Pitch Perfect: Until He Shifted

"Great."

It was the only word that came out of Isaac's mouth when he saw me—his loyal, overworked, underpaid reporter—standing behind bars.

I pouted at him, my fingers loosely holding onto the cold metal bars. As always, my brown, shoulder-length hair was tied up in a messy ponytail. My round eyes stared straight into his.

"Are you out of your mind, Ophie?" he snapped.

I didn't flinch. I didn't cry either. My face was calm and showed no sign of regret. I've always been tough like that, and Isaac knew it.

"I told you to cover the news, not become it."

I gripped the bars tightly. "Isaac, that rising actor was drunk. He was about to drive! I stopped him before he killed someone. Then, when his girlfriend defended me, that idiot hit her!"

Isaac narrowed his eyes. "But that doesn't give you the right to punch him."

"I did what was right!" My voice was firm.

"No," he said irritably. "You made it personal."

"Women defend women!"

Isaac looked like he was about to lose it. He stared at me as if I were a bomb about to explode. Honestly? Probably I was.

"Just let me breathe for a sec," Isaac said.

I know; I blew up a big scheme.

Apparently, the actor pressed charges against me for assault and "causing a scene." What was supposed to be a ten-minute interview turned into an all-night police report.

And this wasn't the first time something like this had happened. Drama tends to follow me like a shadow.

But of course, I'm me: Ophelia Perkins.

I'm 25 and a reporter for the Big Flat Daily. Maybe I'm a little too dedicated—or perhaps I'm the most problematic one they've ever had.

But I have my reasons. I live for the truth. I'm driven by high ideals and stubbornness, and I'm slightly impulsive. Even if it leads me straight into chaos.

News is my prey, and I'm the hunter!

I've worked under Isaac Steele for the past four years, and I'd like to think we understand each other. I piss him off. He saves my ass. Rinse and repeat.

Isaac has been more than just a boss to me; he's been like a guardian with a troubled daughter.

But I know he's furious right now.

"I'm not getting you out of here unless you show some remorse," he warned.

I shrugged. "I'll survive. The toilet paper here isn't bad."

"Ophie, please!"

"Your call, Isaac. But I don't mind doing public service. What I did was right, and eventually people will see that. Just wait until the public turns on that jerk. They'll come for him, not me!"

He let out a deep sigh. "You don't get it. I might lose you as a reporter. Hell, I might lose the entire paper because of your actions."

"No way."

"Yes, way," he snapped. "This isn't just any actor. He's from LA with a global fanbase. One word from him, and people will tear you apart online. Do you really think you can go up against him?"

"I have a witness: his girlfriend."

"Do you think she'll keep defending you? Maybe she'll change her mind. Perhaps she'll take his side."

That hit hard.

My fingers loosened their grip on the bar. Part of me wanted to scream out for justice. But the smarter part of me knew Isaac was right.

"What should I do, Isaac?" I asked softly.

He handed me a piece of paper. "Sign it. Do that, and this whole damn thing will go away quietly."

So I signed it.

Against every stubborn instinct in my body, I swallowed the injustice like bitter pills.

What did I get in return? Three months of public service. An apology I didn't mean. It was swept quietly under the rug.

Unfair? Absolutely. But that's how the world works.

When we finally left the police station, I didn't say a word. My sour, pissed-off mood was written all over my face. I followed Isaac silently to his car and slid into the passenger seat with a deep breath.

"You wanna go home?" he asked.

I shook my head. "Back to the office. I've got an article to finish. You know that city official scandal? I think I've found something."

Isaac squinted at me. "No, that story's off your plate. You've caused enough trouble. This is the last straw."

"Oh, come on, Isaac!"

"Don't 'oh, come on' me. I've got another assignment for you."

I didn't bother fighting back. Not this time.

I was too tired and numb. I just sat there, staring out the window while the city lights blurred past. It was almost midnight, and the car rolled down the empty city streets. The only sound was the hum of the engine beneath us.

I should have gone home. But lately, sleep hadn't been kind to me. The nightmares were back.

I hadn't had them in years, but now they came almost every night: There were war, blood, shifting shadows, and men with claws and glowing eyes.

Wolves.

It felt real. I knew something was wrong.

