Silvercrest City rose beneath the clouds like a kingdom carved from steel and ambition. Neon reflections glimmered off the river, skyscrapers pierced the sky, and the streets hummed with restless life - human and wolf alike.
Lauretta Owens stepped out of the airport terminal, her red coat flaring behind her like a cape. She inhaled the air of her birth city - crisp, electric, tinged with the faintest scent of pine and moonlight. The scent of a place that remembered her family... and had not forgiven them.
She straightened her shoulders. Let the city remember all it wanted. She was not the same girl who left in shame.
She was a CEO now.
She was powerful.
She was dangerous.
And she had a secret blooming in her belly she wasn't ready to name.
---
LuneArt Studios
The elevator doors opened to the top floor of LuneArt Studios, her artistic empire - modern black marble floors, illuminated moon-themed sculptures, walls showcasing rotating exhibitions. The place felt alive, pulsing with the creativity she commanded.
Her employees immediately straightened. Even the air seemed to tighten under her dominance.
"M-Ms. Owens!" her assistant, Mara, stumbled forward, holding a tablet and a triple-shot latte like they were holy offerings. "Welcome back! We weren't expecting you this early!"
"I don't like being predictable," Lauretta replied, slipping out of her coat.
Mara nodded frantically. "I'll alert the team! And your best friend has called - five times."
Lauretta sighed. "Let me guess - she said it's urgent?"
"She said," Mara cleared her throat and imitated Angela perfectly, "'Tell that woman to call me back before I break into her office with pastries and violence.'"
Lauretta actually laughed. "Sounds like her."
---
Inside her private office - all glass walls, clean lines, city skyline - Lauretta finally allowed herself a moment to breathe.
Except her mind wasn't quiet.
Her fingers drifted subconsciously to her neck, remembering Savior Hunt's breath on her skin. His hands gripping her hips. His voice whispering her name as if he owned it.
She clenched her jaw.
She did NOT have time for this.
She was here to rebuild her family's reputation.
She was here to lead an empire.
She was NOT here thinking about a man she'd known for only a few hours.
...even if those hours still pulsed under her skin.
What have you done Savior?
Her phone buzzed. Angela. Again.
Lauretta groaned and answered. "If this is about brunch-"
"Don't you dare," Angela snapped. "Lauretta Owens, don't play with me. You think you can disappear for a whole weekend and act like you didn't leave a piece of your soul in Manhattan?"
Lauretta rolled her eyes. "You're being dramatic."
"Oh, am I?" Angela hissed. "Let me refresh your memory, Miss Selective Amnesia. You called me at two in the morning whispering - WHISPERING - about some man named Savior Hunt!"
Lauretta slapped a hand over her face. "Angela-"
"No, no, shut up. I'm not finished." Angela inhaled deeply like she was preparing for battle. "You described him like he was carved by the moon goddess herself. You said he smelled like firewood, whiskey, and sin-"
"I did not."
"You did! And I quote: 'Angela, his voice alone could get me pregnant.'"
Lauretta sank into her chair, mortified. "Okay, that sounds like me."
Angela cackled. "So who is this man? Where does he live? Do I need to stalk his social media?"
"There is NO social media to stalk," Lauretta snapped. "I checked."
"Oh my god, you checked?!"
Lauretta froze.
Angela screamed, "YOU'RE OBSESSED!"
"I am NOT obsessed."
"You are! You looked for him online! This is phase three obsession!"
Lauretta groaned. "Angela, it was one night. I went to that club with a mission, and he happened to fit the criteria."
"And the criteria was what? Hot, intimidating, and guaranteed to make your knees tremble?"
Lauretta glared at the wall. "I needed a baby, remember? You told me to just... find someone suitable."
"Yes, but I didn't say find a man so fine he'd haunt your dreams AND your hormones."
Lauretta said nothing.
Which only encouraged Angela.
"So?"
"So what?"
Angela grinned through the phone. "So when's the second round?"
"There isn't going to be a second round."
Angela scoffed. "Mhmm. And I'm the queen of France. Girl, your wolf has been pacing since last night."
Lauretta closed her eyes. Because yes - her wolf was pacing.
Restless.
Agitated.
Searching.
But she wasn't about to admit that.
"I have work to do."
"You can ignore it now but not for long" Angela laughed like a villain. "Call me later, Lovergirl."
She hung up before Lauretta could protest.
---
The Pull
The day rolled on - meetings, deadlines, two gallery arguments, and a designer crying because gold paint looked "too gold." Lauretta handled it all with precision and ice.
But every quiet moment felt invaded by memories of Savior.
His heat.
His hands.
His scent.
The way her wolf reacted to him - not just attracted but recognizing.
"You really need to chill out" she mutters to her wolf.
"If I need a man to warm my bed I can always find one "
"Nothing special about him "
By evening, the office was empty except for her.
She exhaled slowly... then suddenly winced.
A wave of nausea.
Followed by heat spiraling through her blood.
Then - a tug.
A warm, magnetic tug deep inside her body.
Lauretta pressed a hand to her abdomen.
"...no."
But another pulse answered under her palm.
Soft.
Alive.
Her breath hitched. Her eyes widened.
"Oh my god..."
She wasn't imagining it.
The connection was real.
She was pregnant.
Already.
Her wolf hummed in satisfaction.
Lauretta stared at the floor, stunned and speechless.
She had wanted this.
She had planned for this.
But the reality - the immediacy - the intensity - shook her.
Savior Hunt's child.
No.
Mine.
Her chest tightened.
Her throat warmed.
And she whispered to the empty office:
"...this is insane."
"Though I wanted it, I wasn't expecting it to be this fast"
She stares at the air.
---
Across the City
At that exact moment, in a high-rise suite on the opposite side of Silvercrest, Savior Hunt jolted awake at his desk.
His heart hammered.
His wolf snarled.
He pressed a hand to his chest, breathing hard.
Something had changed.
Something vital.
"Damn it," he whispered. "What are you doing to me, Lauretta Owens?"
He had no idea where she was now.
No way to reach her.
Not even her last name.
But he could feel her.
In his blood.
In his bones.
In every restless breath.
He leaned back, staring at the moon through the window - silver, sharp, unforgiving.
And he knew one thing with absolute certainty:
Their night wasn't over.
Their story hadn't even begun.
