The sound of gunfire ripped through the underground corridors.
Muffled shouts followed — not the clipped commands of human hitmen, but guttural snarls, sharp and wild.
Elara sat frozen on the bed, the weight of Adrian's last words still heavy in her mind. She told herself to stay put. To listen. To be smart.
Then the first howl shattered the air.
It wasn't human. It wasn't anything she'd ever heard outside of a movie. Low at first, then rising into a sound that made the hairs on her arms stand on end.
She was moving before she realized it, crossing the room to press her ear against the steel door. Another howl, closer now — and a voice, deep and raw with rage. Adrian.
Her pulse thudded in her throat.
Ignoring every warning in her head, she keyed in the code she'd seen him use. The lock clicked open.
The corridor beyond was chaos. Two men — no, wolves — moved in a blur of teeth and claws, their bodies warping between human and beast. Blood slicked the concrete floor.
And at the center of it was Adrian.
Not the man she'd seen in the penthouse. Not the controlled, sharp-dressed boss who walked like he owned the world. This was something else entirely.
His body had shifted — muscles corded beneath skin that bristled with fur, his jaw lengthened into a muzzle lined with razor-sharp teeth. His eyes glowed molten gold, burning with fury.
One of the attackers lunged, jaws snapping for his throat. Adrian caught the wolf mid-air, slamming it into the wall hard enough to crack concrete. His claws tore through its chest in a brutal, efficient motion.
Elara's breath hitched. This wasn't a fight. It was a slaughter.
The second wolf hesitated — just for a heartbeat — and that was enough. Adrian's hand closed around its neck, lifting it clean off the ground. A sickening crunch followed, and the body dropped limply to the floor.
For a moment, silence reigned. Then Adrian turned — and saw her.
Her stomach knotted. She should have run. She should have locked herself back in the room. But she couldn't move. Couldn't look away.
His gaze locked on hers, something primal and possessive burning there. Slowly, impossibly, the beast began to recede. Fur melted into skin, claws into hands, until the man stood before her once more — shirt torn, chest heaving, blood spattered across his skin.
"Elara," he said, his voice low, roughened by the change.
She swallowed hard. "That's what you really are."
"That's what I am," he admitted, stepping toward her.
She backed up instinctively, her shoulders hitting the wall. "You killed them."
"They were here to kill you." His tone was calm, matter-of-fact, as if that explained everything.
Her voice shook. "You… you turned into—"
"A wolf," he finished for her. "An Alpha."
Her mind spun, trying to reconcile the man she'd met with the predator she'd just watched rip through two living creatures like they were nothing.
"I told you not to open the door," he said, closing the space between them until she could feel the heat rolling off him. "You didn't listen."
"I wanted to make sure you were—" She stopped herself, realizing what she'd been about to admit.
"Safe?" His mouth curved, not in amusement, but in something darker. "You were worried about me."
Her heart pounded. She hated how right he was. "You could have been killed."
"Not by them." His gaze held hers, unblinking. "But you? You could have been dead the second you stepped out here."
His hand came up, brushing a strand of hair from her face, his fingers lingering just a moment too long. "Don't do that again."
She should have pulled away. She didn't.
Somewhere behind him, the sound of more footsteps echoed down the hall — lighter, faster. He stepped back, his expression hardening again. "Get back in the room. Now."
This time, she obeyed. But even as the door shut between them, her mind replayed the image of him — not the man, not the wolf, but both. And the terrifying, magnetic truth was this:
She wasn't afraid anymore.