Chapter 022 Public Appearance
Quinn’s laugh cut through the ambient noise of the rooftop restaurant, bright and uninhibited, and the sound hit Julian like a physical blow to the chest. He leaned back in his chair, ignoring the expensive wine in front of him to simply watch her.
The wave of possessive pride that rolled over him was so potent it threatened to choke him.
Mine.
For years, he’d convinced himself this part of his life was over. That the capacity for this kind of bone-deep satisfaction had been scorched out of him by betrayal and duty, leaving only a hollowed-out shell of an Alpha. He’d resigned himself to a life of managing decline, of holding the line.
He had been spectacularly wrong.
“—and then the entire server room flooded with foam because someone thought it would be funny to test the fire suppression system manually.”
Silas groaned, dropping his face into his hands. “In my defense, I was nineteen. My frontal lobe hadn’t finished cooking.”
“You were twenty-two,” Julie corrected, her voice dripping with sweetness. She tapped a fingernail against her glass. “I’ve seen the incident report.”
Silas lifted his head, blinking. “You have an incident report?”
“I have all the incident reports.” Julie’s smile was pure mischief, the kind that usually spelled trouble for anyone in her blast radius. The curvy brunette had his brother wrapped completely around her finger, and Silas looked perfectly content to be there. “My husband’s youthful misadventures make excellent bedtime reading.”
Quinn snorted into her wine glass, nearly choking. “Please tell me there are more stories. I need ammunition.”
“So many stories.” Julie leaned forward, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Did you know he once tried to convince the IT department that he’d been hacked when he was really just locked out of his own email? He sent a ticket marked ‘Urgent: Breach in Progress.’”
“I was hacked,” Silas muttered, reaching for his whiskey. “Technically. By myself.”
Quinn rolled her eyes. “That is not how hacking works and you know it.”
Julian tuned out the specifics of the tech talk, his focus narrowing entirely on Quinn. She was wearing a black t-shirt she’d taken scissors to, widening the neckline until it slipped off one shoulder. The alteration was messy, punk-rock, and perfect.
It showcased the mating mark on the junction of her neck and shoulder.
The sight of it—bruised, claiming, undeniable—soothed the constant, low-level agitation in his blood. It was a billboard to the world. It said she had looked at everything he was—dominant, possessive, a monster wrapped in human skin—and hadn’t run. She’d said yes.
The restaurant was the kind of place he usually despised. Perched on the top floor of the corporate tower next to TalkToMe headquarters, it was all glass walls, artful fern arrangements, and waiters who moved with the silent, judgmental grace of assassins. It smelled of money and expensive perfume, lacking any honest scent.
Today, he didn’t care.
“You’re doing it again,” Silas said quietly, his voice pitched low enough to slide under the women’s conversation.
Julian dragged his gaze away from Quinn’s neck. “Doing what?”
“Smiling. It’s unnerving. You look like you just ate the canary and enjoyed the crunch.”
Julian tried to flatten his expression into something more neutral, more Alpha-appropriate. He failed. The corners of his mouth twitched upward, rebelling against his control.
“Shut up.”
“I’ve known you for twenty-eight years. I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve seen you look like this.” Silas’s expression softened, the teasing edge dissolving into something that looked suspiciously like brotherly pride. “It suits you.”
“Don’t get sentimental.”
“Too late. Julie’s already planning the mating ceremony. She has a Pinterest board. It’s terrifying.”
Julian’s gaze cut back to his brother’s mate. Julie was currently showing Quinn something on her phone—probably photos of Silas’s questionable fashion choices from the early 2000s, given the look of horror on Quinn’s face.
The warmth in his chest cooled slightly. Reality intruded.
“The pack hasn’t accepted her yet.”
“They will.”
