Her Grumpy Alpha Mate (Ironfang Shifters #3)

Chapter 1 GRANT

GRANT

The storm hit without warning.

I watch through the restaurant's floor-to-ceiling windows as sheets of rain hammer the empty street, each drop exploding against the glass like bullets. The weather matches my mood perfectly—dark, violent, and unpredictable.

Across from me, Luther's hands shake as he grips his coffee cup. The alpha who'd strutted into Mrs. Chen's private dining room an hour ago now looks like a man facing execution. Good. He should be afraid.

"You're not listening to me, Grant." Luther's voice cracks on my name. "This isn't a request anymore. My pack is dying out there. The hunters—"

"The hunters are exactly why you're in this mess." I lean back in my chair, letting my alpha presence fill the space between us. The temperature in the room seems to drop ten degrees. "You got sloppy. You got careless. Now you want me to clean up your mistakes."

Luther's tie has come completely undone, hanging around his neck like a noose. Sweat beads on his forehead despite the restaurant's air conditioning. "I'm not asking for charity. I have something you want."

My blood goes cold. "I'm listening."

"Information." He slides a manila envelope across the table. "About the hunters. Their new tactics. Where they're heading next."

I don't touch the envelope. "Keep talking."

"They're organized now, Grant. Really organized. Not just random groups picking off lone wolves anymore." Luther's voice drops to a whisper. "They have a list. Pack territories. Alpha names. They know about the IronFang offices."

The chair creaks under my weight as I lean forward. Every instinct I have is screaming danger. "How do you know this?"

"Because we captured one." Luther's eyes are wild now, desperate. "Before they killed my beta. Before they burned our safe house. The hunter told us everything before he died."

I study Luther's face, reading the truth in every micro-expression. He's not lying. The sick feeling in my gut confirms what I already suspected—this conversation just became about survival, not territory disputes.

"You should have led with that information." I reach for the envelope, my fingers brushing the manila surface. Inside could be the intelligence that saves my pack. Or gets us all killed.

"I need your protection first," Luther insists. "Your word that you'll give my people sanctuary on IronFang land."

"You're in no position to make demands."

"Neither are you." For the first time since he arrived, Luther meets my eyes without flinching. "Because they're coming for you next, Grant. Soon."

The words hit me like a physical blow. I've spent months tracking hunter movements, staying one step ahead. But if they have detailed intelligence on pack locations...

"You have until midnight to get your people to the western border of my territory," I tell him, standing abruptly. "After that, you're on your own."

Relief floods Luther's face. "Thank you. I won't forget this."

"See that you don't." I tuck the envelope inside my jacket. "Because if this information is wrong, or if this is some elaborate setup, I'll hunt you down myself. And Luther?" I lean close enough that he can feel my breath on his ear. "I won't be as merciful as the hunters."

I leave him there, shaking in his chair, and walk toward the restaurant's exit. Mrs. Chen intercepts me near the door, her usual smile replaced by concern.

"Everything alright?" she asks, glancing back at Luther's pale form.

"Just business." I place a hand on her shoulder, drawing comfort from her maternal warmth. Mrs. Chen has been like family to me for years—one of the few humans who knows exactly what I am and doesn't flinch. "How are you holding up? With all the strange stories in the news lately?"

She shrugs, but I catch the worry in her eyes. "People talk about missing hikers, animal attacks. Makes an old woman nervous, you know?"

"This world has never been safe for people like me," I tell her. "But I promise you—I won't let anything happen to you or yours."

Mrs. Chen nods, squeezing my arm before heading back inside. I push through the glass doors and step into the storm.

The rain hits me like an icy slap, immediately soaking through my jacket. The street is deserted except for the occasional car speeding through puddles, their headlights cutting through the gloom like searchlights.

I should call Graham and Nate immediately. Should get back to the office and start planning our defenses. Should do a dozen things that an alpha does when his pack is threatened.

Instead, I find myself walking.

Something's been wrong with me for weeks now. A restlessness I can't shake, like an itch between my shoulder blades that I can't reach. Sleep comes in fragments, interrupted by dreams I can't remember but that leave me aching with longing for something I've never had.

My ex-wife used to say I was broken. Maybe she was right.

