dark with grief. "Carmen Silva. Claimed in June. Car accident on the highway. Brake failure."

"And the third?"

"Amy Chen. Claimed in August. Just... vanished. Police found her apartment empty, like she’d never existed."

My hands were shaking so badly I could barely hold my coffee cup. "You think someone killed them?"

"I think someone didn’t want them in the pack." Maria’s maternal instincts kicked in as she reached across the table to squeeze my hand. "And I think you’re next."

"Who would—"

"Vanessa Whitmore." Maria’s voice was grim. "She’s been Harold’s choice for Christian’s mate since they were teenagers. She doesn’t tolerate competition."

"But I’m not competing for anything. I just needed pack protection."

"Are you sure about that?" Maria’s brown eyes were knowing. "Because the way Christian looks at you, the way you smell when you’ve been near him... honey, you’re not just any pack member."

She was right. The mate bond was there, growing stronger every day despite my best efforts to ignore it.

"What do I do?"

"Be careful. Don’t go anywhere alone. And don’t trust anyone who isn’t already loyal to you."

We parted ways at the coffee shop, but Maria’s warnings echoed in my head as I drove back to Knight Industries. Three dead wolves. All lone females. All claimed by the pack and then eliminated.

Was I next?

The afternoon was a nightmare of hostile glances and whispered conversations. Every time I walked past a group of pack members, they stopped talking and stared. My wolf was on constant alert, picking up aggressive supernatural energy from wolves who should have been allies.

I tried to focus on the Blackstone analysis, but concentration was impossible when it felt like half the office was plotting against me. The numbers blurred together as paranoia crept in.

Was everyone in on it? Or just the ones Vanessa had gotten to?

At three thirty, I opened my desk drawer to grab a pen and found something that made my blood freeze.

My things had been moved. Slightly, carefully, but moved nonetheless. Someone had been searching through my desk while I was at lunch with Maria.

My computer had been accessed too. The login time showed activity during my absence, and my browser history had been cleared.

Someone was watching me. Investigating me. Trying to find dirt to use against me.

I was rifling through my files when I found it.

Tucked between the pages of the Blackstone Industries report was a slip of expensive stationary. The handwriting was neat, feminine, and absolutely venomous.

*Rejected wolves don’t belong here.*

My wolf snarled silently as I recognized the threat. This wasn’t just workplace harassment—this was a direct assault on my pack status from someone who wanted me gone.

Vanessa. It had to be Vanessa.

I looked up to find ice blue eyes watching me from across the office floor. Vanessa Whitmore was standing by the copy machine, her perfect blonde hair catching the fluorescent lights, her smile sharp as a blade.

She’d been waiting for me to find the note.

Our eyes met across the office, and her smile widened. She knew exactly what I’d discovered, and she wanted me to know she’d put it there.

The message was clear: *I’m watching you, and I’m going to destroy you.*

I glanced around the office, looking for allies, for anyone who might help me. But the pack members who caught my eye quickly looked away. Some with embarrassment, others with open hostility.

The new employees—the ones who hadn’t been here long enough to be completely poisoned—offered sympathetic glances. A few even smiled when they thought no one was looking. But they were too junior, too powerless to help.

I was on my own.

The rest of the afternoon crawled by. Every conversation that stopped when I approached, every hostile glance, every whispered comment about my "suspicious timing" and "convenient arrival" felt like a knife between my shoulder blades.

By five o’clock, I was exhausted. My wolf was strung tight with paranoia and defensive aggression. The threatening note burned in my pocket like a supernatural brand.

I had three options: confront Vanessa directly, seek Christian’s protection, or handle this alone.

Option one would probably get me killed. Option two would make me look weak and potentially drag Christian into pack politics that could destroy his future. Option three...

Option three was looking more appealing by the minute.

As I packed up my things, I caught Vanessa’s reflection on my computer screen. She was still watching me, still smiling that predatory smile that promised pain.

Three lone wolves had been claimed by this pack in the past year.

All three were dead.

I was number four.

But unlike the others, I knew what was coming and why.

The question was: What was I going to do about it?

I stood up from my desk, my vanilla and jasmine scent taking on sharper notes of determination and defiance. My wolf was done cowering. Done being afraid.

If Vanessa Whitmore wanted a war, she was going to get one.

But as I walked toward the elevator, I caught a glimpse of something that made my blood run cold.

Vanessa wasn’t alone anymore. Three other wolves had joined her by the copy machine—all females, all watching me with the same predatory intensity.

The whisper campaign was just the beginning.