The Wolf Prince’s Fated Heart (Fated Mates of the Royal Wolf Court)

1. CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 1

Graham

The peace between the two species is a fragile thing. I'd hate to be the one responsible for its ending.

It's been five years since the end of the war, and yet, there are many people on both sides who would prefer to keep fighting.

"Mr. Grey," the voice of my human secretary comes from behind me.

She took care not to startle me, but I heard her coming from the moment she pushed her chair away from the desk. The heavy paper, carrying the scent of sun and dust, starts to crumple in my hand. Her fears, which I can almost sense in the air around her, are subtly confirmed by the action.

I clench my hands into fists to hide my claws and take a deep breath, forcing my nerves to settle. Now is not the time for her to find out that her boss isn't human.

She holds her position at the door.

"Come in, Harper," I say, without turning around.

The door creaks. "Is it true what they're saying?"

I want to snarl. With her computer, Harper undoubtedly can track most gossip around the firm. It would seem my ears aren't the only thing warning me she's around. I remain silent. I'm already on the verge of losing everything I've worked so hard for.

"It's true, then? Someone has hacked our software..." Her words linger in the air, caught between disgust and fear.

How does she know? my inner wolf questions.

It's been a little more than a week since I first saw evidence of a glitch in a small section of our code. The facial recognition software my company developed for the military to hunt down criminals is extremely sensitive. If it continues being used by unauthorized sources, we risk getting shut down.

I sigh. "Sit down, Harper."

I turn just enough to watch her short legs scurry to the chair. Silly mouse of a woman.

Tired of waiting, I close the file and put it back in the drawer.

Harper asks, 'Who could it be?'

This is the crucial part—who's responsible? If I knew where to begin, I’d already have my culprit.

I turn and meet Harper’s clouded gaze.

“Let me worry about it," I tell her. "Do you mind telling me about the rest of the rumors you heard?"

Are we sure we want to handle this right now? my wolf asks me.

Harper takes a deep breath and wrings her hands.

Her dark ponytail hangs like a tail from the top of her head. Her skin looks grey beneath the white-greenish light reflecting off the many screens in the room. The flickering white lights slightly hurt mine. Like all wolves, I possess strong sight. But humans aren't as sensitive to the little things as we are.

"I don't know anything concrete," she says.

"That's why they're called rumors and not facts." My growling voice sounds odd when I force it to be calm. Worse, it seems to make her even more wary of me.

Harper doesn't shy away, but she is extremely eager to please. Too much so. She bites her bottom lip and makes herself look away from me.

"Harper," I say, trying to sound gentle. "If I am to locate the leak, I need to know what the rumors are saying. You know, the same as I do, that every lie has a grain of truth in it."

Her knee begins bouncing. Her toes are wrapped in a pair of mint green flats, which are almost as blinding as the screens.

I ignore how her perfume, clean and generic, adds to my sensitivity in this room, and force myself to wait. It's not that I dislike my secretary. She’s never come close enough for me to form an opinion.

But I do find it hard to remain civil with anyone who is keeping things from me. And she is hiding something. That is evident by the way she continually refuses to look me in the eye.

"Harper!" I bark, my patience running out.

Calm the fuck down, my wolf warns.

She flinches, looks up, then closes her mouth. When she remains still, frozen in place, my next word sounds particularly sinister.

"Harper."

She starts, her huge green eyes rounding and her chin going up as if I held her neck, showing her what it means when a human shows her throat to a wolf. It wouldn't be her fault. It's ingrained in her genes. A response as old as humans that were afraid of being chased by predators.

Us.

This, too, is proof. Things between species aren't as peaceful as we are trying to believe.

"Some of the people on the third floor mentioned," she starts, with a trembling voice, "that last week, one of the employees left and said..."

She doesn't finish.

I remain quiet, waiting, giving her the chance to tell me what she has heard instead of giving her a reason to feel pressured.

She needs more encouragement.

"Yesterday," I admit, sounding defeated. "There was an organized attack on a small group of people who are believed to be located with the help of our facial recognition software."

I've been working on F-Rec, which is short for Facial Recognition software, for most of my life. I never intended it to be used as a weapon to kill the innocents.

When writing the software, I hoped people would use it to locate kidnapped children, fugitive criminals, find serial killers, and keep all species safe. But now, someone used my software to kill a family of wolves. It makes my blood boil.

Watching Harper's unblinking stare, I stand up, so she can see I'm not angry at her for uncovering the lies. Angry, yes, that she thought about it and came to me even before getting the confirmation of the facts. But mostly, I'm furious with myself. That I let this happen.

How can I care about my employees when my species may be dying because of me?

I pace the small, white space. The mechanized curtains are drawn open, and outside, the sky is clear. It has been a while since I've looked beyond the glass wall.

It's...captivating. Maybe it's time I stopped isolating myself. Ever since the war’s ended and the witches aren't openly trying to kill us, I can look outside more often.

