The flight to Los Angeles was a five-hour exercise in controlled panic. With every mile that separated me from the silent, fortified sanctuary of Damien’s estate, the feeling of vulnerability grew. I was no longer the Luna of the Blackwood pack, shielded by an Alpha’s terrifying power. I was just Claire Blackwood, a writer, walking into a corporate battlefield armed with nothing but my words.
Evelyn Reed met me at the entrance to the Laurel Crown Pictures tower. Her face was grim, the usual confidence in her eyes replaced by a tense, worried energy. “Thank you for coming on such short notice,” she said, her voice low as she guided me towards a private elevator. “It’s… chaotic in there.”
“The investors?” I asked, my own voice betraying a tremor I couldn't conceal.
