And it didn’t explain the itch under my skin.
Where was she?
Everything I knew about her said she hadn’t vanished. She didn’t. It just wasn’t who she was. Others might go for duck and cover when the shit hit the fans, not Wren. She orchestrated. She directed. She held the team like string between her fingers and made us all dance whether we knew it or not.
But right now?
She wasgone.
And I didn’t like it.
Not the silence.
Not the space she left behind.
Not the scent trail so faint it barely clung to the corners of the hallway.
I caught it near the PR office. Not the clean, crisp notes I was used to—but something older, deeper. Like ozone before lightning. Like leather in heat.
I paused. Breath stilled. That was the thing, wasn’t it?
I wasn’t an alpha. Never had been. I didn’t ride the highs of instinct, didn’t lose control in scent-drunk spirals or rage spirals or rut. My head was always clear. Always focused.
Except now itwasn’t.
There was something different in her scent.
Subtle.
Wrong.
Or… maybe too right.
My hand brushed the edge of the office door. Locked. Empty. But her scent had beenhere, curling like smoke around the furniture, warming the air in a way I hadn’t noticed before.
My pulse ticked up.
Annoying.
Unnecessary.
But not unfamiliar.
Because at the end of the day?
I fuckinglikedWren. Not just respected. Not just wanted to protect. I likedher.
Liked the way she knew how to say no without ever saying the word. Liked that she was smarter than half the coaching staff combined. Liked the way she dressed like she could gut you with her heels and make you thank her for it.
So, yeah, I wanted to be her friend.
If she’d let me.
But lately…
Lately, something dark and feral had been whispering in the back of my skull. Quiet. Steady. Insistent.
Not justbe near her.
