CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE
CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE
A young woman in her late twenties shifted uneasily in her chair, her dark chestnut hair tied back in a neat ponytail. She fidgeted with her phone as though bracing for someone’s arrival. “Miss, I’ve been waiting for over three hours. When will your boss be here?” she asked, her voice tight with impatience.
Selwyn glanced at the time displayed on her laptop screen, smirking faintly. “My instructions are simple: make you wait. Beyond that, I have no idea when he will arrive.”
Despite the feigned nonchalance, Selwyn felt a flutter of anticipation. Her boss’s presence in the office meant she could finally see the result of her efforts. Yet the thought that he might have come specifically for this woman filled her with unease.
It was an opportune moment for Don Thorne to be around. The casino’s headquarters drew every influential figure, from billionaires to mafia leaders. The woman occupying the secretary’s visitor chair kept checking her wristwatch, shifting nervously. “I need to go. I can’t wait all night,” she muttered, rising and picking up a modest handbag.
Riseh’s brows furrowed. “You’re still interested in the position, aren’t you?” she asked, trying to persuade her to remain without resorting to intimidation—Thorne’s clear instructions. The woman paused, her eyes flickering with uncertainty.
“I do want the job, but it’s getting late,” the young woman—now identified as Elowen—said, fear creeping into her tone. She seemed anxious to leave before something unforeseen occurred.
“This is a night-time position, Elowen. You should have anticipated the hours,” Riseh reminded her, irritation creeping into her voice. It was clear Elowen had underestimated what the job entailed.
“My car broke down,” Elowen replied, forcing a smile. Though eager for employment, she valued her safety above all.
Riseh leaned forward, voice sharp. “If you leave now, my boss will consider it a slight, and you may forfeit the opportunity.”
“I need this job,” Elowen admitted, “but my life comes first. I have to leave.”
As she reached the door, a tall figure emerged, blocking her path. “You’re not leaving,” Ronan said firmly. “My boss is on his way to meet you personally. This interview isn’t over.”
The icy air in the office did little to calm Elowen’s racing heart. Perhaps applying to work in a casino hadn’t been the wisest decision.
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Meanwhile, at Shadowglen Pack, Luna Marcelline grew restless. She had spent hours tending the Moonveil Garden, turning it into her private sanctuary, yet it failed to soothe her spirit. Sitting quietly among fluttering butterflies and chirping birds did not suit her nature. Slipping into her training gear, she headed toward the Nightbloom Trail, determined to push herself physically.
Her last training session with Ryker had emphasized the importance of instinct over strength, especially for climbing the massive oaks along the trail. But Marcelline sought to challenge her human abilities rather than rely on her wolf senses.
The tree’s trunk was rough, tearing at her palms with each grip. By the ninth attempt, her efforts proved futile. Exhausted and frustrated, she sank to the base of the tree, tears slipping down her cheeks. “I’m hopeless,” she whispered. “I can only hope no war breaks out while I’m this weak.”
Sleep came unexpectedly beneath the boughs, lulled by the chirping of birds. When she awoke to the golden light of the mountain breeze, she made her way back to her cottage to shower. As she prepared to undress, a knock sounded at the door, sending her heart racing. Could it be Ryker?
She hurriedly dressed, recalling the late-night visits from both Ryker and Seraphine. Perhaps it was the latter this time.
“Marcelline, where have you been? I came by earlier but couldn’t find you,” Seraphine said, relief in her voice as the door opened.
Marcelline smiled at her friend’s presence, grateful for the company. “I went training in the woods,” she admitted.
Seraphine followed her into the ensuite bedroom, which included both bath and toilet facilities. “I won’t take long,” Marcelline reassured her.
A few minutes later, she returned in pajamas. Seraphine’s gaze immediately softened, noticing the puffiness around her eyes. “Have you been crying?” she asked gently.
Marcelline forced a smile, shaking her head. “No. How’s the pack?” She diverted attention from herself.
Seraphine’s expression brightened. “Peaceful. And I have good news for you.”
Marcelline’s eyes sparked with curiosity. Perhaps Seraphine had located her mate. “Then tell me.”
“Alpha Alaric released the members you supported from the Ironvault Chambers,” Seraphine explained, echoing information relayed by an informant over the phone.
Marcelline stiffened, a frown forming. She hadn’t expected such news from anyone but Ryker, who had promised to handle it. She had even promised him a kiss, a thought that flushed her cheeks. Worry nudged her heart.
“How is that possible? Was there another incident?” she asked cautiously, suspecting Ryker might not have been involved.
“No. They tried to disrupt him, mentioning your name repeatedly, but he didn’t yield,” Seraphine continued.
“That’s… unexpected,” Marcelline murmured, though Seraphine’s disappointment was evident—she had hoped for a more visible reaction.
“I thought you’d be pleased.”
Marcelline forced a grin. “I am. I’m just wondering why he released them despite their defiance.”
“Everyone’s confused, but I brought you something. From now on, you can reach me anytime,” Seraphine said, handing her a small box.
Marcelline’s eyes widened as she opened it, revealing a sleek, expensive phone. Finally, she could communicate freely with Nyla—but what she discovered next was entirely unexpected.