The anonymous call had left Ella rattled. She'd spent the rest of the afternoon trying to focus on the Blackwood files, but the stranger's words kept echoing in her head. Some contracts are harder to break than others.
By six PM, the Wolfram Group building had emptied out. The halls that buzzed with activity during the day now felt hollow, filled with the ghost-whispers of air conditioning and distant elevator hums. Ella packed up the crime scene photos, her hands still trembling slightly as she slid them back into the manila folder.
She needed air. Real air, not the recycled stuff that pumped through the building's vents. And she needed to think.
The elevator ride down felt longer than usual. Thirty-eight floors of questions she couldn't answer. Who had called her? How did they know about her contract with Wolfram? And what did they mean about Marcus Blackwood learning something "the hard way"?
The underground parking garage stretched out like a concrete cavern beneath the building. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting everything in harsh white that made shadows look deeper than they should. Ella's heels clicked against the floor as she walked toward her Honda, the sound echoing off concrete walls.
She was fumbling with her keys when she heard it.
Footsteps.
Not the sharp click of business shoes or the squeak of sneakers. Something softer. Deliberate. Like someone trying not to be heard.
Ella paused, key halfway to the lock. The garage was supposed to be secure. Card access only. But the footsteps were getting closer.
She turned around.
Nothing. Just rows of cars under the buzzing lights. Her own heartbeat suddenly seemed too loud.
"Hello?" Her voice bounced off the walls, coming back to her distorted.
Silence.
Then, a laugh. Low and rough, like gravel scraping against stone.
A figure stepped out from behind a black SUV thirty feet away. Male, average height, wearing a dark jacket with the hood pulled up. In the harsh fluorescent light, his face was nothing but shadows.
"Ms. Winters." His voice carried the same cold amusement as the laugh. "Working late?"
"Security will be here any minute." Ella's hand moved to her purse, fishing for her phone.
"No, they won't." He started walking toward her, and there was something wrong with the way he moved. Too smooth. Too fast. Like he was gliding instead of walking. "I made sure we wouldn't be disturbed."
Ella's fingers found her phone. She hit the emergency call button without looking, praying it would connect.
"That won't help you." The man was twenty feet away now. Close enough that she could see his eyes in the shadow of his hood.
They were black. Completely black. No whites, no iris. Just endless dark that seemed to swallow light.
"What do you want?" Ella backed against her car, the metal cold through her blazer.
"You didn't listen to the warning."
The voice from the phone call. This was him. The one who'd told her to drop the Blackwood case.
"I'm just doing my job."
"Your job is going to get you killed." He was ten feet away now, and she could smell something strange coming off him. Metallic. Like old pennies and rust. "Some secrets are worth dying for. Others will kill you just for knowing them."
"Stop right there." Ella held up her hand, as if that would make any difference. "I'll scream."
"Go ahead. No one will hear you."
He was right. The garage was soundproofed, buried deep beneath the building. Her phone showed no signal—whatever he'd done to the security, he'd blocked cell towers too.
Five feet away now. Close enough that she could see his smile.
His teeth were wrong. Too sharp. Too many of them.
"Last chance, Ms. Winters. Walk away from the Blackwood case. Forget what you saw in those photos. Quit your job. Leave the city."
"And if I don't?"
His smile widened. "Then you join Marcus Blackwood in the ground."
He moved.
Not ran. Moved. Like liquid shadow given form, faster than anything human should be able to move. One second he was five feet away, the next he was reaching for her throat with fingers that had grown claws.
Ella threw herself sideways, rolling across the hood of her Honda. His claws scraped against metal, leaving deep gouges in the paint. She hit the ground hard, skinning her knees on concrete.
"Smart girl." His voice came from directly above her. When she looked up, he was standing on the roof of her car, balanced like gravity was just a suggestion. "But not smart enough."
He jumped down, landing silently next to her. This time she couldn't dodge. His hand closed around her throat, lifting her off the ground like she weighed nothing.
His fingers were ice cold. The claws pressed against her skin, just hard enough to draw pinpricks of blood.
"I really hoped you'd be reasonable," he said, and his voice was almost sad. "But they never are."
Black spots danced at the edges of Ella's vision. She clawed at his hand, kicked at his legs, but it was like fighting a statue. He didn't even seem to notice.
