Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Three days later, Harper was driving up into the mountains, into Moonstone territory, winding through progressively smaller roads until the pavement gave way to gravel and the gravel gave way to something that she suspected was just packed dirt with delusions of grandeur.
Her rental car—a sensible hybrid that the agency had promised was “great for mountain terrain,” which was clearly a lie—shuddered over a particularly aggressive pothole, and she white-knuckled the steering wheel while her laptop bag bounced ominously in the passenger seat.
“This is fine,” she told herself. “This is totally fine. This is character building.”
The trees had closed in about an hour ago, towering pines that blocked out most of the afternoon sun and made the forest feel ancient and watching.
She had never been particularly outdoorsy, but even she could admit there was something almost magical about the way the light filtered through the branches, dappling the road with shadows that seemed to move when she wasn’t looking directly at them.
Werewolf territory, she reminded herself. The shadows are probably actual werewolves.
The thought should have been more alarming than it was.
Her GPS had given up the ghost about thirty minutes back, the pleasant automated voice announcing “your destination is on the left” while pointing at a cliff face, and then falling silent entirely.
Now she was navigating by the increasingly vague directions Derek had texted her after she’d sent him a panicked text.
Turn at the big rock that looks like a sleeping bear.
Cross the creek but only at the shallow part.
When you see the carved wolf’s head, you’re almost there.
She’d eventually found the rock (which looked nothing like a bear and everything like a big rock), navigated the creek (which had no obvious shallow part and had required her to simply gun it and pray), and was now searching for the carved wolf’s head with increasing desperation.
“If I die out here,” she muttered, “I’m haunting Derek’s stock portfolio.”
The dirt road suddenly emerged onto an actual paved road, narrow but well-maintained, and she nearly wept with relief.
A few minutes later, she entered a tiny village with some rustic looking shops and a couple of small stores.
The carved wolf’s head was on a post next to a general store and she sighed as she saw another dirt road on the other side of a rickety bridge.
The road led up through more of the magnificent trees before emerging into a clearing that took her breath away.
The Moonstone pack compound spread before her—a collection of rustic buildings arranged around a central lodge that looked like it had grown organically from the mountain itself.
Smoke curled from multiple chimneys. Children ran between buildings, their laughter carrying on the crisp mountain air.
A group of wolves—actual wolves, enormous and beautiful—lounged in a patch of sunlight near the main entrance.
It was like driving into a fairy tale. A very large, very intimidating fairy tale populated by creatures that could probably eat her car if they were feeling peckish.
She pulled up in front of the main lodge and parked, her hands trembling slightly as she turned off the engine. Through her windshield, she could see pack members pausing in their activities to stare at her vehicle. At her.
You’re here for work, she reminded herself. Professional. Capable. You’ve rebuilt entire network infrastructures from scratch. You’ve tracked down hackers across three continents. You can handle some werewolves.
She grabbed her laptop bag, squared her shoulders, and stepped out of the car.
The scent hit her first—pine and wood smoke with an underlying musk. She could hear birdsong and the faint sound of conversation but underneath it was a profound stillness, not the constant hum of a city life.
She clutched her laptop bag like a shield and started towards the lodge entrance.
She made it approximately ten steps before Adrian appeared.
He came through the main doors like he’d been waiting for her, like he’d somehow known the exact moment she’d arrive and had timed his entrance for maximum dramatic impact.
He was wearing dark green flannel, the sleeves rolled up to expose forearms that looked capable of snapping trees, and jeans that had clearly seen actual labor.
Faded jeans that clung to thick muscular thighs and…
She forced her gaze back up to his face.
A mistake. His expression was completely unreadable, but those golden-brown eyes were focused on her with an intensity that made the air crackle.
His hair was slightly damp, as if he’d recently showered, and that forest-after-rain scent washed over her, stronger and more potent than it had been in the hallway.
“Ms. Bailey.” He said her name the same way he had before—a command, a claim, the word vibrating through her entire body. “You’re late.”
She blinked. “I’m—what?”
“Derek said you’d arrive by two. It’s nearly four.”
“I didn’t know I was on a deadline,” she snapped. “Or that my GPS wouldn’t work. Or that I’d need to find a rock that looked nothing like a bear!”
