24. Raphael #2
“Pull the security footage,” I heard myself say. My voice sounded distant, like it belonged to someone else. “Every angle on this floor from yesterday. Every maintenance access point.”
“Already doing it, sir.” Petrov’s voice was carefully neutral. The voice of a man delivering bad news to a superior who might shift and kill him for it. “But whoever did this knew the camera placement. There are blind spots in the coverage on this floor.”
Whoever had done this had planned it carefully, had calculated every angle, had waited with patience I had not expected. Joe Bishop had never been that smart or that patient. Joe Bishop was dead, rotting in the ground where I had put him, and someone else entirely had been watching my wife.
I killed the wrong man.
The realization hit like a physical blow.
I staggered back from the desk, my vision blurring at the edges, amber bleeding into my sight as the wolf fought for control.
My claws extended without conscious thought, scoring deep gouges into the wood of the desk.
I could not remember doing it. Could not stop it.
Failed. We failed. She is still in danger and we killed the wrong one.
“Vor?” Petrov’s voice, careful. Wary. Ready to move if I shifted. “Sir, are you—”
Through the ventilation grate.
The words from Petrov’s earlier assessment echoed in my skull.
The photo had been taken through the ventilation grate.
Someone had crawled through the building’s ductwork, positioned themselves above the mirror in her private bathroom, and waited.
Someone who knew every inch of this hotel.
Every access point. Every blind spot in the camera coverage.
Someone whose scent was everywhere.
My wolf went still. Not pacing. Not howling. Still and cold and certain, like a predator the instant before the strike.
The familiar scent. The one I had been smelling for months, dismissed as ambient background because it saturated every corridor, every room, every surface my wife touched. The scent I had filed away as just the hotel because it belonged to someone who was always here. Always close. Always watching.
Michael.
The name hit me like a blade between the ribs.
Michael, who knew the hotel’s maintenance systems better than anyone. Michael, who had access to every door, every code, every schedule. Michael, who had been at Lena’s side through every crisis, positioning himself as indispensable while I hunted the wrong prey.
Michael, who had just walked past me in the hallway, commenting on how relaxed my wife seemed.
I had been so focused on surveilling her, on memorizing her coffee schedule and her sleep patterns and every small habit that made her who she was, that I had failed to watch the man who was always there.
The one I had dismissed as furniture. The one whose scent I had stopped noticing because it was everywhere, because he was everywhere, because I had let my territorial jealousy convince me that my wolf’s warnings were just possessiveness rather than instinct.
My wolf had growled at him from the beginning. And I had told myself it was jealousy. Told myself to be rational. Chose logic over instinct, and now my mate was in danger because I had been too arrogant to listen to the animal who had known all along.
“Sir?” Petrov was still waiting, tension radiating from his stance. “What do you need?”
“Michael.” The name came out as a growl. “The general manager. Where is he right now?”
Petrov’s brow furrowed. “I saw him heading toward the garage about twenty minutes ago. Sir, you cannot think—”
“Get eyes on him. Now. Do not let him near my wife.”
I was already moving, the wolf surging toward the surface, claws pressing against my fingertips.
Every protective instinct screamed at me to find Michael and tear out his throat.
To end the threat the way I should have ended it months ago, before he got close enough to photograph my mate in her most private moments.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. Viktor’s name flashed on the screen.
Not now. I did not have time for pack politics when my mate was in danger.
I rejected the call.
It buzzed again. And again. On the fourth ring, a text came through.
The Pakhan summons you.
I stopped in the middle of the corridor.
The wolf went feral, claws scratching against the inside of my skin, demanding I ignore the message and hunt.
But the man understood what those words meant.
A direct summons from the Alpha was not a request. It was a command.
Ignoring it meant death. Or worse, exile.
Cast out from the pack, stripped of protection, hunted by the very wolves who had been my brothers.
The phone rang again. This time I answered.
“Rafa.” Viktor’s voice was tight. Urgent. “Where are you?”