Then the lights went out.
Not all of them. Just the ones directly overhead. The garage plunged into pockets of shadow and harsh white light. In the darkness, Ella heard something that made her blood freeze.
A growl.
Low, rumbling, definitely not human.
Her attacker's head snapped up. For the first time since he'd appeared, he looked uncertain.
"Impossible," he whispered.
The growl came again, closer now. Something moved in the shadows between the cars, too large and too fast to track.
"Let her go."
The voice came from everywhere and nowhere. Deep, commanding, with an undertone that vibrated in Ella's chest.
"Wolfram." Her attacker's grip on her throat tightened. "This doesn't concern you."
"Everything that happens to my people concerns me."
A figure stepped out of the shadows behind a concrete pillar. Kaelan Wolfram, still in his charcoal suit, still looking like he'd walked off a magazine cover. But something was different.
His eyes.
They weren't gray anymore. They were gold. Bright, burning gold that seemed to glow in the harsh fluorescent light.
"Your people?" The attacker laughed, but there was nervousness in it now. "She's been working for you for one day."
"Long enough." Kaelan took a step forward, and Ella swore she could feel heat radiating off him. "Let her go, and I might let you leave intact."
"Bold words for someone outnumbered."
"Outnumbered?" Kaelan smiled, and his teeth were definitely sharper than they should have been. "You can't count very well, can you?"
That's when Ella noticed them. Eyes in the darkness. Pairs of gold and silver and green, watching from behind cars and in the spaces between concrete pillars. How many? Six? Eight? More?
They weren't alone.
Her attacker's head turned, scanning the shadows. His grip on Ella's throat loosened slightly.
"This is Pack territory," Kaelan said, his voice carrying an authority that made Ella's bones vibrate. "You know the rules."
"Rules change."
"Not these rules. Not ever."
The standoff stretched for what felt like hours but was probably only seconds. Ella could barely breathe, caught between her attacker's claws and whatever the hell was happening around her.
Then Kaelan moved.
Like her attacker, he didn't run. He flowed. But where the hooded man had moved like liquid shadow, Kaelan moved like lightning given form. One moment he was fifteen feet away, the next he was there, his hand closing around the attacker's wrist.
Ella heard bones crack.
Her attacker screamed and let go, stumbling backward. But Kaelan wasn't done. His free hand shot out, and Ella caught a glimpse of something impossible—claws extending from his fingertips, longer and sharper than any human nails had a right to be.
The claws raked across the hooded man's chest, shredding his jacket and the skin beneath. Black blood splattered against the concrete.
"Leave," Kaelan snarled, and his voice had changed. Deeper now, with an undertone that was definitely not human. "Before I forget my manners."
The attacker pressed a hand to his chest, black blood seeping between his fingers. "This isn't over."
"It is for tonight."
The hooded man looked at Ella one last time, those endless black eyes promising terrible things. Then he turned and ran—if you could call it running. He moved like smoke, flowing between the cars and disappearing into the shadows near the garage entrance.
The silence that followed was deafening.
Ella stood there, her back against her Honda, staring at Kaelan Wolfram. His eyes were still that impossible gold, and she could swear she saw his claws retract into his fingertips like a cat's.
"Are you hurt?" His voice was back to normal now, smooth and controlled.
"I—" Ella's voice came out as a croak. She cleared her throat and tried again. "What the hell was that?"
"That was someone trying to kill you."
"That's not what I meant, and you know it." She gestured at him, at the garage, at the eyes that were slowly disappearing back into the shadows. "What are you?"
Kaelan straightened his tie, smoothing out wrinkles in his suit jacket. When he looked at her again, his eyes were gray. Normal. Human.
Almost.
"That's a complicated question, Ms. Winters."
"Try me."
He studied her for a long moment, as if weighing his options. Finally, he held out his hand. "Come with me. We need to talk."
"Where?"
"Somewhere safe. Somewhere we can't be overheard."
Ella looked around the garage. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead like nothing had happened. But there were claw marks in her car's paint. Black blood on the concrete. And she could still smell that metallic scent in the air.
"What if I say no?"
"Then you go home tonight and pray that thing doesn't come back for you. Because next time, I might not be here to stop it."
