The NDA
The elevator doors slid open to a reception area so pristine it felt more like a museum than an office. Lana Carter adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder, her new employee badge swinging against her chest. The plastic was still warm from the printer, her unsmiling photo glaring back at her like an imposter.
"Ah, Miss Carter. Right on time."
The woman waiting for her wore a skirt suit sharp enough to draw blood and a smile that didn't reach her eyes. Her nameplate read V. Kraven - Human Resources.
"Come," she said, already turning on her stiletto heels. "We'll begin with your onboarding paperwork."
Lana followed her down a hallway where the glass walls reflected her own nervous gait a hundred times over. The deeper they went into Noctis Industries, the colder the air became, until Lana could see her own breath fogging faintly in front of her.
Ms. Kraven's office was a sterile white cube. She gestured to a chair, then produced a stack of papers thicker than Lana's graduate thesis.
"Standard nondisclosure agreements," she said, sliding the first document across the desk.
Lana picked up the pen provided—heavy, expensive, the kind that made you feel important just by holding it. She flipped to the first signature line.
Then froze.
*Section 12.1: Nocturnal Activities and Related Injuries*
Her thumb brushed the corner of the page. A sharp sting made her jerk her hand back. A bead of blood welled where the paper had sliced her.
"Oh dear," Ms. Kraven said without inflection. She opened a drawer and produced a single bandage, which she placed precisely between them. "Do be careful. Our documents have teeth."
Lana pressed the bandage to her thumb and kept reading. The further she got, the more her pulse pounded in her throat:
*Article 7: Participation in Pack Rituals*
*Addendum B: Scent-Marking Protocol*
*Exhibit D: Bite-Related Medical Waiver*
A drop of her blood smeared across the line where she was to sign away her right to sue if she was "accidentally injured during corporate events."
"Is this some kind of joke?"
Ms. Kraven's smile stretched. "We take our corporate culture very seriously at Noctis."
The pen felt like a live wire in Lana's hand. She thought of her empty bank account, of the eviction notice still taped to her apartment door.
She signed.
The ink shimmered oddly as it dried, like oil on water.
---
Her cubicle was in a bullpen with seven others, all empty. The nameplates bore dates from the past year, but no personal effects remained. Just pristine workstations waiting for occupants who never returned.
Lana set down her bag just as a young man appeared, balancing a cardboard tray with two coffee cups.
"You must be the new girl," he said, setting one cup on her desk. His hands shook slightly. "I'm Jason. The intern. Which means I'm basically everyone's bitch."
Lana took the coffee. "Where is everyone?"
Jason glanced over his shoulder before leaning in. "Gone. Quit. Or... reassigned." He tapped his nose twice—a nervous tic. "Just... don't stay late, okay?"
Before she could ask what he meant, he hurried off, nearly spilling the remaining coffee.
Lana turned to her computer. The login screen displayed the Noctis logo—a stylized 'N' that, if she squinted, looked like fangs.
She typed her credentials.
The system welcomed her with a chime.
Then every screen in the bullpen flickered to life at once, each displaying a single line of text:
*WELCOME TO THE PACK, LANA CARTER*
The words lingered for three pounding heartbeats before the screens reset to normal.
Lana exhaled slowly. A glitch. It had to be.
Her fingers brushed the underside of her desk as she adjusted her chair. The smooth veneer should have been flawless, but beneath her fingertips, she felt grooves—deep, parallel scratches.
Like claw marks.
---
The file room was a windowless cube at the end of a too-long hallway. Lana went there at 4:55 PM, chasing down a client report Ms. Kraven had demanded by end of day.
The door clicked shut behind her with finality.
She found the right cabinet, the right folder. As she pulled it free, a shadow moved in her peripheral vision.
Kieran Noire leaned against the far cabinet, arms crossed over his chest. He hadn't been there a second ago.
"Miss Carter." His voice was a velvet-wrapped blade. "How are you finding your first day?"
Lana's grip tightened on the folder. "Enlightening."
He pushed off the cabinet and stepped closer. The motion was too fluid, too predatory. The air between them thickened with the scent of something darker beneath.
Kieran's gaze dropped to her bandaged thumb. "Papercut?"
Before she could respond, he caught her wrist. His skin was furnace-hot against hers.
"Let me see."
He peeled back the bandage with surprising gentleness. The cut had barely scabbed over.
Kieran's nostrils flared. Then, with deliberate slowness, he brought her finger to his mouth and licked a stripe across the wound.
Lana's breath caught. His tongue was rough. Like a cat's.
"Do you bruise easily, Miss Carter?" he murmured against her skin.
The door opened.
Ms. Kraven stood there, her smile brittle. "Mr. Noire. Your 5 o'clock is waiting."
Kieran released Lana's wrist. His eyes—had the pupils always been that elongated?
"Until tomorrow," he said, and was gone.
---
Back at her desk, Lana found a single black rose lying across her keyboard. The attached card bore three words in elegant script:
*"HE'LL RUIN YOU."*
No signature. Just the faint scent of wolfsbane.
As she reached to move it, her computer screen flickered. A new window opened on its own, displaying a file labeled:
*PROJECT FULL MOON: PHASE ONE INITIATED*
Then the building's fire alarm screamed to life.
The evacuation order blared through the speakers, but Lana didn't move. Because beneath the alarm's wail, she could hear it—
The distant, unmistakable sound of howling.
And it was coming from the executive floor.