I told myself it was just stress. It was the fallout from chasing too many stories that led to cops and lawsuits. Or maybe it was just Isaac, always hovering and managing every part of my life.

Even though I was mad at him half the time, I still owed him everything.

After the accident that killed my parents, I covered it all up. I was eighteen, and I shut down my grief and sense of loss with ambition. I barely made it through college with the bit of insurance money that was left. I only made it through with scholarships and pure stubbornness.

Then Isaac came along. He gave me a shot.

Isaac offered me a job when I had nothing to offer. I had no connections. No support. I had just raw ambition and a sharp tongue. He's been saving me ever since.

He's pulled me out of trouble countless times, even when we fight—and trust me, we fight. He's always been there for me.

I respect him. Deep down, I care about him. But love? No, nothing romantic.

Isaac insanely attractive, though. Tall with dark brown hair that's always perfectly in place. He has steel-gray eyes that could slice through walls, and he has a presence that could silence a whole newsroom. Women fall for him all the time.

But not me.

I chose my career. Love was never part of the deal.

"Oh God..." I groaned and stretched my arms as the car pulled into the basement of the office building. My muscles ached, and my brain felt like it was melting from everything that had happened in the last 24 hours.

We walked into the building without saying much. The night guard greeted us with a curious look.

"You're out already, Miss Ophelia?" he asked.

"Safe and sound," I said with a tight smile.

"Good to hear that."

So we went straight to the office, which at night was dark and quiet. Most people would find that creepy. I liked it. Isaac led the way into his office, turned on his computer, and slid a folder across the desk toward me.

"What's this?" Bribery scandal? Corruption? Affair?" I asked, raising an eyebrow, as I opened the folder.

"Baseball player."

"Baseball?"

Seriously? What was I supposed to do with a story about a baseball player? Watch him swing a bat and smile for the camera? Lame.

"You've gotta be kidding me." I pushed the folder back at him. "I'm not doing this."

"I need you to investigate him."

"Investigate what, Isaac? What could be interesting about a baseball player?"

"He and his team will be practicing at Sky Diamond tomorrow at 8 a.m. Go."

"Who is he?"

"Lucas Newman."

I flipped through the file.

Lucas Newman. Twenty years old. He had just joined the city's elite baseball club, the Silverfangs. A total rookie—and a total phenomenon.

He came out of nowhere. He just showed up, passed the tryouts, and made the team.

No background. No records. He just appeared with a bat and a glove.

"Weird," I muttered.

The next morning, I dragged myself to Sky Diamond. I sat in the bleachers, sipped my lukewarm coffee, and watched the players warm up.

Then I saw him: Lucas Newman.

As soon as he stepped onto the field, I felt something. I don't know how to explain it, but there was something about him. Intense power. Raw. Magnetic.

Lucas had wavy brown hair that brushed his neck and broad shoulders. He was lean but powerful. He looked like he belonged in a movie, not on a baseball field.

I couldn't look away. My eyes locked on him, and then his eyes found me.

He stared. I stared back. The world fell silent.

And then... I smelled it: Pine. Citrus. There was a hint of something spicy, like cloves or cinnamon. The scent hit me like a drug—it was intoxicating.

What the hell?

I tried to shake it off. He's just a kid. A rookie. Nothing special.

"Don't be stupid, Ophie," I muttered under my breath.

Then, one of his teammates threw him a ball.

Clap! Lucas caught it without breaking eye contact. My skin broke out in goosebumps. He nodded slightly, then turned back to the field.

I sat frozen and a bit shaken, my breath caught in my throat. "What's happening to me?"

After the players finished practicing and I had waited there for more than two hours, sitting in the bleachers, I stood up. I ran toward the players' room.

My body trembled slightly as I approached the players who had just finished the game.

How could I not tremble? It was the first time I had ever seen Lucas play.

His speed when running and throwing the ball didn't even make sense. He mastered fastballs, curveballs, and sliders as if the ball came alive in his hands.

Even more surprising was that he could also bat. Very few players could master both pitching and batting.

The smell of sweat made me a little nauseous, but I tried to hold it in. I didn't pay attention to the interested glances some of the other players threw my way. I was only focused on finding Lucas.

The moment our eyes met, he stopped, leaving me speechless once again. My knees nearly buckled; I wasn't sure if it was because of his looks or the powerful aura he radiated.

