[Blackthorn Enterprise—Riven's Office]
Riven hadn't sat on his desk since he entered his office. He stood near the glass wall of his office with hands clasped behind his back.
When his assistant entered, he hesitated before speaking.
"Sir, the victim is—."
"Human employee, finance department." Riven didn't turn. "I know."
"Yes." The assistant swallowed. "Ethan Morris, thirty-four. He doesn't have any prior incidents, a clean record."
Riven nodded once. "Cause of death?"
The assistant tapped the tablet in his hands. "Officially, still under investigation."
Riven finally looked at him.
"Unofficially."
The assistant exhaled and stepped closer, angling the tablet so Riven could see.
The first image filled the screen.
A narrow alley, wet pavement reflecting a broken streetlight and the body lying twisted unnaturally, limbs positioned wrong in a way that suggested speed, too much speed.
Riven's gaze sharpened.
"Zoom."
The assistant complied.
The marks that marred the man's torso were deep. It wasn't clean cuts but not sloppy either. They were too precise to be random and way too forceful to be human.
Riven's jaw tightened.
"Animal?" he asked flatly.
The assistant shook his head. "No signs of struggle, no defensive wounds and the bite radius—" He hesitated. "Doesn't match any known animal pattern."
Riven's eyes lingered on the image longer than necessary.
"Time of death?"
"Late evening between nine and ten."
Riven thought of the city streets, the timing and the location.
"Security footage?"
"Nothing usable. Cameras in that section went dark for six minutes."
Riven's fingers flexed once.
"Convenient."
"Yes, sir."
The assistant cleared his throat. "There is more."
When he looked up, the assistant continued, "The packs are asking questions. Word is spreading and some are worried this will be blamed on us."
"And the humans?" Riven asked.
"They are nervous," the assistant admitted. "Some are asking for reassignment and others are watching their coworkers more closely."
Riven turned back to the window.
Civilized coexistence was a fragile thing. It relied on rules, restraint and the shared lie that everyone was safe.
And this incident threatened all of it.
"The Alphas want a meeting," the assistant continued. "They are requesting an internal council tonight, if possible."
Riven was quiet for a moment.
"Set it up," he said finally. "It should be a neutral ground, no accusations and no conclusions."
"Yes, sir."
The assistant hesitated again. "Should we inform the alpha?"
"No," Riven cut in smoothly. "Not yet."
He turned, his expression unreadable now.
"We gather information before telling him."
The assistant nodded and left quickly, the door sealing shut behind him.
Riven remained where he was. His gaze drifted back to the frozen image burned into his mind.
This wasn't chaos or mistake, it didn't look like one.
This was intent and whatever had done this hadn't made a mistake.
….
[Rogan's Apartment]
Rogan was rinsing a mug when someone knocked at the door.
He dried his hands slowly before opening the door.
Alpha Jerold stood in the hallway, his presence filling the narrow space in a way that had nothing to do with size. His expression was calm and controlled, leadership worn like second skin.
"Rogan," Jerold greeted.
"Alpha," Rogan replied, stepping aside.
Jerold entered but didn't sit. He moved toward the window, his gaze briefly scanning the street below before turning back.
"You have heard about the incident," Jerold said.
Rogan nodded. "Yes."
"A human employee," Jerold continued. "From Blackthorn Enterprises."
Rogan said nothing.
"There is a meeting tonight," Jerold said after a pause. "The packs are being called in and I will need you with me."
Rogan met his eyes. "As your second?"
Jerold inclined his head. "Yes."
Rogan agreed without hesitation. "I will be there."
Jerold's gaze softened slightly, approval flickering through his otherwise unreadable expression.
Then, almost as an afterthought, he asked, "How is Lyra?"
Rogan's shoulders tensed, just a fraction.
"She is fine," he replied. "Why?"
"I heard she joined Blackthorn Enterprises," Jerold said calmly.
Rogan didn't deny it. "She did."
Jerold studied him for a long moment, weighing something unsaid. Then he nodded once.
"Tell her to be careful," he said. "This city is unsettled and wolves like Lyra are at risk."
He moved closed. "Every creature considers the unshifted ones as weak and vulnerable. If there is really someone out there trying to disturb the equilibrium and threaten us, they will come for the weak ones first."
Rogan's jaw tightened, tension visible. "I will ask her to be careful."
Jerold didn't linger. He turned toward the door, pausing only to add, "We will leave together tonight."
When the door closed, the apartment felt too quiet.
Rogan stayed where he was.
His thoughts drifted back to the night before, the shortcut Lyra had taken, the narrow alley she shouldn't have used and the way the air had shifted the moment he stepped into it.
He could still feel it if he focused.
That presence wasn't frantic or careless, it was deliberate.
Rogan exhaled slowly as dread settled deep in his chest.
A human was dead and somewhere out there, something had crossed a line.
And Lyra had been there, too close.
His gut was telling him that it wasn't a coincidence but a warning.
….