“The Elders—”
“Will come around or be overruled.” Silas took a sip of his drink, his calm infuriating. “You’re the Alpha, Julian. Your choice of mate isn’t up for committee approval. It’s not a zoning variance.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“It is exactly that simple. You’ve spent so long trying to be the leader they expected that you forgot you get to decide what kind of leader you actually are.” Silas set the glass down with a sharp clink. “Father let the Elders dictate his choices. He let tradition strangle his instincts. Look where that got him.”
The mention of Robert Moonstone sent a familiar, acidic twist through Julian’s gut. His father had been a good man, a strong Alpha, until Morgana had twisted him. Until the pack’s rigid adherence to the old ways had given her the cracks she needed to seep in and nearly destroy them all.
“Quinn isn’t Morgana,” Julian said, the words rough.
“No,” Silas agreed. “She isn’t. So stop treating your situation like it’s the same tragedy waiting to replay.”
Before Julian could respond, Quinn turned toward him. Her grey eyes were bright behind her glasses, magnified and intelligent.
“Julie says you used to be afraid of heights.”
Julian shot his brother a look of profound betrayal. “That was confidential.”
“Nothing’s confidential from mates,” Julie chirped. “Pack law, I’m pretty sure. Section 4, Paragraph 2: Total Transparency regarding embarrassing childhood phobias.”
“It’s definitely not pack law.”
“It should be.” Quinn reached across the white tablecloth to squeeze his hand. Her fingers were cool, her grip firm. Even that brief contact sent a jolt of warmth flooding through his nervous system, settling the wolf. “Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me. Mostly.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Mostly?”
“I might use it for leverage during future arguments. If you refuse to stop growling at the toaster, I’m telling everyone you cried on a Ferris wheel.” Her grin was unrepentant. “A girl needs advantages.”
“You have plenty of advantages.” His voice dropped an octave, deepening into a rumble that vibrated in his chest. The memory of the morning—her skin flushed pink, her body breaking apart in his arms—hit him with visceral force.
Her cheeks darkened. A lovely, telling flush.
Adorable.
The thought was immediately swamped by a surge of possessive hunger. This brilliant, stubborn, impossibly brave woman was his. His to protect. His to cherish. His to drive slowly insane with wanting until she gasped his name and forgot how to speak in complete sentences.
“Julian.”
He blinked, dragging himself back to the present. Silas was watching him with poorly concealed amusement.
“You’re staring at your mate again.”
“I wasn’t staring.”
“You absolutely were,” Julie said. “It was sweet. Intense. Slightly terrifying, but sweet.”
Quinn laughed again, and Julian felt his carefully maintained composure fracture further. He signaled for the check, a sudden, desperate need to have her alone seizing him. The restaurant was too loud, too bright, too full of people who weren’t her.
Later, he told the wolf. Business first.
The reminder acted like a bucket of ice water. They still had the cyber threat. Someone had targeted the pack’s finances, aiming to cripple them just as they were trying to evolve. He couldn’t fully settle into this new, fragile happiness until he knew his people were safe.
“I need to stop by my office,” Quinn said, as if reading the shift in his scent. “Just for an hour. I want to run some additional traces on those attack vectors while I have access to the mainframes.”
“I’ll come with you.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I want to.”
Silas and Julie exchanged a look. He ignored it. He wasn’t letting her out of his sight.
---
Quinn moved through the TalkToMe building like she owned the place. She nodded to security guards who clearly knew her by name, swiped through access points with practiced ease, and navigated the labyrinthine corridors without pausing.
The old worry gnawed at him.
She belongs here.
This was her world. Fiber optics, climate control, sterility. Not mud and blood and pine needles.
He shoved the thought aside. They’d had this conversation. She had chosen him. She had given herself to him completely, body and heart and bond. But watching her navigate this high-tech ecosystem with such fluid confidence, he couldn’t entirely silence the voice that whispered: For how long?
Her office was smaller than he’d expected. It was a glass-walled box barely larger than a utility closet, crammed with monitors, tangles of cables that looked like robotic snakes, and a collection of coffee mugs that bordered on a hoarding problem.
