Maya's POV
The pounding on my door came at 7 AM—two hours earlier than Damon had promised.
I jerked awake, my heart racing, disoriented from the three hours of fitful sleep I'd managed.
The pounding came again. Harder. More insistent.
Dr. Reeves. Open the door.
The voice was deep, rough, and carried an edge that made every instinct scream danger.
I stumbled to the door, still in my pajamas, and looked through the peephole.
My breath caught.
The man standing in my hallway was massive—at least six-five, with shoulders that barely fit through the doorframe. Scars crossed his knuckles and traced a line along his jaw. His eyes were pale gray, cold as winter ice, and they stared directly at the peephole like he could see me through it.
I know you're there, doctor. We're wasting time.
I opened the door with shaking hands, keeping the chain lock engaged. Who are you?
Kieran. Damon sent me. He held up his phone, showing a text from Damon's number: My associate. Let him in. Do what he says.
I unlatched the chain.
The moment I did, Kieran walked past me into my apartment like he owned it. He moved with the same predatory grace as Damon, controlled, aware, dangerous.
His pale eyes swept my apartment, cataloging everything in seconds. The ramen cups. The packed boxes. The eviction notice I'd forgotten to throw away.
You look like hell, he said flatly.
It's seven in the morning.
It's training time. We've got seventy-two hours to prepare you for survival. He dropped a thick leather binder on my kitchen table with a heavy thud. Sit down. Pay attention. Your life depends on how well you learn this.
Damon said nine o'clock
Damon isn't here. I am. And I'm telling you we're starting now. His voice left no room for argument. Coffee?
I... yes?
He moved to my kitchen, found my cheap coffee maker, and started brewing like he'd done it a hundred times. Confident. Efficient. Terrifying.
I sat at the table, pulling my robe tighter around myself.
Kieran returned with two cups of black coffee, set one in front of me, and opened the binder.
Inside were photos. Dozens of them. Beautiful people with intense eyes and predatory smiles.
These are the people you'll meet at the Summit, Kieran said. Memorize every face. Every name. Every territorial holding.
I pulled the binder closer, studying the first photo. A handsome man with cold eyes and a smile that looked like a threat.
Alpha Marcus Thornridge, Kieran tapped the photo. Controls the northern territories. He and Damon have history—bad history. If Marcus approaches you, smile politely, say nothing, and don't meet his eyes for more than two seconds.
Why not?
Because he'll take it as a challenge. And you don't want to challenge Marcus.
I stared at him. This is a business summit. Why would eye contact be a challenge?
Different rules apply where you're going. Kieran flipped to the next photo. Beta Caine Ashford. Damon's second-in-command. He's suspicious of you already—thinks Damon's making a mistake bringing an outsider. Don't give him reasons to doubt you.
Second-in-command? I frowned. What is this, the military?
Corporate hierarchy. Alpha, Beta, advisors, enforcers. He said it smoothly, but something in his tone felt rehearsed. Like a lie told so many times it almost sounded true. Pay attention—this woman is Elena Frost. She controls the eastern territories. Neutral party. If things go wrong, she might help. Might. Don't count on it.
My hands tightened around my coffee cup. What do you mean, 'if things go wrong'? This is supposed to be a business summit.
Kieran's pale eyes fixed on me. It's a gathering of the most dangerous people in the northern region. Power struggles. Territory disputes. Old grudges. One wrong move and everything explodes.
Then why is Damon bringing me?
Because he's desperate. And desperate men make risky choices. He closed the binder. Which brings us to the rules. Rule one: never leave Damon's side. Bathroom breaks, fresh air, nothing—you stay with him.
That's insane
Rule two, he continued like I hadn't spoken, don't ask questions in public. Smile, nod, look devoted. Save questions for when you're alone with Damon.
How am I supposed to navigate a situation if I can't ask
Rule three: if someone seems threatening, they definitely are. Trust your instincts. If your gut says run, you run to Damon immediately.
I pushed away from the table, frustration overriding fear. This sounds like a war zone, not a business summit!
It is a war zone, Dr. Reeves. Kieran's expression didn't change. That's exactly what it is. The only difference between this and an actual battlefield is that the weapons are words and politics instead of guns. But people still die.
The casual way he said it people still die, made my blood run cold.
Damon said this job was dangerous. He didn't say deadly.
What's the difference? Kieran stood, towering over me. Dangerous means you might get hurt. Deadly means you might not come back. You signed up for both when you took his money.
My legs felt weak. I sank back into the chair.
I made a mistake.
Yes. You did. No sympathy in his voice. But it's too late to back out now. You signed a binding contract. You took five hundred thousand dollars. You're committed.
What happens if I refuse to go?