This time, Lucas walked toward me as if he knew I was waiting for him.

"You need something from me?" Lucas asked without small talk, his deep and sexy voice sending shivers down my spine.

I swallowed hard. "Yeah, something like that. You're Lucas Newman, right? I'm Ophelia Perkins."

I awkwardly held out my hand, and we shook. For the first time ever, I felt nervous about asking for an interview. That wasn't like me.

"Okay, what is it?" His cold attitude offended me, not to mention the almost cynical way his eyes looked at me up close.

"I'm from Big Flat Daily, and I'd like to interview you. If you have time—"

Before I could finish, the baseball player cut me off. "No, there's nothing special about me. You'd be better off interviewing someone else."

"But—"

"Nice to meet you, ma'am."

Lucas walked straight into the locker room, leaving me stunned. Then, reality snapped back, and I was furious.

Filled with rage, I knocked on the players' locker room door. The second it opened, my eyes widened, and I almost couldn't blink.

My retinas felt violated by the sight of half-naked men strutting around in nothing but their underwear. What the hell was this? Team The Barbarians?

"Yes?" one of them asked casually.

"I need to talk to Lucas."

He turned his head back. "Lucas!"

The others chorused, "Lucas!" as if it were a ritual.

Through the steam and wall of shirtless bodies, Lucas finally emerged and walked toward me. He had changed into a tight, navy T-shirt; his baseball uniform was already off. The second I saw him, my anger melted away.

But I needed to stay firm. I needed to remind myself that being a reporter was serious business.

Lucas narrowed his eyes at me. "Didn't I already tell you I don't want to be interviewed?" he said arrogantly.

Ugh! Yes, I know. But I'm only here because my boss sent me. Like I'd ever willingly interview someone like you. I grumbled internally.

"I just need a few minutes to talk to you," I said, trying to stay professional.

Lucas stepped out and closed the door behind him. He leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. He's such a cocky ass, but damn, those arms! Being wrapped in them must feel like the safest place on Earth.

Snap out of it, Ophie! I scolded myself, annoyed at where my mind was wandering.

"You have two minutes," Lucas said casually.

"Okay, look—this interview is essential. You're one of the most talented players right now, and media coverage could boost your popularity even more. We could see this as a mutually beneficial relationship. What do you think?"

I was practically gasping for breath, feeling like I was on a timed quiz show.

"I'll even cover your meals and transportation for the interview," I added.

"Anywhere? Even a fancy restaurant?"

God, what a little shit.

"Yes, even if you want to eat at a themed restaurant or one of those revolving rooftop restaurants—I'll pay."

That'd go on Isaac's tab anyway. He was the one who wanted me to interview Lucas.

Lucas tapped his chin with his finger. "Interesting."

"Right? I can also offer you other perks and benefits if you agree."

"Hmmm..."

"Would you at least consider it?"

"No."

WHAT THE HELL?!

He shook his head. "No, thank you. Your time's up, ma'am."

He gave me a sarcastic little wave as if to mock me, then walked back inside.

There was no way I was knocking on that door again. I wasn't going to grovel like a desperate beggar, acting like he was my only source of news.

I stormed out of the stadium, grumbling the entire way.

"Damn it! He called me ma'am! Twice! That little shit!" I cursed.

Frustrated, I pulled my phone out of my bag and called Isaac. As I walked toward the street, I practically vibrated with anger, waiting for him to pick up.

"Hello?" Isaac answered.

I stopped on the sidewalk. "That player refused the interview. Just assign me to someone else! He's arrogant and annoying. Who does he think he is? Lucas Newman my ass! I'm not going near him again, Isaac!"

'But you want to.'

My entire body froze. I looked left and right because I'd heard a woman's voice whispering around me. But there was no one there.

"What the hell was that?" I murmured.

"What? What is it?"

"Nothing! Just stop. I don't want to interview Lucas Newman, period!"

"Ophie, we need a story on Lucas," Isaac said from the other end.

"Send another reporter. I'd rather interview farmers, even if we only talk about chickens and wheat!"

"This is your last chance. If you can't get a story on Lucas, I'll have no choice but to fire you."

After all these years and all the crap I'd pulled, Isaac said this so casually. What was so special about Lucas that Isaac would rather let me go than have me cover someone else?

