Chapter 3 - The Wolves of Emerald City
Helga stood wrapped in a dry cashmere blanket that Alaric had produced from the back of his waiting town car. After a hurried packing of her essentials—driven by the sheer impossibility of remaining in an apartment tainted by Lincoln's memory—she had found herself sitting in the plush leather backseat of an armored Maybach, gliding silently through the rain-slicked streets of Seattle.
Beside her, Alaric Crawford sat in silence, scrolling through an encrypted tablet with ruthless efficiency. His presence in the enclosed vehicle was suffocating, yet oddly reassuring. Whenever she looked at him, she caught the subtle, unnatural grace of his movements. He didn't shift or fidget like ordinary people; he sat with the coiled stillness of a predator waiting in the dark.
""Where are you taking me?"" Helga finally asked, breaking the hum of the tires against the wet pavement. ""You threatened my ex-boyfriend with financial ruin, intimidated his mistress, and now you’re chauffeuring me through downtown. People don't just do that out of charity, Mr. Crawford.""
Alaric set the tablet face down on his lap and turned to face her. In the passing glow of the neon city lights, his gray eyes held that strange, amber shimmer again.
""I am not a charitable man, Helga,"" he said evenly. ""And you are not merely a woman who texted the wrong number. You tapped into an unlisted, military-grade satellite frequency that only three people in this hemisphere possess. When you pressed send, you didn't just bypass security protocols—you triggered a resonance that I felt thirty miles away.""
Helga let out a breathless, nervous laugh. ""What are you talking about? A resonance? It was a typo! I hit an eight instead of a nine!""
""There are no typos in fate,"" a voice spoke from the front passenger seat.
Helga startled as the man sitting beside the driver turned around. He had sharp, hawkish features, neatly cropped blonde hair, and a scarred jawline. ""I am Hudson,"" the man introduced himself, his tone strictly formal. ""Second-in-command to the Alpha. Miss Stewart, you are currently riding with the head of the Northwest Lycan Coalition. The man you so casually called a coward controls every pack from British Columbia down to Northern California.""
Helga stared at Hudson, then slowly turned her gaze back to Alaric. ""Lycan? Like... werewolves? Are you insane? Is this some elaborate prank Lincoln hired actors for?""
Instead of answering with words, Alaric reached out and took her hand. His skin was unnaturally warm, almost feverish. The moment his fingers brushed hers, a violent surge of electricity tore through Helga’s veins. It wasn't painful; it was a deep, thrumming hum that resonated in the center of her chest, vibrating like a plucked cello string.
Before her disbelieving eyes, Alaric’s irises ignited into a pure, brilliant gold. The shadows beneath his cheekbones shifted, and his canine teeth elongated slightly, gleaming against his lower lip. A faint, low growl rumbled from his throat—not a sound of anger, but of recognition, ancient and absolute.
Helga tried to pull her hand back, but her muscles refused to obey. Her body wasn't frightened; on the contrary, every cell within her felt suddenly, terrifyingly awake, yearning toward him.
""You are human,"" Alaric murmured, his thumb brushing over the pulse point on her wrist, which was hammering furiously. ""Yet my wolf recognized you the moment your message appeared on my screen. For three centuries, I have led without an equal, without a mate. And tonight, a brokenhearted girl crying over noodles brought the entire pack structure to its knees with seven digits.""
""I... I can't be your mate,"" Helga stammered, her mind spinning into sheer delirium. ""I'm an interior designer. I pay rent on a studio. I got cheated on four hours ago! I don't belong in a fairy tale!""
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""This is no fairy tale,"" Hudson warned from the front, his expression grim. ""The Alpha King taking a human mate will shatter the political alliance Alaric was supposed to cement tonight. The Portland Pack was offering their Alpha's daughter, Lady Selene, to unite our borders. When word gets out that Alaric Crawford walked away from the Council table to rescue an ordinary woman, blood will be drawn.""
Alaric’s golden eyes snapped toward the front seat, a flash of pure dominant power silencing Hudson instantly. ""Let them bleed, Hudson. She belongs to me.""
