Third Person’s POV


    The theater went ck.


    :


    66


    s


    For a heartbeat, the Grand Hall of the Capital was swallowed in shadow, and every wolf inside felt the sudden prickle of unease. Murmurs rose, sharp and restless, and the dancers on stage froze mid–step, their powerful forms caught in darkness.


    “What’s happening? Why did the lights go out?” someone barked from the crowd. Paned the air, pheromones spiking in a frenzy of rm.


    The backup generators hummed to life, and pale light spilled across the vast interior. A staffer’s voice carried through the amplifiers, shaky but clear:


    “We apologize. There’s been a fault in the equipment tonight, and unfortunately the performance cannot continue.”


    The uproar was immediate.


    “What do you mean, canceled? We came here just for this!”


    “Unbelievable! Don’t you check your systems before a show?”


    Theints mounted, voicesyering like a rising pack howl, until the announcer spoke again–words sharp enough to cut straight through the noise.


    “Aspensation, every ticket will be reimbursed at triple its value. Moreover, anyone holding tonight’s ticket may return for the show at the Grand Theater of the Capital, free of charge, with upgraded seating.”


    The uproar ebbed at once. Surprise flickered, followed swiftly by delight. Three times the


    money,


    and another show for free? The wolves of the Capital loved a bargain as much as blood. The mood shifted, grumbles reced by chatter and grins.


    Under the direction of the staff, the audience filed out in neat, orderly lines, though the lingering musk of disappointment still clung to the air.


    Lana groaned as she trailed beside Freya, her voice dripping with exasperation. “Of all nights, the one time wee<b>, </b>and the tech decides to copse. Do you know how close I was to being picked as the lucky one on stage, Freya? I could have had one of those gods of muscle dripping water right in front of me.”


    <b>10:15 </b>Tue<b>, </b><b>Sep </b><b>16 </b>


    Freya chuckled softly. “Next time, Lana.”


    :


    66


    s


    “Next time,” Lana sighed, her shoulders slumping. “Though fate clearly doesn’t like me very much tonight.”


    They reached the broad archway of the theater’s exit, the cool night air of the Capital rolling in, carrying the scents of stone, steel, and wolf musk. The hour was barely past nine<b>–</b>early, by the rhythms of the city.


    “Ss probably hasn’t arrived yet, right?” Lana asked, pulling her jacket tighter. “Why don’t you call him? If he’s not here, I’ll run you home.”


    Freya opened her mouth to agree, but her gaze snagged on the sleek line of a Maybach parked not far from the entrance. The doors opened, and a tall,manding figure stepped into view, his stride purposeful, his aura unmistakable.


    Her heart stuttered. He had arrived early.


    Ss.


    The Alpha of the Irond Coalition carried himself with that same chill that kept lesser wolves at bay. His broad shoulders cut a severe silhouette against the glow of the streemps, his expression unreadable, his storm–grey eyes fixed on her with an intensity that made her pulse quicken.


    But Freya’s shock deepened when another car door mmed shut behind the Maybach. A second figure emerged from the vehicle parked in its shadow.


    Victor.


    Her breath caught. The timing–was this coincidence? Or something far more dangerous?


    Freya turned instinctively toward Lana, but her friend’s wide–eyed expression mirrored her own disbelief. Both women stood frozen as Ss and Victor advanced toward them, side by side, two predators cutting through the dispersing crowd.


    The air thickened. Other females, still streaming out of the theater, slowed and stared, unable to help themselves. Two males, each breathtaking in his own right–Ss, cold and forbidding, radiating the harsh dominance of an Alpha whose aura warned all to stay back. Victor, in contrast, was elegance forged sharp, a wolf cloaked in discipline and subtle authority.


    Whispers flitted through the crowd. Some females all but trembled, wishing for the courage to approach, to beg for a name<b>, </b>a contact. But Ss’s <b>presence </b>was a wall of iron–one nce, and no one dared trespass.


    <b>10:15 </b><b>Tue</b><b>, </b><b>Sep </b><b>16 </b>


    944


    :


    <b>65 </b>


    <b>+5 </b>Free Coins


    Lana exhaled sharply. “Since Ss is here for you, Freya… I’ll be going.” Her voice was brittle, edged with nerves.


    Freya nced at her, concern stirring. She knew fragments of Lana’s past with Victor. She knew her friend had once cared for him deeply–enough to burn–but had ended things abruptly after a year. When Freya had pressed, Lana had brushed it off with a shrug and augh. “It didn’t work. We weren’t right. Who in this age only loves once, anyway?”


    Since then, Lana had thrown herself into work, into fleeting passions, into the thrill of chasing stars and admiring men without chains. She carried herself as if that past had been nothing but smoke.


    But Freya had noticed. The way Lana carefully avoided his name, the way she steered clear of ces Victor might be, the way her smile thinned whenever someone mentioned him.


    Was she really over him? Or was this just her way of surviving?


    Freya’s question hung silent as Victor’s voice cut through the air, smooth but sharp as a de. “What’s this, Lana? The moment you see me, you turn to flee?”


    His tone carried a sting, and the muscles in his jaw flexed.


    Lanaughed, light and brittle, forcing her spine straight. “Ss came for Freya. Of course I should leave. Unless you’d prefer me to stand here as the unwantedntern between you two?”


    Victor’s lips pressed into a tight line, his gaze shadowed.


    Ss turned his eyes to Freya, ignoring the exchange entirely. His voice was low, imperious. “Let’s <b>go</b>.”


    Freya hesitated, torn, looking at Lana. “Are you sure…?<b>” </b>


    Her friend nodded briskly. “Go. I actually have something to say to Victor. You being here only makes it awkward.”


    Freya caught her arm<b>, </b>whispering, “Truly? You’ll be alright?”


    Lana smirked faintly, though her eyes glittered with a challenge that wasn’t aimed at Freya. “Victor isn’t some beast of the Void. He won’t devour me. Trust me, I want this conversation.”


    With lingering unease, Freya allowed Ss to guide her away. His hand brushed hers, firm, anchoring, and the bond that simmered unspoken between them pulsed hot through her


    veins.


    As they disappeared into the night, Lana pivoted to face Victor fully. Her smile curved sharper


    10:15 Tue<b>, </b><b>Sep </b>16


    <b>65 </b>


    s


    now, tinged with bitterness. “Tell me, Victor… am I imagining things, or did youe here tonight for me?”


    Victor’s silence was damning. His eyes darkened, his lips tightening as he recalled the earlier scene–the business gathering, Ss stepping aside to call Freya, and Lana’s voice carrying far, too far. Herughter, her teasing words about muscled dancers, about near contact, about desire.


    Every syble had hit him like a w to the chest.


    This woman. Always so careless. Always chasing spectacle. Did she truly hunger for any wolf with a body and a grin?


    Jealousy burned him raw, though he wore hisposure like armor. But his silence betrayed what he would not admit.


    <b>10:15 </b><b>Tue</b><b>, </b><b>Sep </b><b>16 </b>