"Are you threatening me?" My voice caught in my throat.

"Yes."

"Listen, Isaac. About Lucas's drug test? He’s clean. No criminal record. He just plays really well, and that's made him cocky. What the hell are we supposed to write about him? ‘A baseball player who hold his balls?’"

Isaac clears his throat. “I’m not going to argue about balls over the phone, Ophie.”

“Do you even have any?”

“Just find something on Lucas. Anything. The truth. His dark side.”

"Don't speak in riddles."

"Don't ignore my orders."

Click.

Isaac ended the call, making my blood boil. A message from him appeared: It was an RSVP invitation to a gala dinner scheduled for 7 p.m. tonight.

Attached was a note from Isaac that read, "Lucas will be there. I'm giving you a golden opportunity. Don't waste it."

My teeth clenched in rage. "Damn it!" I cursed.

A few minutes before seven o'clock, I arrived at a mansion on the outskirts of the city. The owner, a billionaire, was interested in baseball. As far as I knew, he sponsored the Silverfangs team.

The mansion was far from the main road; just getting there meant passing through rows of forest on either side. When I finally arrived, the mansion looked like a palace, grand and imposing. Luxury cars filled the expansive courtyard as more guests arrived.

These people were clearly not ordinary. I wondered how Isaac had even gotten the invitation. Maybe he used his influence in the media.

I stepped out of the cab and took a deep breath. "No wonder Isaac didn't want to come. This place is in the middle of nowhere."

I walked in and showed the invitation to the greeter at the door. Inside, the vibe was completely different. Diamonds and designer labels sparkled everywhere. Suddenly, I felt out of place in my simple black satin gown with thin spaghetti straps that reached my ankles.

I snatched a champagne flute off a passing tray and took a long sip to calm my nerves. Being alone in a crowd of the rich and powerful did nothing for my confidence.

I wandered, scanning the crowd. I was here on assignment—to find Lucas. But in a sea of people like this, he could be anywhere.

Then, I caught a familiar scent again. That perfume is faint but addictive. It filled me with a strange kind of energy and desire.

My eyes darted around, searching for the source. Without realizing it, I bumped into someone behind me.

I spun around. "I'm sorry!"

Lucas was standing right in front of me, casually nibbling on the mini quiche he was holding.

"I don't want to be interviewed," he said coldly, even though I hadn't said a word yet.

"Who said I came here to interview you?"

Lucas chuckled. "Oh, okay. Then carry on with your business."

My gaze shifted to the young men in formal suits who were chatting casually. Their tall, athletic builds suggested that they were athletes. However, their mannerisms didn't exactly scream "high class." They were definitely Lucas's teammates.

"Hey, are you guys from the Silverfangs team?" I asked, approaching the four of them.

"Yeah," they nodded.

"I'm Ophelia Perkins from the Big Flat Daily. Nice to meet you." I flashed them a sweet smile. "Your team is amazing. I'd love to interview one of you."

They glanced at each other awkwardly. How old were they, anyway? Seventeen? Or up to twenty?

They looked like kids trapped in grown-up bodies.

"What do you think? We can keep it casual. No pressure. Maybe we can talk while we dance?" I offered.

God, I sounded like a woman blatantly throwing herself at them. But, hey, that's better than getting humiliated by that arrogant jerk, Lucas. I'd rather get the scoop from his friends.

One of them raised his hand. "Sure, I'd love to dance with you."

I reached out to him, and—grab! Another hand suddenly caught mine. Lucas pulled me away from his teammates; his face was clearly pissed off.

"What are you doing?" Lucas hissed. "Do you really think getting chummy with my team won't cause problems?"

"What kind of problems?"

"If you give them a chance, you'll be the one in trouble."

"What on earth are you talking about?"

Lucas dragged me to the middle of the dance floor, causing everyone to turn and watch us suddenly start dancing. He wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me close, so close that I could barely breathe.

"Listen, just go find another story, okay?" Lucas said more as a command than a request.

"No! I need an interview with you!"

"You said you didn't come here to interview me."

Our eyes locked, and my heart started pounding faster. But I forced myself to stay calm in front of Lucas. We moved to the rhythm of the music. He spun me smoothly and caught me by the waist again. Lucas actually had some moves.

