“Vanessa Ryan.” She extended a hand; her manicured nails painted a deep red that looked almost black in the morning light. “I'm a senior executive at Apex Records.”
I didn't take her hand. Just stood there, my own hands pushed deep into my coat pockets, fingers finding the phone and gripping it.
Vanessa's smile didn't falter. She lowered her hand, reached into her jacket pocket, and produced a business card. Cream-colored, with embossed lettering that caught the light. She held it toward me.
“We've been watching you,” she said, her voice dropping to something more intimate, like we were sharing a secret. “Your voice is remarkable. Truly special.”
The compliment should have felt good, but something about the way she said it, the calculation behind her eyes, made my skin crawl. I took a step back, putting more distance between us.
“Killion Records is wasting you,” Vanessa continued, moving forward to close the gap I'd created. She was taller than me, and in those heels, she loomed, her presence taking up more space than her physical body required. “Small label, limited distribution, Kade's more interested in his artistic integrity than actual success. We can offer you so much more.”
“I'm not interested.” My voice came out smaller than I wanted, barely loud enough to carry over the street noise.
“We can offer double what they're paying you.” She stepped closer again, and now I could smell her perfume, something floral and expensive that made my nose itch. “You will have full creative control, top producers, and a marketing budget that would make Kade Killion weep.”
I shook my head, tried to move around her, but she shifted her position, blocking my path without making it obvious. Someone passing by wouldn't see anything wrong, just two women having a conversation on a public sidewalk. But I felt trapped, cornered, with the building at my back and this predatory woman in front of me.
“You deserve better than being some Alpha's pet project,” Vanessa said, and her voice hardened slightly, the professional veneer cracking to reveal something sharper underneath. “Is that what you are? His latest acquisition? How much is he paying you to sing and smile and look grateful?”
Heat flooded my face. “That's not—I'm not—”
“Of course not.” Her smile was razor thin now, all teeth and no warmth. “You're special. Different. That's what they all say, isn't it? Right before they use you up and move on to the next shiny thing.”
My breathing had gone shallow again, rapid inhales that didn't bring enough oxygen. The street tilted slightly, or maybe I was swaying on my feet; I couldn't tell which. I needed to leave, needed to get away from this woman and her aggressive pitch.
“I have to go,” I managed, trying to step around her again.
Her hand shot out, fingers wrapping around my wrist before I could pull away.
The contact sent electricity through my nervous system, every alarm bell my body possessed suddenly screaming at once. Her grip wasn't tight, wasn't painful, but it was firm, and I was being held against my will by an Alpha... no, not an Alpha, my brain tried to correct, she doesn't smell like an Alpha, but my body didn't care about the distinction.
“Just look at the card,” Vanessa said, trying to press the business card into my palm with her free hand. “Take it, think it over. Call me when you realize what a real opportunity looks like.”
The street was spinning now; the buildings tilting at angles that defied physics. My vision narrowed, dark spots creeping in from the edges, and I could hear my pulse hammering in my ears like a drum, loud and insistent, drowning out everything else.
My pulse raced as my heart thumped through my chest as though it wanted to burst out at any second. Face heated, handsclammy, I couldn't breathe. Couldn't get enough air past the lump in my throat. My free hand went to my chest, pressing against my sternum, trying to remember how lungs were supposed to work.
Bane had grabbed me like this once. His fingers around my arm, yanking me backward when I'd tried to leave the pack house. The memory overlaid the present moment, and suddenly I couldn't tell which was real and which was past.
“Let me go,” I whispered, the words barely audible, more breath than voice.
Vanessa's grip didn't loosen. “Just take the card—”
“Let me go.” Louder now, but still weak, still powerless, still trapped on a public sidewalk where anyone could grab me, where my visibility in that newspaper photo had painted a target on my back.
The morning air that had tasted like freedom minutes ago now felt thick, like trying to inhale water. My vision continued to narrow, tunnel-like, until all I could see was Vanessa's manicured hand on my wrist and the street beneath my feet.
My knees wanted to buckle. I was going to pass out. Or throw up. Or both. And this woman wouldn't let go, wouldn't stop talking, didn't understand that I couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't do anything except stand here trapped while my body remembered every other time someone had held me against my will.
“Please,” I whispered again, hating how broken my voice sounded, hated that after everything I'd survived, I could still be reduced to this by a simple touch.
Chapter Seventeen
Jasmine
The presence materialized at my side as if he'd stepped out of air itself, solid and commanding and suddenly just there. His oak scent hit me before I registered who it was, the familiar smell overlaid with something sharper—anger, tightly controlled but unmistakable.
Kade positioned himself between me and Vanessa with a movement so smooth it seemed choreographed. One moment I was facing her, trapped by her grip and my panic, and the next moment all I could see was the expensive fabric of his suit jacket, the breadth of his shoulders blocking out everything else.