“The hotel. Viktor, I cannot—”
“The Pakhan is not asking. He is demanding your presence. Now. Tonight.” A pause weighted with everything Viktor was not saying. “The consequences he promised at the gala. He has decided to collect.”
My jaw clenched so hard I heard my teeth creak. The midsummer gala. The confrontation in the corridor. I had refused to give the Pakhan access to Richard’s blackmail files. I had chosen my wife over pack interests. And Max Ivankov did not forget. Did not forgive.
“I cannot leave.” My voice came out raw. “My mate is in danger. The stalker—”
“Is your mate in immediate danger? Right now, in this moment?”
I reached for her along our connection. Lena’s presence hummed back at me, warm and steady. She was in a meeting three floors up, surrounded by staff, discussing summer season projections with her department heads. Safe. For now.
“No,” I admitted. “But—”
“Then you come. You answer the summons. You deal with whatever punishment he has decided, and then you return to your wife.” Viktor’s voice dropped lower.
“Rafa, if you ignore this summons, you will not have a pack to return to. And neither will she. Whatever protection your status gives her disappears the moment you are declared rogue.”
The wolf howled in frustrated rage. Every instinct screamed at me to stay. To hunt. To protect what was mine.
But Viktor was right. If I defied the Pakhan now, I would lose everything. My rank. My resources. My ability to keep Lena safe from the dozen other threats that circled her life. I would become a liability instead of protection.
“Petrov,” I barked into my earpiece. “Change of orders. Michael is to be watched at all times. Every moment. Every movement. If he goes anywhere near Mrs. Antonov, you detain him immediately. I do not care what excuse you have to make.”
“Understood, sir. And if he asks why?”
“Tell him it is a security protocol. Tell him anything. Just keep him away from her.”
I tried Lena’s phone. Straight to voicemail. She would be in the meeting for another hour at least, unreachable unless I burst into the conference room and caused a scene that would require explanations I did not have time to give.
I sent her a text instead. Something has come up. Pack business. I will explain when I return. Stay close to security. Trust no one. I love you.
The words felt inadequate. Hollow. I was leaving her in a building with a predator, protected by nothing but a security team who would never be as good at protecting her as myself.
But I had no choice.
“I am on my way,” I told Viktor.
The drive to the Pakhan’s compound took forty-five minutes.
Forty-five minutes of watching the road blur past while my wolf clawed at the inside of my skull, demanding I turn around.
Every mile, I reached for Lena’s presence, that steady warm hum that meant she was alive, she was safe, she was still there.
For now.
Michael’s face kept appearing in my mind.
His warm smile. His helpful demeanor. The way he had positioned himself as Lena’s most trusted employee, her confidant through every crisis.
He had been perfect. Too perfect. The kind of flawless performance that should have made me suspicious from the start.
Who had given Joe those access codes? Michael. Who had pointed Joe toward restricted areas, making him look guilty? Michael. Who had been watching my wife for months, maybe years, waiting for the perfect moment? The answer had always been Michael.
And I was driving away from her. Leaving her alone with him because my Alpha had decided that tonight was the night to extract his pound of flesh.
The bond pulsed between us. Lena’s confusion at my text, her worry bleeding through the connection. She knew something was wrong. She could feel my anxiety even if she could not name its source.
I will be back, I promised her silently. Promised myself. I will deal with the Pakhan and I will return and I will end this. Michael will not touch you. I will not let him.
The compound gates opened as I approached. Wolves lined the driveway, eyes glowing amber in the fading light. A show of force. A reminder of what I was walking into.
Whatever punishment Max had planned, I would endure it. I would survive it. And then I would return to my mate and tear Michael apart with my bare hands.
Through the bond, I felt Lena’s presence shift. Her meeting was ending. She would be leaving the conference room soon, walking through the hotel, passing through corridors where Michael could be waiting.
I had to trust that Petrov would keep her safe.
I had to trust that I had made the right choice.
As I walked toward the Pakhan’s door, my wolf howling in protest with every step, I prayed I was not making a mistake I would regret for the rest of my life.