Meanwhile, I felt like a wrung-out cotton rag on a washboard.

He looked at me with an expression I couldn't quite read. It made me feel trapped, yet I couldn't look away.

"You're into me, aren't you?"

My gaze sharpened. "Absolutely not! Fine, then. I'll just interview your teammate instead," I said, half-threatening.

"I won't let you. Just go away. Leave my team alone, ma'am."

With that, Lucas ended our dance.

He turned and walked away, which only made me more irritated. I followed him as he slipped out onto the balcony to put distance between himself and the noise inside. He leaned on the railing and looked out at the view in front of him: acres and acres of woods.

I cleared my throat and stood cautiously behind him.

"You're doing this mysterious act on purpose, huh?" I asked.

He glanced sideways. "There's nothing special about me."

"You're playing humble to boost your image. Do you think I haven't seen the way you play on the field?"

"Does that matter?"

"To my boss? Yes. To me? It's boring."

Lucas gave a slight smirk. "Then why go through all this trouble to talk to me? You're not going to get anything."

My heart dropped. I shouldn't have said that. Wasn't my career on the line?

I should have played nice and tried to win him over.

But the damage was done. I knew I wasn't getting anything from Lucas.

"Fine," I snapped.

I walked away in frustration and stormed out of the mansion, full of regret. Only when I reached the gate did I realize I didn't have a ride home.

"Damn it! How many miles do I have to walk?" I muttered, looking down at my high heels.

I took them off, determined to walk barefoot down the road. The cold air hit my bare skin, but I kept going anyway, moving past the dark rows of trees on either side of the road.

Over twenty minutes had passed. The main road still wasn't in sight.

I focused on walking. I tried to ignore the sounds of the night: The rustling leaves. The distant howls of animals.

But something made the hairs on my arms stand up: A wolf howled.

I froze. "A wolf?"

Another howl answered it. Then another.

This time, I was alert. The sound was getting closer.

I picked up the pace. My mind was torn. Should I go back to the mansion? It was safer; people were there.

But the main road was so close; surely, at least one or two cars would pass by.

Then, I heard the brush rustle to my right, deeper in the trees. I looked toward the sound, and there, glowing in the darkness, were a pair of yellow eyes.

Not just one pair. More.

My breath caught. "No, no," I whispered, trembling.

I backed away into the woods, hoping to throw them off the trail. My walk turned into a run, my breath ragged and my chest heaving.

The creatures chased me. I could hear them behind me.

I tripped on a tree root jutting from the ground and tumbled to the dirt. I scrambled, feeling around blindly.

Deep, menacing growls surrounded me. Death felt close.

"Oh, God..."

I crawled until I reached the base of a tree, pressed my back against it, and held my breath. I prayed they wouldn't find me.

But prayers didn't work.

The wolves came.

Their eyes glowed. Their teeth bared. Hungry.

One of them—the biggest—stepped forward. Its strength was terrifying. I couldn't move.

Tears streamed down my face. I never thought I'd die like this, torn apart by wolves.

The leader lunged at me, its claws slashing across my side and throwing me to the ground. Its fangs sank into my neck.

"Aaarrghhh!!!" I screamed.

Despite the pain and shock, I heard another howl—this one louder.

Several wolves appeared. A different pack. One of them tackled the alpha that had bitten me.

I closed my eyes and felt my blood dripping from my arm and soaking into the soil. My heart thundered in my chest, but my limbs were cold and numb.

I squinted, barely conscious, as I saw one of the wolves shift into a human. Naked men. It was as if that would be the last beautiful thing I would ever see.

One of them came closer, and I recognized his face.

"Lucas..."

His name barely escaped my lips before everything went dark.

LUCAS POV

"Oh, Moon Goddess! She's injured!"

I scooped up Ophelia, whose limp body was slick with blood pouring from a gaping wound. Without wasting another second, I ran toward the mansion at full speed, my teammates trailing behind me.

"Is she going to die? Shit! We're screwed if she dies, Lucas!" Trevor shouted, panicking as he ran beside me. "What the hell was she doing in the woods?!"

"This isn't the reporter's fault!! Those rogue wolves crossed into our territory unnoticed!" Angus called from behind.

"Secure the area! Don't let them escape!" I commanded.

