"Some battles are fought with swords, others with silence. The hardest ones are fought with the heart you keep trying to ignore."
Beta Juno Reyes – POV
If there was one thing I had perfected at BlackThorne Security, it was the art of hiding. Not from danger, we dealt with danger for breakfast, but from feelings. Feelings were messy, unpredictable, and far more dangerous than any rogue pack, dark witch, or council politics. And lately, there was one feeling that had sunk its claws into me with unnerving precision.
Marcus, the Beta of the Northern Shifter Kingdom. Stern, broad-shouldered, sharp-eyed, and far too distracting for my peace of mind. I had not expected to feel anything when he walked into our office last week. I had only expected a professional assessment: who he was, how dangerous he could be, and whether he would glare at me on the floor.
Instead, my wolf had perked up like a traitor, my pulse had gone racing, and I had found myself staring just a moment too long at the cut of his jaw. At the way, his voice held that rough, authoritative weight, as if every word was law. And of course, I did what I always did when life threw something inconvenient at me: shoved it down, locked it tight, and shoved a sarcastic grin over the top.
A flashback still gnawed at me, sharp and uninvited.
"You're staring."
His voice had been low, almost accusing. I had been leaning against the wall, arms folded, watching him with ease, which was anything but easy.
"Please," I shot back with a grin, "if I were staring, you would know it. That was just a professional scan. Occupational hazard."
Marcus's brow lifted, his lips twitching as though he was holding back a retort. "You're bold."
"Bold sells," I replied, tilting my head at him. "Besides, what's the point of being a Beta if you can't scare off enemies and charm allies?"
The corners of his mouth quirked in a way that should not have made my chest tighten. "I'm not an ally."
"Not yet," I countered smoothly. "But do not rule it out. Stranger things have happened."
The air between us had shifted then just a fraction, just enough to make me aware of how close he was, how solid he stood, how my wolf prowled restlessly inside me. He had looked away first, jaw tightening, muttering something about focusing on the mission. And me? I had shelved it. I threw the whole box labeled Marcus Reyes Complication into the darkest corner of my mind and slammed the lid shut.
I rubbed my temple at the memory, groaning aloud in the quiet of my office.
"Don't do this to yourself, Reyes," I muttered. "You've got enough problems without mooning over some royal Beta with a stick up his—"
A knock at my door interrupted the rant. I sat up straighter as Nyra Voss, half-witch, half-shifter, and one hundred percent too observant, stepped in. She had a letter in her hand, sealed with a crest that made my stomach sink before she even spoke.
"This just came through official channels," she said, tossing it onto my desk. "Straight from the Northern Shifter Kingdom."
The crest gleamed at me in rich wax moon and claw, unmistakable. I did not move for a second, just stared at it as though it might combust. Nyra arched a brow.
"Well? Aren't you going to open it?"
I sighed and broke the seal, scanning, and by the time I reached the end, I had to reread it just to make sure I had not misinterpreted it.
"Summoning BlackThorne Security to the Kingdom," I muttered. "Within a week. 'At the request of the council, for increased protection surrounding royal affairs.'"
Nyra whistled low. "That is important. You realize what this means, right? Elias is going to lose his mind."
"No kidding," I groaned, tossing the letter onto the desk. "The man barely tolerates half the jobs we take outside the city. Marching us into the Northern Kingdom is going to put him in cardiac arrest."
"And you," Nyra added slyly, "are going to be in the same walls as a certain someone whose name starts with M and ends with arcus, glaring at you from across the room."
I shot her for a look. "I hate you."
"You love me," she corrected, smirking as she perched on the corner of my desk. "So, what is the plan? Tell Elias and risk him trying to burn the letter with a witch-hex? Or hide it until the last possible moment and enjoy the fireworks later?"
I ran a hand down my face. My wolf stirred uneasily, half-excited, half-terrified. The last thing I needed was to be in the same castle halls as Marcus, breathing the same air, catching that unreadable stare again.
Because this time, I was not sure I would be able to shove it all back into the box.
"Option B," I muttered at last. "Delay the meltdown until we absolutely have to."
Nyra grinned, wicked and delighted. "Oh, this is going to be fun."
For the rest of the day, the letter sat on my desk like an uninvited guest, reminding me of everything I did not want to face. Not just the Kingdom's politics, or the council, or whatever Luna Seraphine was scheming. No, the real problem was simpler, sharper: Marcus.
The letter still burned in my hand long after I had folded it back into its envelope. The Northern Shifter Kingdom. Summoning us. A week.
On the surface, it was phrased politely, all official titles and council seals pressed into wax. But beneath it, I could smell the politics. Nothing about this was just about "security." This was about Elias. And if the Alpha King himself was involved, as I suspected, then BlackThorne Security was about to step straight into the lion's den.
I rubbed the bridge of my nose, trying to force the thoughts of Marcus out of my head. It was not the time to think about his damn sharp jawline or the way his voice had wrapped around me like a low, rich whiskey. Complications were not my thing. But my heart had not read the memo. Shoving the letter into my jacket, I rose from my desk. The others could handle the paperwork, the calls, the panic that would ripple through the office once the news spread. There was only one person who needed to see this before the end of the day.
If anyone could read between the lines of this royal summons, it was Elias. He would either laugh it off, curse the council six ways to hell, or do that broody thing he did, staring out a window like some tragic hero in a painting. I grabbed my keys and headed out, letting the cool night air slap the tension from my shoulders as I climbed onto my bike. The road stretched ahead, dark and windy, leading toward the cabin in the woods where Elias Blackthorne had chosen to hide from the world.