Aaron
I tug my tie loose, slide it off, and let it fall to the floor. My fingers move to the cuffs of my shirt-unbutton, unfold, roll. Turns out, being a hybrid doesn't make you immune to exhaustion. And right now, I'm dead on my feet.
A few twists and stretches later, the familiar pop of joints echoes through the room. I let out a low grunt and finish stripping down, briefs the only thing left on me.
There's a half-full bottle of scotch on the nightstand-one of several I keep around for nights like this. But tonight, even that doesn't appeal. And that says a lot.
Funny how the things that used to help don't even register anymore. Then again, strange isn't exactly new to me.
Take the missing funds, for instance. We still haven't traced the account siphoning money from both the pack treasury and the company. Every day, it's something new-small, easy to miss, but consistent enough to be intentional. Someone's playing the long game. Someone close.
Then there's the girl. Seven years old. Vanished from a mall just beyond our borders. Werewolf. The security footage caught a blurry figure nearby-no scent, no face. No leads. No demands. Just a void.
And then... there's Jannah.
Out of everything spiraling around me, she's the one variable I should've seen coming. But I didn't. Or maybe I did-I just didn't want to admit it.
She came back into my life like a wild fire -quick, wild, and impossible to ignore. All it took was one look, one breath, and every bit of discipline I'd built up started to unravel.
I told myself I left because it was the right thing to do. That keeping my distance would protect her. That a clean break was better. A no-strings-attached one-night stand would've saved me a hell of a lot of trouble.
That's the story I've been selling myself.
The truth? It's messier. I left because I couldn't trust myself.
We were raised with rules-drilled into us since we were kids. Especially by our mother. Paranormals can screw humans, sure. Use them. Walk away. That's the game everyone plays, even if no one says it out loud. But feelings? Attachment? That's where things go south. That's how you get people killed-or worse, cast out.
And for someone like me, teetering on the edge of Alpha? I couldn't afford that. I couldn't afford for anyone to question my control, my judgment, or whether I could lead.
And yet there I was-falling for her. Slowly. Quietly. Completely.
That vacation was supposed to be a breather. One last moment of calm before everything changed. But I spent the whole time drawn into her gravity-watching her laugh like the world hadn't already chosen sides, touching her like the rules didn't exist, needing her like she was mine.
It rattled me.
Not because of her. But because of who I was when I was with her.
If I'd stayed, it would've shown. I wouldn't have been able to hide it. And once the council, the elders, the media got wind of it... it'd be over. For me. For my bloodline. Hybrids can't afford to look weak. And in our world, love-especially with a human-is weakness.
So I left. And I haven't stopped to look back since.
But fate's got a twisted sense of humor. She's back. And I can already feel myself slipping again. The moon goddess must be getting a good laugh out of this-hours tangled in bed with her and I never figured out she worked at Blue Cyber. If that isn't cosmic irony, I don't know what is.
And now Clinton's involved. Like always, I've dragged him into my mess. Shifted the weight from my shoulders to his, like the selfish bastard I am.
I run a hand down my face and sit on the edge of the bed, elbows on my knees, staring at the floor like it might have answers. The house feels too still. Too spotless. Too cold.
I think about calling her. Just to hear her voice. Just to remind myself why I walked away.
But I don't. I never do.
Instead, I lean back, close my eyes, and finally let out the breath I've been holding since I left her.
The abductions. The money. The weight of being next in line. The name that won't let me break.
And Jannah-brilliant, infuriating, human Jannah-who makes it all seem like noise.
Maybe I'll get over her faster than I think. I've never been this clear-headed about a woman before, even one who burned this deep. Doesn't mean she's special. Doesn't mean anything.
And that-that-is the real problem.
The loud buzz of my phone cuts through the room, Luca's name flashing across the screen like a slap of reality. My priorities, screaming at me to get a grip.
I swipe to answer and clear my throat.
"This better be good," I say, straightening up.
"Security cam picked up something. It's grainy, but... there was a bench near where the girl vanished. After she was taken, someone left a book there. Just sitting there like a damn calling card."
Luca sounds spent. Can't blame him-I'm running on fumes too, and it's pushing midnight.
"A book?" I raise a brow and exhale slowly. If this is the only lead we've got, we're in trouble. I've had enemies send us chasing shadows before, just to waste time.
"Yeah. The cover looked old, but the copy was new. Title was The Art of Shadow Play. No fingerprints. No fibers. Forensics says it was wiped clean."
I nod to myself. Not exactly a throwaway clue. "You think it's a message?"
"Or a sick joke. Could go either way. Just... odd," Luca murmurs, yawning.
Even with the silence between us, I can feel how fast both our minds are spinning.
"You gotten a list of who's bought a copy in the past month?" I start pacing, hands on my head, my thoughts running five miles a minute.
"Just started pulling it. Want me to flag anything suspicious?"
"Yeah. Send it my way as soon as you get it."
"Got it."
The line clicks off.
I stand in the middle of the room for a beat, then mutter to myself, "Maybe I need to hit the club this weekend. Get my head straight. Burn off whatever this is."
I'll get a decent night... I'll get laid. And I'll finally stop thinking about Jannah Cole.