“Home sweet home,” she said, dropping into a custom ergonomic chair with a sigh that was half-contentment, half-resignation. “Well. Former home.”
“You’ll miss it.”
“Parts of it.” She was already waking up the screens, fingers flying across a mechanical keyboard that clacked loudly. “The coffee machine in the break room is worth more than my car. The twenty-four-hour dim sum place around the corner. The way everything just works when you have a tech budget bigger than most countries’ GDP.”
“We could improve the compound’s infrastructure.”
“That’s literally why I’m there.” She flashed him a grin over her shoulder, the blue light of the monitors reflecting in her glasses. “But I appreciate the thought.”
He moved to stand behind her, acting as a silent sentinel. Data scrolled across her screens in waterfalls of neon text—patterns he couldn’t begin to interpret. Code. Network diagrams. It might as well have been spellwork.
“What are you looking for?”
“The breadcrumbs.” Her voice went distant, her attention funneling into that laser focus he’d come to recognize. It was the same focus she applied to him when she was trying to figure him out. “Whoever attacked us was careful. Professional. But everyone leaves traces. You just have to know where to look. It’s like tracking in the woods, just… with packets instead of paw prints.”
He watched her work in silence. The office smelled of ozone and stale coffee and cleaning products. His wolf paced beneath his skin, agitated by the enclosed space, the artificial lights, the hum of electricity that felt like bees in his teeth. Everything in him wanted to grab her and carry her back to the mountains where the air was clean and the threats could be dealt with using teeth and claws.
He controlled the urge. Barely.
“That’s… interesting.”
Her voice had changed. The distant abstraction sharpened into something harder. Predatory.
“What?”
“Give me a minute.” Her fingers blurred, typing commands faster than he could follow. Windows opened and closed. “I need to verify… okay. Okay, that’s definitely not a coincidence.”
“Quinn.”
“The attack on our financial systems came from a spoofed IP address. I knew that already. But I’ve been tracing the routing patterns, looking for anything distinctive.” She pointed a manicured finger at a cluster of numbers on her screen. “See this? It’s a timing signature. Basically tells us when the attack packets were sent, down to the millisecond.”
“And?”
“And they correspond exactly—exactly—with the Council meeting schedules.” She swiveled the chair to face him, eyes bright with the thrill of the hunt. “Someone was launching attacks specifically when they knew you’d be distracted. When they knew the whole pack leadership would be occupied in the Great Hall.”
His wolf surged forward, lips peeling back from teeth that felt suddenly too large for his mouth.
“Who?”
“That’s the interesting part.” She spun back to the screens, pulling up a map with colored lines connecting various geographic points. “I traced the routing back through about seventeen proxy servers. Whoever did this really didn’t want to be found. They bounced the signal through Russia, Brazil, back to a server farm in Jersey.”
“But you found them.”
“I found their provider.” Her smile held no warmth. It was sharp. Dangerous. “They were using a VPN service that’s popular with people who want to hide their tracks. Problem is, the service keeps metadata logs even when they claim they don’t. I may have… acquired some of those logs.”
“Legally?”
“Let’s say ‘creatively.’” She waved a hand dismissively. “The important thing is, I found a device registration that tracks back to a satellite internet account.”
“Satellite?”
“Whoever did this doesn’t have access to standard cable or fiber internet. They’re using satellite service—the kind you’d use in a remote location where the grid doesn’t reach.” She paused, letting him connect the dots. “Like, say, a mountain compound that hasn’t finished its infrastructure upgrade.”
His blood went cold. The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.
“Someone in the pack.”
“Someone with enough technical knowledge to set up a sophisticated attack. Someone with access to the Council schedule. Someone with a satellite internet account registered to…” She tapped a final key. A name and location flared on the screen. “A cabin in the northwest sector of Moonstone territory.”
