A tuxedo clung to his powerful frame, fabric stretched taut across broad shoulders and a chest that hinted at strength no cloth could disguise. My eyes flicked down the length of him: past his flat stomach, tapering hips—before the table obscured the rest. Heat rose in my throat, and I forced myself to look back up, to the piercing blue eyes that betrayed nothing yet suggested everything. Beside him, Beta Li regarded the girl with an unreadable expression. Her features remained impassive, but her eyes—sharp, discerning—seemed to cut straight through the young woman. Zoe didn't notice, or perhaps she dared not notice. Her hands balled into tight fists at her sides, her small act of defiance only underscoring the desperation in her stance.
"And do you stake your reputation by nominating her as a potential?" Li asked, her tone cold, rehearsed.
"I do, Beta Li," the man replied, his voice even, steady, as though the words had been spoken countless times before. The silence that followed pressed down heavily on the room. Zoe remained rooted in place, lips trembling but unparted. She hadn't yet been granted the right to speak, and the weight of it was suffocating. I wanted more time to assess him properly this man who seemed as though he belonged both entirely in this place and entirely above it. But Beta Li gave no such indulgence. Her decision came swiftly.
"Denied," she declared, voice ringing sharp as a blade.
The finality of it struck Zoe like a blow. Her knees buckled beneath her, and she collapsed onto the floor. With shaking hands, she lifted her arms toward the beta in a plea for mercy.
"Please. Please!" she begged, her voice breaking in desperation. But Li's gaze did not soften. That was all. The moment Beta Li repeated her verdict "Denied" a ripple spread through the hall. The other werewolves, who only moments before lounged in their seats with phones half-forgotten in hand, suddenly straightened. Heads lifted. Conversations died mid-breath. An unseen thread had drawn all of them tighter, sharper, their gazes fixed on the drama unraveling before us.
Two enforcers in black materialized from the shadows, their movements swift and merciless. They seized Zoe by the arms, hauling her up from the floor as if she weighed nothing. She struggled, twisting against their iron grips, but her efforts were futile. Their hands were unyielding, their faces impassive, and her desperation only made her seem smaller in their grasp.
"No, Ma'am, please!" she cried, her voice cracking with a raw edge. "I've trained my whole life for this. You don't understand. Give me a chance! I will prove myself to you if it's the last thing I do!" Her words tumbled out in a frantic rush as the guards dragged her toward the door. She kicked and writhed, trying to free herself, but their strength was absolute. The pleading grew shrill, then muffled, as the distance widened. Soon her voice became nothing more than an echo swallowed by the walls. Beta Li remained unmoving, unrelenting. Her gaze was fixed forward, her tone flat, as though Zoe's pleas were not even worthy of acknowledgment. She neither flinched nor turned her head as the girl disappeared from sight. To her, it was finished the moment she had spoken the word. I forced my eyes away from the human's collapse into hopelessness, but when I did, I found myself pinned beneath another gaze. His gaze. The man at the center table hadn't looked away—not once. His eyes were locked on me with a steadiness that unsettled me, a predator's focus dressed in civility.
For the first time, I wondered if all of them were merely wearing masks of humanity, thin disguises that hid their truer, darker nature. In the room around me, the other werewolves watched with eyes alight, a hunger lingering in their stares. His eyes, too, carried that same hunger but it was different, deeper. It wasn't the ravenous craving of the others. It was sharper, more precise, as though he were measuring me, stripping me down layer by layer without ever lifting a finger. Heat crept up my spine, rising from the soles of my feet to the crown of my head, as though his stare alone could set my nerves alight. I shifted my weight uneasily, forcing myself to breathe, to look back without faltering. Who was this man? How long had he been watching me? And why did it feel as though he could see straight through me, into me in a way no one ever had?
I stopped myself short of flinching and met those piercing blue eyes head-on. His gaze didn't waver. He didn't blink. Didn't fidget. He simply looked at me as though he already knew everything there was to know and was only waiting for me to realize it. Past the parts I had shown everyone else past the easy mask and practiced composure. I felt myself unraveling inside, though I would never allow it to show. Now that Zoe Tucker had been forced out of the room, silence seemed to press heavier against me. My gaze should have been free to wander, but I couldn't look away from him.
All but one of the werewolves had let their attention drift. He hadn't. The one in the front row, seated dead center, held me in his line of sight with unyielding focus. His stare burned, sharp and searching, like he had been waiting for me all along.
"Carter." The name slipped into the air, and despite the years since we'd last served side by side, the sound of it carried weight.
"Ward," she answered, her voice as clipped as ever. The atmosphere shifted with their exchange. The energy that had been building moments ago threatened to fade back into boredom, but I could see the temptation in the others to hold unto, lean in,to cling to the tension. They weren't looking at Carter. They were watching him.
Even when he sat there as though he were just another wolf in an ordinary chair, the pack's eyes betrayed the truth. They kept sneaking glances toward him, gauging his every move, the slight tilt of his head, the calm stillness in the way he carried himself. Unless I had missed my mark, which I rarely do, this wasn't just any wolf. This was the pack's alpha.
I stiffened when I heard my name. My stomach lurched. "Ward, Isaac." My turn. I stepped forward, into the soft glow spilling across the ballroom. The hush that followed was absolute. Impossibly quiet. For a heartbeat, I could hear nothing but the hammer of my own pulse. Before I could take another step, she appeared. A woman with a shock of fiery red hair and a smile that glowed far too bright for the room we were in. She looped her arm through mine like we were the closest of friends, dragging me forward into the light as though I might hesitate. Her dark eyes glittered like polished onyx, and despite the smile, there was something viper-like in her presence. The kind of beauty that lured before it struck.
I couldn't bring myself to call her by her first name, no matter how many times she insisted. "Lisa" sounded too soft, too familiar, for what she was. The chatter that had been buzzing around the round tables dulled again as attention snapped back to the front. My cheeks burned under the weight of too many stares. I had done nothing wrong, but the heat of scrutiny still left me feeling exposed, caught in a crime I hadn't committed. I forced myself to stand straighter, my chin lifted, though the urge to glance back at him and see whether his eyes were still on me, gnawed at me like hunger. And if they were, I didn't know whether I could stand it. The sound of my own name felt strange and foreign on my tongue, as if it didn't quite belong to me anymore. I wondered if "Isaac" sounded just as unnatural when others spoke it aloud.
"Don't fuck this up," Carter murmured, her voice sharp beneath the bright smile she wore like a mask. Her expression was flawless, a cheerful façade that didn't reach her eyes. She moved us forward with a dancer's ease, light steps carrying us across the polished floor as though the weight of the moment didn't exist. I tried to match her pace, to mimic her poise, but my body betrayed me. Every muscle was locked tight, every step a reminder that this wasn't some casual stroll, it was judgment. We stopped at the foot of the stage. The silence there was thicker, heavier, as though every breath I took threatened to echo. Carter stood tall, still clutching my arm, forcing me into the center of their collective gaze.
"Lisa Carter, who is it you have brought for the Trials?" Beta Li's voice cut cleanly through the quiet. My chest tightened. This was the moment. The weight of acceptance or rejection hung in the air, pressing down on me until my skin prickled.