My eyes itch, so I shake my head and focus. My job is to make sure my software is used for good and not to start another war.

"What's the other rumor, Harper?" I ask again, letting the weariness in my soul come through.

You shouldn't poke the sleeping bear; my wolf says with an exaggerated sigh.

She blinks and, finally, opens her mouth.

"People are saying that Grey Tech is run by wolves and that they keep us, humans, around as their playthings," she says quietly, pulling at a loose string on her mustard yellow skirt. She forces an awkward chuckle. "Of course, I know that's not true. Wolves and witches don't exist."

She doesn't appear to believe her own words.

The truth stares at me from a small pile of glossy newspaper sheets in the trash, the headlines asking and answering many questions about the possibility of the creatures existing. The threat of a reveal is bigger than ever.

Neither species wants to confirm their existence to humans. They're simply too destructive. No one wants to paint a target on their back big enough that even humans would hit.

I shake my head and lean back against the huge window wall that allows me to see for miles. Forcing my hand not to flex into claws or a fist, I concentrate on being calm. Being calm is a good thing when you're the CEO of a giant corporation, yes. It's always in the best interest of the business, family, and pack. Especially for an unattached wolf who doesn't want to look aggressive to the company he's trying to protect.

Today marks the first year since Harper began working for me. We get along well enough, but mostly because we only talk about important matters. She doesn't waste my time with silly things such as office rumors, which is why I'm taking it very seriously that she's here now.

I have to reassure her. If she's convinced that the rumors are just that, she will spread the word around the company which will successfully shut down any further guesses.

"Should we expect Tinker Bell to rent our services to find Peter Pan and the Lost Boys next?" I ask, purposefully mocking her.

A bit over the top, don't you think? my wolf asks.

I need to make her see how ridiculous it is, I shoot back.

Except that it's not, my wolf replies without missing a beat.

Of course, he's right, but I can't just nod my head and confirm the rumors.

From her chair, she just barely manages to reach my shoulders. A very good metaphor for the people's opinions. If I look calm and say the big bad wolf is a joke, they, the little people who can't do anything about it, have to accept the fact that they may have made a mistake. And will hopefully leave the wolves alone.

Harper rubs a hand over her face. "You're laughing," she says, dead serious. "If I didn't know you, I'd be scared of you now."

I want to tell her that she should be. She should be very, very afraid. But not of me. Whether she might believe it or not, I'm actually one of the good wolves. It's the rogue ones she should look over her shoulder for.

If she's not inclined to be afraid of wolves, then she should worry about crossing the witches. They are just as deadly as the biggest of wolves. When with a coven, they are willing to strike directly, but when alone, they transform into poisonous and back-stabbing snakes. Nasty lot.

But they're not our enemies anymore. Not since Helia and Grayden managed to do the impossible. The treaty between our two species is something for the history books.

If Harper decides not to fear either one of those two species, there are always vampires to think about. Nocturnal bloodsuckers tend to run the nightclub scene and as long as they keep their fangs to themselves, no one wants to deal with them.

"I apologize for laughing," I finally say, my voice catching. "I didn't mean any disrespect. It's just that when you say things like that, I can’t help but laugh."

"You sound convincing when you say that," Harper mumbles.

"We should go back to work," I tell her, hoping to get some peace and quiet.

To work. I need to do the important things. Starting with locating the source of the hack before one of those back-stabbing witches points their finger at me and tells the human government we wolves are to blame.

The worst part is that I don't even know which species the radicals come from. Though, this time, they attacked a family of wolves, the time before last, they murdered a coven of witches. So who's to say they're not doing it for attention?

Harper leaves, and the quiet consumes me.

Yes. Back to work. It's as simple as that.

There has to be an individual. A person to give me answers.

In times like these, one can always count on family.

I take my phone and dial Grayden's number.

"Little brother," he answers after the second ring. His voice is strained. "What can I do for you?"

"I need to talk to you," I say, skipping the pleasantries. "How soon can you be in my office?"

No doubt sensing the urgency in my voice, Grayden clears his throat. "As a matter of fact, I'm just around the corner visiting Helia at work. I can see you in twenty minutes or so."

"Make it fifteen," I grunt and hang up.

The call makes me feel marginally better. As an ambassador appointed by the wolves, Grayden will know more about the radicals than anyone else. He and his wife Helia, who is also a witch, as well as the ambassador for their species, are determined to keep the peace treaty between the witches and the wolves alive and thriving. That is not an easy job. Even after five years, it remains fragile.

I pace the office. There's no point keeping an eye out the window for my brother's arrival. Grey Tech's headquarters are located in a skyscraper with fifty floors, my office being located at the very top one. To get a view like this one requires lots of money and even more stubbornness to defeat your competitors.

Unlike the humans, who spend their time waiting for the fairies to send a white pumpkin to take them to the ball, the CEOs, stockholders, and lawyers of Grey Tech form a part of different species. I don't care about their origins. I only care about their contributions to the company.