The others scattered, leaving only Trevor and me to sprint toward the mansion. A huge event was happening tonight, and none of us thought the rogue wolves would take advantage of it. Shit!

We slipped in through the back, unnoticed by the guests. I rushed her upstairs. I laid Ophelia on my bed, my heart pounding with dread. If only I hadn't pushed her away, none of this would have happened. I was only trying to keep Ophelia out of our world.

"She won't stop bleeding! She could die!" I pressed hard against the wound. Damn it!

"Lucas, we can't take her to the hospital. It's too far! She'll bleed out before we get there!"

"Then help me! I can't lose her, Trev!"

"How?"

"I don't know! Call the Alpha! Maybe he can help. Hurry!"

Trevor grabbed my robe and ran out of the room. I continued to apply pressure, but Ophelia's skin was growing colder by the second.

"Please, please don't die. Don't die on me, ma’am!"

'Lucas!'

Barric, my wolf, snapped me out of my panic.

Ophelia's body suddenly convulsed. I couldn't stop her. Her skin heated up so quickly that it scorched my palms, and I had to step back.

"What the hell...?"

A faint white light spread under her skin, moving quickly, almost as if it were flowing through her veins.

'Lucas, get back!'

Suddenly, a surge of white energy burst from her body, knocking me back across the room. I hit the floor hard and started coughing.

When I opened my eyes, the room was still. What just happened?

I scrambled back to her side. Ophelia was unconscious, but her wound had disappeared. Completely. Only dried blood remained on her skin and the sheets.

Wait, am I dreaming?

'She released a huge wave of energy,' Barric murmured.

"I know, Barric. Is that...normal? For a human?"

'She doesn't feel human to me, Lucas.'

"That's what I thought. But Ophelia seemed human to me, and you sensed the same thing earlier, didn't you?"

'Yeah... this is confusing me too.'

The door burst open. Trevor returned with Alpha Cyrus. I stepped aside, giving them room to approach.

"How bad is the wound?" the Alpha asked.

I looked at him. "It's gone. She healed."

Cyrus stared at me, stunned, then checked Ophelia by himself. His face twisted between awe and dread. Finally, he exhaled.

"Who is she, Lucas?"

"She's a reporter. Ophelia something, from the Big Flat Daily. She came here to interview me." I cleared my throat. "I refused. We argued. Then she left and was attacked by rogues."

"Double security. This shouldn't have happened." Alpha Cyrus paced with his hands on his hips. "Watch her. Don't tell her anything. Tell her it was all a dream. Once this event's over, we'll talk again."

I nodded. "Yes, Alpha."

They left me alone with the mysterious reporter who had just blown my world apart.

I headed into the bathroom and grabbed a basin of warm water and a towel. When I returned, I moved Ophelia to a clean part of the bed and tossed the bloodstained pillow out the window. I covered the stained sheets and gently wiped the dried blood from her skin.

Touching her made my heart race. My hair stood on end. I'd never felt this way toward any she-wolf before.

Is she...a wolf?

Then why can't I sense her as one?

In my twenty years of life, I had never witnessed anything like this "miracle." My life had only known tragedy. I was born into a small, peaceful pack until rogues destroyed it. I was the only survivor.

Alpha Cyrus found me in the ruins. He gave me a second chance. A new life. I worked every day to make him proud.

"Mmm..." Ophelia moaned softly.

I froze. Instinctively, I laced my fingers with hers. Ophelia's skin was warming up again. Her brow furrowed, and her body was restless, like she was having a nightmare.

"Shh... shh..." I whispered, patting her hand. "You're okay. You're safe."

She calmed slowly.

I sat there watching her face. She was beautiful. Damn it. Why did I find her so attractive?

The door to my room creaked open again. Trevor walked in. He was now dressed in a casual button-down shirt.

"Alpha Cyrus wants to see you in his office," he said, tossing my robe onto the back of a chair.

"But the party's not over yet, is it?”

"I guess your little reporter is more interesting than a bunch of drunk wolves in suits. Go on, he's waiting. I'll stay here with her."

"Don't even think about getting close to her. Sit in that chair. Don't touch her or anything in my room."

"Okay! Got it. Jeez, Lucas."