Damon sues you for breach of contract. You lose everything, the money, your career, your future. And you still face your board hearing broke and alone. Kieran leaned down, his pale eyes boring into mine. The only way out is through. So stop whining and start learning.
The harshness snapped something in me. I'd survived Richard's betrayal, two weeks of poverty, and the systematic destruction of my career. I wasn't going to let this scarred giant intimidate me.
Fine. I pulled the binder back toward me. Teach me. But I want the truth. What kind of business does Damon actually run?
The kind that keeps monsters in check.
That's not an answer.
It's the only one you're getting today. He refilled his coffee. Start memorizing faces. I'll quiz you in an hour.
For six hours, Kieran drilled me relentlessly.
Names. Faces. Territories. Power structures. Who aligned with who. Who hated who. Where the old grudges ran deepest.
By noon, my head throbbed and I could barely keep the information straight.
Marcus Thornridge, northern territories, enemy, I recited mechanically. Elena Frost, eastern territories, neutral. Caine Ashford, Damon's second, suspicious of outsiders
What's Marcus's weakness? Kieran interrupted.
His... pride? You said he's arrogant
His son. Marcus has a teenage son he's grooming to inherit his territory. Mention the kid, you've got leverage. Threaten the kid, you've signed your death warrant. Kieran made a note. Again. From the top.
We went through the entire binder three more times.
By 2 PM, I was exhausted, starving, and ready to throw the binder at Kieran's scarred face.
Enough, I snapped. I can't absorb anymore. My brain is full.
Your brain better have room for more, because we haven't covered behavior protocols yet. But he closed the binder. Take a break. Eat something. Be ready to continue in thirty minutes.
He walked to my door, then paused. For what it's worth, you're doing better than expected. Most people would've broken down crying by now.
I spent two weeks eating ramen and watching my life fall apart. Your intimidation tactics are amateur hour compared to that.
A slight smile touched his scarred face. Maybe Damon chose better than I thought.
He left, closing the door behind him.
I slumped over the table, my head in my hands. Six hours of training and I felt more confused and terrified than before.
What kind of business summit needed this level of preparation? What kind of people required rules about eye contact and territorial disputes?
I stood to make myself lunch, my body stiff from sitting so long.
That's when I noticed it.
A folder on the floor near the door. Thin, manila, definitely not the binder Kieran had been using.
He must have dropped it when he left.
I picked it up, hesitating. Should I call him? Give it back?
Curiosity won.
I opened it.
Inside were photos of the Summit location. A massive estate surrounded by dense forest. Stone walls. Towering windows. Gothic architecture that looked centuries old.
But it was the surrounding wilderness that made my breath catch. No roads visible. No other buildings. No signs of civilization.
Just forest. Endless, dark, impenetrable forest.
I flipped to the next photo. A closer shot of the estate grounds.
And there, in the background, partially hidden by trees
A wolf.
But not a normal wolf.
This creature was massive—the size of a small horse, with a muscular build that looked more like a bear than a canine. Its fur was dark, its eyes caught the camera flash, glowing with an unnatural golden light.
My hands shook as I flipped to the next photo.
Another wolf. This one lighter colored, equally huge, standing on its hind legs in a way that looked almost... human.
No. That was impossible.
Wolves didn't stand like that. Wolves weren't that size.
I flipped through the remaining photos frantically.
More wolves. Dozens of them. All impossibly large. Some captured mid-run through the forest. Others gathered in groups that looked organized, purposeful.
And in one photo, the last one, I saw something that stopped my heart.
A man stood at the edge of the forest. Tall, dark-haired, unmistakably Damon.
Next to him stood one of the massive wolves.
They were the same height.
The wolf's shoulder came up to Damon's chest.
And they stood together like... like partners. Like the wolf understood him. Like they were communicating.
My medical training kicked in, trying to rationalize what I was seeing.
Photoshop. Camera angles. Perspective tricks.
But I'd worked in an ER for five years. I knew anatomy. I knew animal physiology.
Those creatures in the photos weren't normal wolves.
They weren't normal anything.
My phone buzzed, making me drop the folder.
A text from Kieran: You weren't supposed to see those. Put them back in the envelope and forget what you saw. Some truths are dangerous, doctor.
Ice water flooded my veins.
He knew. He'd left the folder deliberately. Testing me. Seeing how I'd react.
Another text: The Summit starts tomorrow. What you saw in those photos? You'll see in person. Don't scream. Don't run. Don't react. Or you won't survive the first night.
I stared at the photos scattered across my table.
Giant wolves that shouldn't exist.
Damon standing among them like he belonged.
A summit in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by forest filled with impossible creatures.
Don't scream. Don't run. Don't react.
What the hell was waiting for me tomorrow?
And what had I really signed up for?