"Honestly, he’s surrounded. We have no chance of meeting him. Let me make a call."
Ronan’s voice was laced with frustration, but he didn’t hesitate, already stepping a few feet away, his phone pressed to his ear.
I stayed where I was, my gaze locked on the towering building before me.
It felt... impossible.
For days, I had tracked him, moving east, following the bond that pulled me closer. Now that I was here, standing in front of the untouchable glass fortress he lived in, it suddenly felt like I was no closer than when I had started.
How the hell was I supposed to get past security, corporate gates, bodyguards, and whatever other human barriers he had wrapped himself in?
The thought sent a wave of frustration through me.
For a wolf, this felt unnatural. I should be hunting him, finding him through scent and instinct. Instead, I was being forced to play by human rules, human restrictions.
It made my skin itch.
Ronan returned a few minutes later, his phone tucked back into his jacket pocket.
"So, I’ve made a call," he said simply.
He didn’t elaborate, and I didn’t push.
The air in the café was warm, thick with the scent of freshly brewed tea, spices, and hints of old magic. The moment I stepped inside, the tight coil of frustration and restlessness that had been sitting in my chest unraveled slightly.
Witch-run establishments had a certain calming energy to them, something woven into the air itself. Maybe it was the faint traces of enchantments lingering in the furniture or the protective sigils carved into the wooden counters.
Whatever it was, it was working.
I took a sip of my tea, the herbal warmth soothing my frayed nerves. Across from me, Ronan was casually stirring a cup of black coffee, his demeanor unreadable.
I was about to ask him who he called earlier, but before I could, the chime of the café door opening made me look up.
Two men stepped inside.
I immediately knew they were wolves.
They didn’t need to announce it.
I could smell it—the scent of pine and rain, of raw energy just barely contained beneath human skin.
The taller one entered first, his movements slow and calculated, as if he was assessing the space before fully stepping in. He was blond, blue-eyed, and almost distractingly handsome—the kind of attractive that was meant to disarm people.
The second man followed closely behind. He looked similar—same sharp features, same golden hair, but a little younger, a little leaner.
The first one’s gaze swept the room before locking onto me and Ronan.
He nodded at the owner of the café—a silent acknowledgment, a subtle sign of respect—before making his way toward our table.Ronan didn’t even flinch.
They sat down across from us without waiting for an invitation and just like that, I knew Ronan’s call had been to them.
I placed my cup down, meeting the blue-eyed wolf’s gaze with curiosity.
"I take it you’re here because of Ronan," the blond man said smoothly, his blue eyes locking onto mine with an amused glint.
There was something sharp about his gaze, an intelligence that told me he already knew more than he was letting on.
"Yes," he continued, a small knowing smile playing at the corner of his lips. "It’s not every day you get the chance to repay a blood debt."
I turned toward Ronan, arching an eyebrow.He merely shrugged. "It was nothing so dramatic."
"Nonsense," the man countered. "He saved our younger sister from vampire wolf traffickers. I can’t imagine what would have happened to her if he hadn’t stepped in."
I stiffened slightly.Vampire wolf traffickers.
That wasn’t something you just casually mentioned over tea.
I looked back at Ronan, but he avoided my gaze, his usual cocky smirk notably absent.There was a story here.One I’d pry out of him later.
"Anyway, Len," Ronan said, breaking the tension, "this is Adrian Neta, and that’s Austin, his younger brother."
I took in the two men more carefully.
So these were the Neta brothers—the heirs of the Canadian silvermist pack, also the richest wolves on the planets.
Adrian, the elder, was clearly the leader between them. Everything about him—his calm demeanor, sharp eyes, the way he commanded the room without speaking too much—told me he had been groomed for this role his entire life.
Austin, on the other hand, was more relaxed, leaning back against the booth like he had all the time in the world. He had the same golden hair, the same piercing gaze, but there was an ease to him that Adrian didn’t share.
"The pleasure is mine," Adrian said smoothly, giving me a polite nod. "Lenora Maen. Whitestone wolves are so isolated—it’s an honor to meet you."
I inclined my head slightly.It was true.
Our pack had a reputation for staying out of politics, staying out of industry, staying out of everything.We didn’t need outsiders. We had our lands, our people, our own traditions.
For generations, we thrived that way.
But the world was changing.
"So," Adrian continued, cutting straight to the point, "what’s so important that you had to call in the favor?"
"Are you in contact with Cameron Anderson?" Ronan asked.
Adrian’s expression didn’t change, but I noticed the slight pause before he answered.
"I mean, according to articles," Ronan added, "Neta and Anderson have had a few joint projects."
Adrian nodded. "Yes, actually. What’s this about?"
Ronan didn’t hesitate."We need to meet him."
Then, without missing a beat, he gestured toward me.
"Well, she needs to meet him."
Adrian’s gaze flickered toward me, curious now.
Adrian leaned back, considering. "I like Cameron," he said after a moment. "He’s one of the few humans I can actually tolerate in the industry."
Austin smirked. "Which is saying a lot."
"He’s also one of the few humans without any connection to those corpses."
Ronan exhaled sharply, shaking his head.
"A human? He’s a wolf."
Adrian frowned slightly. "No, I’m pretty sure I can tell when I’m in the presence of a wolf. And Cameron Anderson is human."
Ronan and I exchanged a look.Adrian’s certainty was unnerving.
"You must be wrong," I finally said, my voice firm. "Because he’s my mate."