The forest was thick, alive with the scent of damp earth, pine, and something primal.
Elena stood just beyond the tree line, arms folded, designer boots sinking slightly into the soft ground. This wasn't her world. No walls. No cameras. No guards at the gate. Just wildness stretching in every direction—untamed and unknowable.
Lucien emerged from the trees like he belonged to them.
"Welcome to my territory," he said, lips curled in amusement. "You look... uncomfortable."
She scoffed, brushing a leaf from her sleeve. "This place smells like wet dog and bad decisions."
He grinned. "Careful, Romano. My wolves are listening."
They were.
She could feel them.
Eyes in the trees. Shapes moving silently through shadows. She wasn't afraid—but she was alert. Her hand hovered near the pistol strapped to her thigh beneath her coat. Not that it would do much good against a creature that could shred a man in seconds.
Lucien gestured for her to follow.
They walked deeper into the woods, away from civilization, away from everything Elena knew how to control.
"You live out here?" she asked, eyeing the path.
"I rule out here," he corrected. "There's a difference."
They approached a structure nestled between two massive oaks—a modernized den, built of stone and iron, with sharp lines and no windows. A fortress, hidden in plain sight.
Inside, it was warmer than she expected. Industrial but clean. Weapons lined the walls. A map stretched across one entire surface, marked with clawed notches and blood-colored ink.
"This is where we coordinate patrols, monitor rogue movements," Lucien explained. "Hybrids have been breaching the eastern ridge. We've lost two trackers this week."
Elena approached the map, frowning. "They're spreading faster than we thought."
"They're testing our weaknesses," he said, moving closer. "And right now? You're mine."
She turned sharply, glare lethal. "Excuse me?"
"You're my weakness," he said. "Or at least, that's what they'll think. The mafia princess partnering with the enemy alpha? It's a target on both our backs."
She hated that he was right.
And she hated more how close he was standing.
"So what?" she asked, chin tilted. "We fake smiles and pretend to like each other for the press?"
Lucien's voice dropped. "No. We show them that if they come for one of us, they answer to both."
Elena stared at him.
He meant it.
For a moment, the weight of the war ahead pushed everything else aside—the hate, the history, the fire burning between them. They were leaders. Warriors. Survivors.
But the tension was always there. Silent. Unspoken.
As she turned to leave, Lucien caught her wrist.
"Next time you step into my world, come without the attitude," he said softly. "Or don't come at all."
Elena yanked free. "Next time you invite me, leave the leash at the door."
She walked out of the den, spine straight.
She had seen the wolf's world.
But he hadn't seen her fire yet.