I stepped out and shut the door behind me. Still, unease clawed at my chest. I didn't trust Trevor with her. It wasn't because he was reckless, but because I didn't understand why I suddenly cared so much. Why did I feel like Ophelia belonged to me?

I headed down the hall to Alpha Cyrus's office. The door was open. He stood by the window with the curtains pulled wide, gazing out with a rigid expression.

Something was definitely bothering him.

"So, the reporter's not human," he muttered.

"Judging by how fast her wounds healed, definitely not," I nodded. "But I don't know what she is. "Her scent doesn't indicate that she's a wolf."

"Interesting."

I could already see the glint of fascination in Alpha Cyrus's eyes. I knew this man too well. This so-called "miracle" would only fuel his ambition.

Cyrus Manning wasn't just our Alpha; he was also a billionaire with power, influence, and a vision. He named our baseball team the Silverfangs after the pack itself because he could. As the team's owner and main sponsor, he had that kind of authority.

"Maybe she was born flawed," he said with a sly smile. "Or maybe someone made her that way. If she's that important, we need to find out why."

"You want me to investigate her?"

"Of course. Find out who she really is."

I hesitated. "But..."

I didn't finish. I knew better than to challenge Alpha Cyrus openly.

The truth was, I didn't want to dig too deep. We'd worked hard to keep our kind hidden. No one outside the pack suspected that werewolves existed. But Alpha Cyrus was already changing that.

He brought us to Big Flat City, claiming it was an opportunity. He bought property, built influence, and blended in with humans.

However, our presence drew attention.

Rival packs had started moving in and threatening our territory. They didn't want wolves mingling so closely with humans. More than anything, they wanted Cyrus's power.

But, Alpha Cyrus saw our coexistence with humans as an advantage. A shield.

Today, though, he seemed to think differently.

"You're afraid she'll expose us, aren't you?" he asked.

"That's one of my worries, Alpha."

He shook his head. "She won't. Not once does she know who she really is."

"But once she learns the truth about herself, she'll know the truth about us, too."

Alpha Cyrus turned and smiled broadly as he slapped a heavy hand on my shoulder.

"I'm sure you'll think of a way to help her awaken to her true identity without revealing ours."

I couldn't argue. Not because I was afraid, but because I owed Alpha Cyrus everything. He saved me. He raised me. Now, I was his weapon.

Alpha Cyrus had no heir. He couldn't have one. His old pack was wiped out by enemies, and he barely survived. Like me, he was the only one left. Instead of fading into nothingness, he built something new and swore revenge.

When the time came to take vengeance, I would be the one to strike.

"Stay with the reporter," he finally said. "When she wakes up, take her home. Tell her you've changed your mind and agree to the interview. Stall her. Buy us time to figure out what we're dealing with."

"Yes, Alpha."

Great. This was going to get twisted—real fast.

My eyes slowly fluttered open, a sore feeling in my neck and shoulder made a small groan escape my lips. I woke up on a soft bed, smelling of fresh linen. I scanned the entire room, which looked unfamiliar.

This wasn’t a hospital bed, and I definitely wasn’t in a clinic. The room was a bedroom, with clean ivory-colored walls, without any wall decorations. There was a wardrobe, a study desk. A baseball bat and a pitcher’s glove were neatly placed inside a cabinet near the door.

In the middle of my confusion, the bedroom door opened. Lucas entered, wearing a black robe. Instantly, I sat up and screamed.

“What kind of creature are you?!” I pointed at him, defensively.

Lucas only furrowed his brow. “What are you talking about?”

“I swear, I saw you shift—from a wolf into…” I lost my words for a moment. “…into YOU!”

Then I started rambling in panic.

“I was attacked by a pack of wolves. They chased me into the woods. One of them bit my neck, and…”

I touched my sore neck. I gasped. There was no wound there, only a faint crescent-shaped. Like a birthmark. That had never been there before. Wait, what is happening? Am I dreaming or something?

“And?” Lucas pushed my unfinished words.

My excitement to explain faded, I sighed. “Then another pack came, and I saw you.”

That statement closed my rant and made me feel ridiculous. But deep inside, I knew I wasn’t hallucinating.

Lucas approached me, stood at the end of the bed with his arms crossed. “You wanna hear my version?”

I turned my eyes away. Seeing Lucas in a robe, with his chest slightly exposed, made me feel awkward.