The rain pounds harder, turning the sidewalk into a river. I'm six blocks from the IronFang building now, my dress shoes squelching with each step. Most people would call this insanity. I call it thinking time.

That's when I see her.

A figure about a block ahead, walking without an umbrella just like me. Even through the downpour, I can tell she's struggling against the wind. Something about her movement—graceful but determined—makes me slow my pace.

A car appears out of nowhere, racing down the flooded street at dangerous speed. I open my mouth to shout a warning, but I'm too far away. The vehicle hits a massive puddle just as it passes the woman.

The wall of water that erupts is biblical.

She goes down hard, disappearing completely behind the spray. My body moves before my mind catches up, legs pumping as I sprint toward her. The scent hits me when I'm still fifty feet away—something wild and clean and utterly intoxicating.

Wolf. She's a wolf.

But there's something else, something that makes my chest tighten and my heart race. Something that tastes like lightning and feels like coming home.

She's struggling to her feet when the second car appears, moving just as fast as the first. Its headlights sweep across her disoriented form, and I realize with crystal clarity that she's about to stumble directly into its path.

Time slows to a crawl.

I can see every droplet of rain suspended in the air. Can hear my own heartbeat thundering in my ears. Can smell her terror mixing with something sweeter—something that calls to every primal instinct I possess.

"Watch out!" The words tear from my throat as I launch myself forward.

I hit her at full speed, wrapping my arms around her waist and rolling us both away from the street. We land hard on the sidewalk, her body pressed against mine, and the world explodes into sensation.

She's warm despite the rain. Soft curves and lean muscle and skin that smells like summer storms. Her dark hair is plastered to her face, and when she opens her eyes to look at me, I forget how to breathe.

Gray. Her eyes are the exact color of the storm clouds above us, and they're staring into mine with an intensity that makes my wolf side howl with recognition.

Mine. The word echoes through every cell in my body. Mine, mine, mine.

She's young—maybe twenty years younger than me—with a face that could launch wars. But it's not her beauty that has me paralyzed. It's the way she's looking at me, like she's seeing something impossible. Like she's feeling the same electric shock that's currently rewiring my nervous system.

"You—you saved me." Her voice is soft, breathless. She reaches up as if to touch my face, and I have to use every ounce of willpower not to lean into her palm.

Instead, I force myself to move away, to put distance between us before I do something catastrophically stupid. Like kiss her. Like claim her right here on the rain-soaked sidewalk.

The moment I break contact, the loss hits me like a physical blow. Everything in me screams to reach for her again, to pull her back against me where she belongs.

Where she belongs? Christ, I don't even know her name.

"What's your name?" she calls out as I struggle to my feet.

I should answer. Should at least make sure she's not injured. Should act like a decent human being instead of a wild animal spooked by his own shadow.

Instead, I turn and walk away.

But with every step, the pull gets stronger. The need to go back, to find her, to protect her from whatever dangers might be lurking in the storm.

It takes everything I have to keep moving forward, to not spin around and claim what my wolf is insisting belongs to me.

I've felt desire before. Lust. Even love, back when I was naive enough to believe in it.

This is something else entirely. Something that feels like destiny and tastes like forever.

Something that terrifies me more than any hunter ever could.

By the time I reach the IronFang building, I'm soaked to the skin and shaking—though whether from cold or adrenaline, I can't tell. The lobby falls silent as I enter, water dripping from my clothes onto the polished marble floor.

Some employees recognize their CEO and quickly look away. Others stare openly at the strange man who apparently decided to go swimming in his business suit.

I ignore them all and head straight for the elevator.

My penthouse office feels like a sanctuary after the chaos of the storm. Floor-to-ceiling windows offer a panoramic view of the city, and I stand before them now, watching lightning fracture the sky.

She's still out there somewhere. The woman with storm-cloud eyes and a scent that's already burned itself into my memory. I could find her if I wanted to. My wolf senses are strong enough to track her across the city.

The smart thing would be to forget her entirely. I have enough complications in my life without adding a mysterious young wolf to the mix. Especially now, with hunters potentially closing in on my territory.

My phone buzzes with an incoming call. Graham's name flashes on the screen.

"Grant? Thank God. We've been trying to reach you for an hour."