Something suspiciously like amusement flickered in his eyes. “It looks exactly like a bear. Everyone says so.”
“Everyone is wrong. It looks like a rock. A big, rock-shaped rock.”
“Perhaps your eyes need checking.”
“My eyes are—” she stopped, aware that she was standing in the middle of a werewolf compound, arguing about rock morphology with an alpha who could probably crush her with his pinky finger. “Never mind. I’m here now. Where should I set up?”
His gaze swept over her again, slow and deliberate, and she fought the urge to squirm.
She was wearing her work uniform—a faded t-shirt for a long-defunct synth band, ripped black jeans, and her combat boots.
She’d thought it was a perfectly reasonable outfit for a four-hour car ride.
Now, under his scrutiny, she felt like a child who’d worn a unicorn costume to a black-tie gala—except the way his eyes lingered on the bare slivers of skin beneath her jeans didn’t feel judgmental. It felt… proprietary.
“This way,” he said abruptly, turning and stalking back into the lodge without checking to see if she followed.
She hurried to keep up, her boots thumping softly on the wooden porch.
The lodge doors opened into a large entry hall with an enormous antler chandelier high above them.
To one side was a massive dining room with a table that could easily seat twenty people.
One other side was a living room dominated by a massive stone fireplace, its hearth big enough to stand in.
Comfortable-looking furniture was arranged in cozy conversation areas.
It was warm and comfortable. It was also the exact opposite of the sterile, controlled environments she was used to working in.
A group of wolves were gathered near the fireplace—five men, all large, all radiating that same dangerous energy as Adrian. Their conversation died the moment she stepped into the hallway. Five pairs of assessing eyes locked onto her, expressions ranging from hostile to merely suspicious.
Adrian stopped at the entrance to the room, and she nearly ran into his back. “This is Harper Bailey,” he announced to the room at large. “She’s from TalkToMe. She’ll be updating our technology systems.”
The silence stretched, thin and taut. A tall, older wolf with a scar cutting through one eyebrow and a scowl etched permanently onto his face stepped forward. His eyes were a flat, unfriendly grey.
“Human?” he asked, his voice a low growl. He looked at her as if she were something unpleasant he’d stepped in. “You brought a human into our home to play with our technology?”
The sheer hostility in his tone made her shoulders tighten. Her fingers itched for her keyboard, her one reliable weapon. In her world, problems were solved with logic and code, not by glaring contests with oversized men who looked like they wrestled bears for fun.
“Her work will benefit the entire pack, Elder Howard,” Adrian said, his voice quiet but infused with a power that even she could feel. “You will treat her with respect.”
Elder Howard’s jaw tightened, but he took a small step back. “Forgive me, Alpha. I was simply expressing concern for our security.”
“Your concern is noted.” Adrian turned to lead her down the hallway towards the back of the house. “My office is—”
“Wait.” She stopped walking. “Your office? Why do I need to know where your office is?”
He turned to face her. In the narrower confines of the hallway, his presence felt even more overwhelming—she had to crane her neck to meet his eyes, and that earthy, intoxicating scent she remembered from their first encounter wrapped around her like smoke.
“Because that’s where you’ll be working.”
Her brain stuttered. “Excuse me?”
“Derek informed me you’d need a secure location with reliable power and a wired internet connection.
” His expression was utterly neutral, utterly unreadable.
“My office is the only room in the compound that meets those specifications. You’ll have a desk, access to the existing network infrastructure, and sufficient space for your equipment. ”
“In your office.”
“In my office.”
“Where you… also work.”
“Where I also work.” Was that amusement in his voice? She couldn’t tell. “Unless you have some objection?”
A thousand objections, she thought wildly. Starting with the fact that I can barely think when you’re in the same hallway as me, and you want me to share a workspace with you for two months?
“I need privacy,” she heard herself say, her voice annoyingly high. “Cybersecurity work requires concentration. Minimal distractions. I can’t build you a secure network if I’m being interrupted every five minutes.”
“There will be no interruptions. My office is soundproofed, and the pack knows not to disturb me when the door is closed.”