“I found you by the roadside, drunk and unconscious,” Lucas continued.

“That’s not what happened!”

“It is what happened!”

But Lucas’s version made more sense. First, there was no wound on my shoulder. And second, I did drink champagne. Was it too strong, that I blacked out?

“I’ll take you home, so get ready,” Lucas concluded.

He immediately walked out to the bathroom, bruising my pride at that moment. This made me start to wonder: What if Lucas was actually right about everything?

Lucas returned. He sighed and said, "Wait outside. I'm going to change," he said sharply.

"Oh, so this is your room?" I looked surprised. "You live in this mansion?"

"Please get out."

I raised both palms in surrender and walked toward the door. As I passed Lucas, he suddenly grabbed my shoulder and pinned me to the wall.

"Hey, what are you doing?!" I shouted in panic, but something deep inside me whispered something else entirely.

Our eyes locked, and Lucas's gaze left me stunned. That strong pine and citrus scent came from his body again. I held my breath, feeling desire start to get out of control. Lucas's breathing became ragged as if he were holding back his primal instincts.

"Never tell anyone I live here," Lucas growled.

I challenged him. "Or what?"

"I'll tell everyone you got drunk on a glass of champagne. I found you collapsed on the roadside."

A weary sigh escaped my lips. "Fine."

Lucas took a breath. Before he let go of me, he said something. "Mate…"

"What did you say?"

"Nothing." Lucas took a breath as if he were holding something back.

Suddenly, he grabbed my shoulder again, and I couldn't move under his grip. I didn't want to look at him, but he was like cotton candy on display, tempting me.

I knew I wasn't supposed to buy it; it would only give me a toothache. That's how my logic kept pushing me to snap out of it.

"Let me go. You're hurting me," I whispered, my breath coming in short gasps.

No, no, hug me! I want you to hold me! My heart screamed the opposite. Shit! How could I be this stupid?!

"Sorry," Lucas whispered.

I shivered instantly and dashed out of the room, holding my chest. My heart was racing, and my mind had gone to places it shouldn't have.

I imagined wrapping my arms around Lucas's neck and kissing his tempting lips. Then, we would fill each other up. I wanted Lucas to touch me, to be rough with me.

Reflexively, I slapped my own cheek. "Get a grip, idiot! What's wrong with your brain?"

Not long after, Lucas came out of the room. He walked ahead of me, and I followed silently behind. As we approached the exit of the mansion, I saw an old man waiting on the front terrace. Embarrassment and awkwardness washed over me, and I nodded politely at the man.

Oh, God! He's Cyrus Manning, the owner of this mansion. The billionaire!

"Good morning, sir," I said.

Cyrus smiled warmly. "Glad to see you're awake."

"I'm sorry about my behavior. I must have caused you trouble. I wasn't conscious, and I know that was embarrassing."

"It's all right. Many people don't realize who they truly are, but they will eventually. What matters most is what we do once we know who we are."

My brows furrowed as I tried to understand what Cyrus meant. Maybe older people were just like that, using metaphors to give life advice. Instead of saying, "What a shame you can't hold your liquor!"

Cyrus reached out his hand. "I don't think we've been introduced. I'm Cyrus Manning; you can call me Cyrus."

"Perkins." I shook his hand. "Ophelia Perkins, sir. From the Big Flat Daily."

"Did you come to the party last night?"

I nodded awkwardly. "Yes, I received the invitation. I wanted to interview Lucas. He's a talented player."

"Oh, about that, you can certainly discuss it with Lucas." Cyrus turned to the arrogant young man standing beside him. "Surely you won't disappoint Miss Perkins, will you?"

"I…" Lucas looked hesitant.

Cyrus chuckled softly, clearly amused by Lucas's refusal to be interviewed by me. However, if Cyrus gave his approval, Lucas wouldn't be able to back out.

Okay, being found unconscious on the roadside after a night of drinking? I suppose that's not the worst thing that could've happened.

"Nice to meet you, Miss Perkins. I suppose from now on, I'll keep my eyes on you."

I swallowed hard. There was something different about the billionaire beyond the power and scent of money. There was a frightening force that made my skin crawl.

Who exactly was Cyrus? And why did I suddenly feel so guarded around him?