Besides running a business, I am one of the company's top programmers. One cannot build a tech company without knowing their way around a computer.

Without much else to do until Grayden arrives, I sit back in my black leather seat and make sure my screen with an internal cameras' view of my offices is updated. Right now, I watch it intently, so I don't miss it when the elevator doors open to reveal my brother.

The moment they do, I activate the elevator override system and force the elevator to come straight to the top floor. I need to talk to him as soon as possible, and I'm in no mood to wait.

No doubt feeling the jerk of the box, Grayden is aware of what I just did. He looks at the camera and nods. His groomed stubble makes him look older than his thirty-two years. Hell, I'm only two years younger than him, but thanks to my clean-shaven appearance, I look like a baby compared to him.

Grayden makes his way straight to my office. Though Harper hasn't met any of my brothers, the family resemblance will be too strong for her to interfere.

We Grey wolves are known for our dark eyes, black hair, lean physiques, and towering heights. Among our kind, we are one of the most powerful royal families. In fact, not one, but two of my brothers are kings. One by birth and the other by marriage.

Grayden and I are the only ones who have paved our way away from the royalty, though Grayden decided to serve in his own way as a peace ambassador. I had no interest in limiting myself, not when the world was my oyster and there were so many bright minds to help me advance my technology.

While the two other witches, the rest of my brothers and friends, serve in roles of significance, I'm more the lone wolf. I prefer my solitude while designing software.

I remain seated while a smiling Grayden enters. Fear seeps deep into me when I recognize that his smile is forced.

"How bad is it?" I ask, getting straight to the point.

Grayden's nostrils flare. "You know about the attack?"

I nod. The answer to his question is yes, but not nearly enough.

"I need your help," I say through gritted teeth. It's hard for me to admit it, but considering that I helped Grayden save his wife from her murderous twin sister, he owes me. "We're going to share information, but I need you to keep quiet about what I'm about to tell you."

Grayden looks surprised.

He is not used to me asking for help.

In an unusual turn of events, he pulls out a chair and sits in it. The thing creaks under the weight of him.

"You can trust me," he assures me. "Is it about the software?"

Nodding, I take a deep breath. "I've uncovered evidence of a foreign party hack. I'm trying to find out who is behind it. I don't have much to go on, and I'm afraid that I'm going to have to catch them in the act in order to get more information."

He leans back.

"The attacks were done by the radicals," Grayden says. "We don't know which species form it, except that they’re not happy with the treaty. The rumors are that they don't want us mingling. They don't want wolves and witches to have kids together. It's unprecedented. The unknown always seemed to scare the weak and angry."

I chuckle bitterly, understanding their fears too well.

"I've spoken to the human government to assure them that the software is still safe to use," I tell him, referring to the leaders of human societies and the higher-up members of the military. There will always be certain groups that are aware of the existence of various species. It's the only way of keeping the peace. "Since I shared F-Rec with them, we've saved countless lives. I don't want that same software to be responsible for doing bad things."

My intentions for creating the software were pure. But as the humans like to say, no good deed goes unpunished.

"You try to find the leak on your end and figure out who's behind the hack," Grayden tells me and I nod. "I will talk to Garren and Gavin to see if their courts know something we don't. I'll also make sure that the Wolf-Witch Task Force doubles their hours. We have to stop the radicals before they cause too much damage."

"Do we have a death count?" I ask and hold my breath. The information is not necessary for my task, but if my software is responsible for the loss of the lives of innocent people, I need to know what that number is.

Why do you do this to yourself? my wolf asks. It's not like you're killing them yourself.

That doesn't make me any less responsible for their deaths, I reply. The person putting the knife in another person's hands is just as guilty of the damage it does as the person wielding it.

You can be so dramatic , my wolf says, but I sense his agreement and growing anger.

"It's unclear," Grayden replies, but the way he says it makes me think he knows but doesn't want to tell me. "Couldn't we use F-Rec to track the attackers instead?"

"I tried," I admit with barely controlled annoyance. As if that wasn't the first thing I did.

F-Rec is used to get access to the street and surveillance cameras all around the world. If individual businesses and normal people upload their countless videos anywhere on the web, F-Rec finds a way to access them.

It's not always entirely legal and sometimes on the verge of unethical, which is why only a handful of people know about everything it can do. Sometimes the law needs to be bent a little bit to prevent bigger crimes. But still, the fact that the radicals manage to fly under the radar, makes it clear that they have a person on the inside who covers their tracks.

"We'll get to the bottom of it," Grayden assures me as he gets ready to leave.

I nod. I sure hope so.

If we don't, I'm afraid that even my wolf strength won't be enough to carry the weight of all those deaths.

Let me out, my wolf threatens. I'll tear them apart limb by limb.

I growl, forcing myself to calm down, but there's a beast inside of me, and he doesn't like to let go so easily.

And I sure as hell am determined not to let the guilty parties get away.