Hundreds of guests already mingled—society's elite in gorgeous gowns and priceless jewelry, engaged in elegant discourse. This was high society's theater, and I was among its principal players.
Kayden Blackwood. Sole Alpha of Silver Moon Pack. Commander of the vast Blackwood empire.
I appeared to have everything—power, wealth, status, respect. Yet inside, I'd always been hollow.
"Alpha, we should go down," Evan prompted.
"Right." I turned to leave.
Then my wolf suddenly erupted.
Not ordinary restlessness—violent, nearly uncontrollable agitation. It roared inside me, clawed frantically, desperate to break free.
What the hell—?
I frowned, exerting willpower to suppress it. But it grew wilder, growling savagely in my mind.
Evan noticed my disturbance. "Are you all right?"
"Fine," I said, though my voice was strained.
My wolf had never lost control like this—not since seven years ago, that night by the lake, when I first caught Layla's scent...
Impossible.
I shook my head, banishing that absurd notion.
"Let's go," I said.
Evan and I left the VIP room, descended to the banquet hall.
Music swelled, conversation hummed, glasses clinked. Countless eyes turned toward me—respectful, ingratiating, calculating.
I smiled mechanically, exchanged pleasantries with various luminaries.
"Mr. Blackwood, such a pleasure..."
"Regarding that venture..."
"Alpha, our family hopes to discuss..."
My responses flowed smoothly—standard, appropriate, flawless. Years had honed this social performance to perfection.
But my wolf kept stirring.
Urging me. Calling me. Guiding me toward some unseen direction.
I tried impatiently to suppress it. Something was wrong tonight—it was especially unruly.
Then I caught it.
Not saw her—smelled her.
That scent: rose, honey, and something deeper, uniquely hers. Achingly sweet.
Impossible.
This couldn't be—
