Jayme POV:
Three days later, I was in France.
My old agent, Sarah—a human oblivious to wolves—found me a gig. Indie film, lavender fields of Provence. Far enough from the Blood Moon that I could breathe without my lungs aching.
I was unpacking in a cramped hotel room when my new burner phone rang. Blocked number.
"Hello?"
"Where are you?"
The voice was a bucket of ice water. Autry.
"Why are you calling?"
"I asked a question, Jayme!" His voice deepened into the Alpha Command . It used to make my knees buckle. Tell me where you are!
I waited for the compulsion.
Nothing.
The rejection had severed the neurological hook. His voice was just... loud.
"I don't have to answer you," I smiled. "You have no power here."
"Jayme, listen," he sounded panicked. "The council is asking questions. They know you're gone. I need you to sign some NDAs. Just come back for a day."
"Send them to my lawyer," I said. "Oh wait, you fired him. Goodbye, Mr. Villarreal."
I hung up and snapped the SIM card in half.
Downstairs, the crew was gathering.
"Ah, the mysterious beauty!"
A man walked toward me. Tall, messy blonde hair, ocean eyes. T-shirt and jeans, but he moved with the lazy confidence of a predator.
"I'm Kenan," he extended a hand. "Director."
I shook it.
Zap.
Static electricity, warm and pleasant, jumped between us.
And then the scent hit me.
Pine needles. Sea salt. Old parchment.
It was a balm to my frayed nerves. My wolf stirred from her coma, lifting her head to purr.
"I'm Jayme," I breathed.
Kenan held my hand too long. His pupils dilated. He was a wolf. A strong one.
"You have sad eyes, Jayme," he said softly. "Perfect for this role."
We went to the fields. Work was a distraction. Until the wind changed.
Thwup-thwup-thwup.
A sleek black helicopter crested the ridge, bearing the Blood Moon logo. It landed, flattening the lavender.
Autry stepped out. Dark suit, sunglasses, holding red roses like a grim reaper with a guilty conscience.
He ignored the shouting crew and locked onto me.
"Jayme!" he yelled over the rotors. "Get in the chopper. We're going home."
