The campus pub, "The Quill," was loud, warm, and smelled pleasantly of beer and popcorn. It was exactly the kind of place Kael would never set foot in—and that fact alone made Anya feel light and genuinely happy.
She sat across from Lucas in a cozy corner booth. He was attentive, funny, and knew how to navigate a conversation, skillfully steering clear of the dramatic corporate world she had mentioned only in vague terms. They were discussing classic films and obscure bands, and for the first time in what felt like a lifetime, Anya wasn't thinking about hidden dens, ancient charters, or the glacial blue eyes of her mate.
"Okay, wait, you're telling me you prefer The Godfather Part III?" Lucas challenged, feigning shock, leaning his elbows on the wooden table.
Anya laughed, leaning forward. "No, I said I don't think it deserves the universal hatred it gets! It's flawed, yes, but the opera sequence is beautiful. It's a tragic study of a man trying to buy back his soul—something I can relate to," she joked, masking the painful truth beneath the surface.
"A tragic study, huh?" Lucas smiled, his eyes holding hers. He had a way of looking directly at her that felt honest and disarming. "Well, I think anyone who manages King's Corporation and still passes Reynolds' class is probably already in a tragic study of modern capitalism."
Anya smiled, appreciating the lightness. Lucas was easy to be around. He wasn't fueled by rage or the weight of a Pack. He was just a guy. She found herself showing him the greenlight, responding easily to his compliments and the genuine enjoyment of his company. She felt a connection, a possibility, outside of the confines of her fated life.
She brought up her mother. "I haven't been back to class much since the start of the semester. My mom… she died a few months ago. It's been a rough time, and honestly, the King's job was my way of trying to cut ties with my father. I wanted to be totally independent."
Lucas reached across the table and briefly squeezed her hand. "I'm genuinely sorry, Anya. Losing family is the hardest thing. And hey, I can tell you're independent. You don't need anyone backing you up. That's rare."
They talked about the tension between Malik and Kael that Betty had mentioned, laughing off the absurdity of a powerful corporate CEO (Kael) being called a "werewolf" on local television by his rival (Malik).
"Honestly, Malik must be losing it, right? Talking about werewolves," Lucas scoffed.
Anya forced a chuckle. "My father is very dramatic when he feels wronged. He and Kael have been rivals since they were young, apparently. Just corporate sabotage, Lucas. Nothing to worry about."
Anya felt a deep, warm contentment settle over her. She realized she hadn't felt this normal since before the rebellion. She had forgotten what it was like to feel seen simply as a woman, not a werewolf or a political chip.
The Alpha's Shadow
Just as Lucas was smoothly ordering another round of drinks and asking about her favorite type of music, Anya's stomach dropped into a sickening pit of dread.
Her eyes, sharpened by her werewolf senses, had caught a flicker of movement through the pub's large front window. A sleek, black Mercedes-Maybach S 580—Kael's exact model—had pulled over to the curb, its tinted windows offering no glimpse of the driver.
Anya's breath hitched. Kael. The mate bond, which had been blissfully silent during her date, suddenly flared to life, a low, demanding thrum in her soul.
Her eyes widened in terror. Kael was violating his own banishment order. Was he here to reclaim her? To punish her for daring to pursue a normal life?
Her head started to shake, a tiny, involuntary tremor of panic.
Before Kael's door could open, the driver's side popped open, and Eamon stepped out. He was dressed in casual, expensive slacks and a dark jacket, but his posture was all Pack business—rigid, alert, and carrying the unmistakable scent of the Hearthlands.
Eamon's eyes, trained for threat detection, instantly found Anya in the dimly lit corner of the pub. He looked directly at her, his expression utterly serious, and gave her a sharp, minimal nod—a silent command.
The internal battle was immediate and brutal. Anya was safe, happy, and free. But the Pack was calling. Kael was in crisis.
"Anya? What is it? You look like you've seen a ghost," Lucas asked, following her rigid gaze toward the window.
"I—I'm so sorry," Anya stammered, scrambling to her feet, knocking her chair slightly askew. "I have to go. It's work. Something serious has happened. I apologize, I need to leave right now."
Lucas stood, concern quickly replaced by a subtle calculation in his eyes. He looked out the window at the imposing figure of Eamon waiting by the expensive car. "That's... quite the pickup service. Is everything okay?"