He knew that cabin. He knew the scent of the man who lived there. He knew, with a sudden, sickening certainty, exactly who had been smiling to his face while holding a knife to the pack’s throat.
“Sterling.”
The name came out as a growl, vibrating the glass walls of the office.
“Elder Sterling,” she confirmed. “The man who’s spent every Council meeting ranting about how technology will destroy the pack has been secretly using that same technology to attack you.”
Rage surged through him—hot, blinding, primal. It wasn’t just anger; it was a physical need. His wolf demanded blood. It demanded he shift now, tear through the glass, run until his paws bled, and rip the traitor’s throat out in front of the gathered pack.
Kill. Traitor. Kill.
Her hand on his arm grounded him.
“Hey.” Her voice was calm, cutting through the red haze. “I know that look. Whatever you’re planning, we need to think this through.”
“He attacked the pack.”
“He attacked the pack’s finances. Financially, that’s attempted theft. Legally—”
“I don’t give a damn about legally.” His hands curled into fists, claws pricking his palms, threatening to break skin. “Pack law is clear. Betrayal—”
“Is handled by the Alpha. I know.” She stepped closer, sliding her hand up to cup his jaw. Her thumb brushed over the tension in his muscle, and the touch helped anchor him to the room, to the woman, to the man he was supposed to be. “But you can’t just execute an Elder without proof the whole pack will accept. Sterling has supporters. Friends. People who agree with his traditionalist stance even if they don’t know about his hypocrisy.”
“Are you telling me to let him walk?”
“I’m telling you to be smart about this,” she said firmly. “You catch him the wrong way, and he becomes a martyr. ‘The Alpha killed an Elder for speaking his mind.’ That’s the story his allies will tell. That’s how you fracture the pack. That’s how civil wars start.”
He forced himself to breathe. To think past the wolf’s screaming fury. She was right. He hated that she was right, but the logic was sound.
“Then what do you suggest?”
“We need ironclad evidence. Something that proves his guilt beyond any possible doubt.” She turned back to her screens, eyes scanning the data. “The data I have is convincing to me, but it won’t mean anything to people who don’t understand how network forensics work. We need something simpler. Something even the most technophobic Elder can’t dismiss.”
“Such as?”
“A confession would be nice.” She tapped her fingers against the desk, a rapid staccato rhythm. “Or physical evidence. The actual devices he used to launch the attacks. Transaction records showing what he planned to do with the money he was trying to steal.”
“You think you can find those?”
“I think I can find enough.” A fierce smile curved her lips. “People like Sterling always underestimate people like me. He probably thinks his cyber tracks are completely covered because he hired some ‘city expert’ to set up his VPN. He doesn’t realize that every time he logs in, he leaves fingerprints all over the digital landscape.”
Pride swelled through him—pride in his mate, in her brilliance, in the sharp tactical mind that lived behind those oversized glasses. She wasn’t just a tech support; she was a strategist.
“How long?”
“Not long now that I’ve found him. I can set up some monitoring tools, wait for him to make another move.” She hesitated, her expression tightening. “There’s a risk, though.”
“What risk?”
“If he realizes I’m watching, he might destroy the evidence. Or escalate to something more direct.” Her hand found his again, squeezing tightly. “He’s already shown he’s willing to use underhanded methods. I don’t want to think about what he might do if he feels cornered.”
His jaw tightened. The thought of Sterling targeting Quinn—
“You’ll be with me,” he said flatly. “At all times. Until this is resolved.”
“Julian—”
“No arguments.” He turned her chair to face him fully, leaning down until their eyes were level. He let her see the gold bleeding into his irises. “You’re my mate, kitten. My Luna. If Sterling or anyone else threatens you, they will answer to me.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“I know you can.” He brushed a strand of pink hair back from her face. “But you don’t have to. Not anymore.”
He watched her struggle for a moment, knowing her fierce independence warred with the biological imperative to be protected by her mate. He waited.