Ella's knees felt weak. Her throat ached where the attacker's claws had pressed against her skin. Everything she thought she knew about the world had just shifted, like someone had picked up her reality and shaken it until all the pieces fell in new places.
"Safe house or home," Kaelan said gently. "Your choice."
She looked at her Honda. The claw marks were deep, scoring the metal down to the primer. Whatever had attacked her was strong enough to slice through steel.
"How do I know I can trust you?"
"You don't." Kaelan's smile was almost human. Almost. "But I'm the one who just saved your life. That has to count for something."
Twenty minutes later, Ella found herself in the passenger seat of Kaelan's Mercedes, watching the city lights blur past as they drove through streets she didn't recognize. He hadn't said a word since leaving the garage, and she was starting to wonder if she'd made a terrible mistake.
The safe house turned out to be a penthouse apartment in Pacific Heights. Minimalist furniture, floor-to-ceiling windows, and a view of the bay that probably cost more per month than Ella made in a year.
Kaelan poured himself a scotch from a crystal decanter and offered her one. She shook her head. She needed to think clearly, and alcohol wouldn't help.
"Sit," he said, gesturing to a leather chair that faced the windows.
She remained standing. "Start talking."
"About what, specifically?"
"Don't play games with me. Your eyes. Your claws. The way you moved. What you did to that thing in the garage."
Kaelan took a sip of his scotch and set the glass down on a side table. When he looked at her, his expression was unreadable.
"The world is not what you think it is, Ms. Winters. There are things that live in the shadows. Things that hunt. Things that kill."
"Like that man in the garage?"
"He wasn't a man."
"Then what was he?"
"Does it matter? He wanted you dead. I stopped him. Everything else is just details."
Ella felt her temper flare. "Details? He moved like something out of a nightmare. His eyes were completely black. And you—" She pointed at him. "You had claws. Actual claws growing out of your fingers."
"Yes."
"That's all you're going to say? Yes?"
Kaelan moved to the window, his hands clasped behind his back. The city sprawled out below them, millions of lights twinkling in the darkness.
"What do you want me to say, Ms. Winters? That I'm human? We both know that's not true. That the world makes sense? That there are no monsters hiding in plain sight?" He turned to face her. "You've seen the evidence. The Blackwood case. The claw marks in the wall. You're too smart to pretend this is all some elaborate hoax."
"So what are you?"
"I'm someone who protects what's mine."
"And I'm yours?"
"You signed a contract. In blood."
The reminder hit like a slap. Ella sank into the leather chair, suddenly exhausted. "What have I gotten myself into?"
"Something much larger than you realize." Kaelan moved closer, stopping just within arm's reach. "But you're not alone in this. I won't let anything happen to you."
"Why should I believe that?"
"Because if I wanted you dead, you'd already be dead."
It wasn't exactly comforting, but it was probably true. Whatever Kaelan was, he was powerful enough to tear apart things that could slice through steel.
"The man who attacked me," Ella said. "He knew about the Blackwood case. He wanted me to drop it."
"Yes."
"Was he the one who killed Marcus Blackwood?"
Kaelan's expression darkened. "No. That was something else entirely."
"Something else?" Ella's voice cracked. "How many kinds of monsters are there?"
"More than you want to know."
She stood up, pacing to the window. The bay stretched out like black glass, reflecting the lights of the city. Somewhere out there, things that shouldn't exist were hunting in the shadows. And she was caught in the middle of it.
"I need to know what I'm dealing with," she said without turning around. "If you want me to help you with the Blackwood case, if you want me to honor this contract, then I need to know the truth."
"The truth is dangerous."
"More dangerous than being attacked by something with black eyes and claws?"
When she turned around, Kaelan was standing right behind her. Close enough that she could smell his cologne—cedar and something wild that made her think of deep forests and moonlight.
"Alright," he said quietly. "But once I tell you, there's no going back. No pretending this is all a bad dream. No returning to your old life."
"My old life was drowning in debt while my father died in a hospital bed. I think I can handle a new one."
Kaelan smiled, and for just a moment his teeth looked sharp again. "Very well, Ms. Winters. But you should know—the truth has a way of changing people. Sometimes into something they never expected to become."
He moved away from her, putting distance between them like he was giving her space to run. When he spoke again, his voice was carefully controlled.
"Now," he said, settling into the chair across from hers, "we need to talk about what you just saw."