"It will be," Anya said, grabbing her purse. She offered Lucas a tight, desperate smile. "I promise I'll text you."
She rushed out of the pub, feeling the weight of the Alpha world crashing down on her borrowed normalcy.
The Beta's Plea
Anya met Eamon on the sidewalk, the loud, boisterous energy of the campus pub contrasting sharply with the cold silence of the car.
"Eamon, what are you doing here? Kael told me I was excused. I was banned from work for the rest of the week!" Anya hissed, her voice low and furious.
Eamon's face was etched with genuine fatigue and worry. "I know, Anya. And I disobeyed a direct order to find you. Kael won't speak to you right now, but I had to intervene."
"Intervene? He saw me here, didn't he? Is that why you're here? To drag me back?" Anya demanded, her earlier panic turning to defensive rage. She shook her head in angry disbelief, agreeing silently with Betty's earlier assessment that Kael was cruel.
"No, he didn't see you, and no, I didn't come to drag you. I came to beg you," Eamon said, the word beg stunning Anya into silence. "Anya, the ambush started hours ago. Malik struck the industrial zone with mercenaries, and we suffered casualties. Kael enforced the Code—No Killing Humans—and we took the losses. He had to stand down."
Anya's hands flew to her mouth, stifling a gasp of horror. "Casualties? Who?"
"Silas is critical. Two others are down. The Pack is safe, but the mood is toxic. The Elders are questioning Kael's leadership, and he is losing control." Eamon ran a hand through his hair. "The fight today... it broke him. He's drowning in guilt and rage, and he's externalizing all of it by driving himself, and us, insane."
Anya started shaking her head, the realization of Kael's instability dawning on her. She agreed with Eamon's assessment, confirming his words with the silent nods of her head.
"He needs you, Anya," Eamon urged, his voice heavy with the responsibility of his Beta role. "He doesn't realize it, and he'll hate you for it, but the mate bond is the only thing that can steady him right now. He's going to make a devastating mistake if he stays isolated."
"He hates me, Eamon! He swore he would destroy me if I revealed the mate bond! He's punishing me for his own weakness!" Anya protested, still shaking her head vehemently in denial of Kael's cruelty.
"I know! And he will be cruel again! But the Pack comes first. He needs to see you, even if it's just for ten seconds. He needs to feel the bond and calm the wolf before he detonates. Please, Anya. Come back to the Packhouse tonight."
Anya looked past Eamon toward the distant lights of Sterling City. She had been on a date, trying to reclaim her life, but the Pack had bled, and Kael was imploding. Her duty to the Pack—the duty her mother died for—was absolute.
She took a deep breath. "Fine. Let's go."
Eamon let out a profound sigh of relief. "Thank you, Anya. I owe you everything."
Anya didn't reply, climbing into the silent back seat of the car. Her brief, beautiful evening of normalcy was over.
Lucas Reports In
Inside the pub, Lucas retrieved his phone from his jacket pocket and watched the black Mercedes pull away from the curb, his casual smile having evaporated completely. He watched as the imposing man who had collected Anya put his hand on her back before she disappeared into the tinted windows.
Lucas was no student. He was Malik's operative, tasked with keeping tabs on Kael's corporate activities and, more recently, shadowing his estranged daughter, Anya.
He tapped a contact on his phone, his voice dropping to a smooth, cold register that was all business.
"It's Lucas. Target acquisition is clean."
A clipped voice answered on the other end. "Report."
"They came to meet her today, at the campus pub," Lucas said, staring at the empty curb. "A tall guy, mid-twenties, very expensive car. He looked like security, or maybe a lawyer. They were talking for a while."
"Did she give him anything?"
"No documents. But she was visibly terrified when he approached. She kept shaking her head in agreement," Lucas reported, misinterpreting Anya's distress and denial over Kael's cruelty as coercion. "She was agreeing to something under duress. They look like they're threatening her or pulling her into something high-stakes. She went with him willingly in the end. They're driving toward the Hearthlands now."
"Good. Keep your distance and maintain cover. Let the Alpha take the bait. We'll use this as confirmation that she is still deeply tied to the organization."
"Will do. Of course, she doesn't suspect anything," Lucas confirmed, ending the call. He sat back down, picking up his glass, his expression calculating. He had secured his first piece of solid evidence, and he hadn't even had to buy Anya a second drink. The game was on.