“Fine,” she said finally. “But I reserve the right to take care of you in return.”
“I look forward to it.”
---
They left the city within the hour.
The drive back to the mountains was tense. The domestic bliss of lunch felt like a lifetime ago, replaced by the grim weight of duty. Julian spent most of the drive strategizing, turning scenarios over in his mind while Quinn worked on her laptop in the passenger seat, the glow of the screen illuminating her focused expression.
Just as they reached the foothills, where the cell service began to spot, she closed the laptop with a satisfied snap.
“Got him.”
“More evidence?”
“Yep.” She turned sideways in her seat, tucking her legs beneath her. It made her look impossibly young, deceptively harmless. “I found his digital trail leading back almost three months. He’s been building to this for a while.”
Three months. Before she had even arrived at the compound.
“What triggered it?”
“Best I can tell? The investment deal with TalkToMe.” She pushed her glasses up her nose. “The timeline matches perfectly. He started setting up his infrastructure right after you announced the partnership with Silas’s company.”
“He said the city would corrupt us.” His hands tightened on the steering wheel until the leather creaked. “He’s been opposing modernization since before I became Alpha.”
“Opposing it publicly while secretly using it against you.” Her voice dripped with contempt. “Hypocrite.”
“That’s not the word I’d use.”
“The word you’d use isn’t suitable for polite company.” She reached over to rest her hand on his thigh. The heat of her palm seeped through his jeans, grounding him. “What are you going to do?”
“Call a Council meeting. Present the evidence. Let him condemn himself.”
“And if he doesn’t? If he denies everything?”
He bared his fangs, his wolf’s savage instincts rising to the surface. The road ahead was dark, winding up into the trees. Into his territory.
“Then I challenge him. Alpha’s prerogative. He’s accused me of being unfit to lead. I have every right to answer that accusation directly.”
“You mean fight him.”
“I mean end him.”
She was quiet for a long moment. The hum of the engine filled the silence.
“Is that what you want?” she asked finally. “To kill him?”
“Want?” He forced himself to consider the question. The wolf wanted it. The wolf wanted to tear and rend. But the man? “I don’t know. My father considered him a friend. Before this, he served the pack faithfully. But he’s also threatened everything I’m trying to build. He threatened you, even if only indirectly.” His jaw set. “If it comes to it, I won’t hesitate.”
“I know.” She squeezed his thigh gently. “It’s just… I’ve never been part of something like this before. Politics back home meant passive-aggressive emails and stolen parking spaces. Not literal fights to the death.”
“Having second thoughts?”
“About you? Never.” Her voice was firm, resonant with the bond. “About werewolf conflict resolution? Maybe a little. But I knew what I was signing up for.”
“Did you?”
“I did my research.” A hint of her usual tartness crept into her tone. “I’m very thorough.”
He laughed despite himself—a short, surprised sound. “Of course you did.”
“Three separate databases. Four academic papers. And a very disturbing Reddit thread that I’m choosing to believe was fictional.”
“I don’t want to know.”
“You really don’t.”
They lapsed into comfortable silence again. Outside, the landscape shifted from rolling hills to the dense, primal forest of the Moonstone lands. The air coming through the vents changed, growing crisp and pine-scented.
Home.
“Thank you,” he said quietly.
“For what?”
“For being here. For not running when you learned what he’d done. For…” He struggled to find words for the tangle of emotions in his chest. “For being exactly what I need, even when I didn’t know I needed it.”
Her hand found his where it rested on the gear shift, interlacing their fingers.
“Same,” she said simply.
The mountains rose ahead of them, dark green and ancient, guarding secrets older than memory. Somewhere in those peaks, a traitor waited in a cabin with a satellite dish. A reckoning loomed. But as Julian drove into the dark, feeling the bond hum between them like a live wire, he knew he was ready.
He wasn’t just an Alpha anymore. He was a mate. And God help anyone who tried to take that from him.