The Echo of Ancient Beasts
Narelle hadn’t told anyone she would be staying in the building after hours.
She told herself she needed to catch up on reports and review contracts, but the truth was harsher: she wanted to see with her own eyes whether Rhaek was still the fierce wolf who set any female alight if she dared provoke him.
The afternoon faded slowly, dragging a near-ceremonial silence through the hallways. When the lights began to shut off one by one, Narelle huddled inside the strategic planning room. From there, behind the smoked glass partition, she had a partial view of the main hall where Rhaek always ended his day in private conversations with his men.
The hours dragged by. First, two operations directors arrived, carrying thick folders. Later came three more figures she recognized: old advisors, all with the Vorn crest sewn discreetly into their jackets. They spoke in hushed tones, shadows discussing a destiny that no longer included her.
But Rhaek...
She studied him as if trying to decipher a riddle. She watched every movement, every tilt of his head, every measured pause before he spoke. It was impossible to forget who he had been—the untamed wolf who had once claimed a harem of females eager for his marks, his favors, his strength. He had been the first male, after Kael, to make her feel she wasn’t merely a piece on a board.
Or maybe he had simply been more skilled at lying.
When the last meeting ended, the directors filed out. Rhaek remained alone for a few moments. Then, he removed his jacket, loosened his tie, and braced his hands on the table, breathing deeply as if carrying an ancient weariness.
It was at that precise moment that one of the side doors opened.
She wasn’t prepared to see who walked in.
It was Mila.
The golden-furred she-wolf—tall, elegant, known for a voracious temperament that rivaled any male’s. Mila had been part of Rhaek’s old inner circle. In the past, people said she reigned over the other females, that a single look from her was enough to make any wolf lower his head.
Narelle’s heart pounded so loudly she feared she would be discovered.
Mila stopped in front of him without asking permission, arms crossed, a crooked smile on her lips. She didn’t look at all uncomfortable with the hour or the fact that they were alone. On the contrary—she seemed perfectly at ease, intimate.
She said something Narelle couldn’t hear. Rhaek lifted his gaze, and the tension between them seemed to fill the entire hall like electricity before a storm.
Narelle’s blood turned to ice.
This was the man who had said a thousand times he needed no other she-wolf. The same man who, night after night, insisted she was enough.
But the way Mila shifted her hips, the way Rhaek took his time to respond... none of it looked innocent.
Narelle bit her lip hard, trying to swallow her nausea.
She tried to convince herself Mila was there on business. That her posture was just part of her natural arrogance. But it was impossible to ignore the history between them—the past of shared nights, of secret pacts.
When Mila stepped closer and laid her hand on his forearm, Narelle forced herself to look. She needed to witness it, even if it hurt.
Rhaek didn’t pull away. He simply lowered his head, listening.
Perhaps that was what hurt the most: his calmness. The ease with which he accepted the touch, as if nothing were wrong. As if, deep down, they were still the wolf and the she-wolf who had once set so many corridors aflame.
Time crawled by. Narelle could feel her pulse throbbing in her ears.
At last, Mila said something that made him raise his eyes. He replied in a low voice. She smiled—a sharp smile, heavy with memories. Then she turned and walked away—slow, victorious steps.
Narelle remained frozen.
When he lifted his head in the direction of the glass, she instinctively ducked—heart racing, breath caught. She was certain he had seen her.
But a few seconds later, she heard his footsteps receding.
She waited almost ten minutes before standing up. Her legs were trembling.
She walked into the empty hall. She touched the surface where Mila had leaned, as if hoping to feel some lingering trace of her presence. She wanted to hate Rhaek for not rejecting the she-wolf. She wanted to hate Mila for still holding power over him.
But what she felt was worse than hatred: it was the confirmation that maybe Kael had been right.
Maybe she had never been the only one.
That night, Narelle returned home and couldn’t find the strength to face her son. She asked the nanny to put him to bed and locked herself in the bathroom, letting the hot water run over her skin until she felt empty.
Rhaek’s face returned every time she blinked. That restrained expression. The silence that said more than any speech.
When she finally came out, she passed through the living room and saw he had sent flowers. White roses—always the white roses. A card accompanied the arrangement, written in precise handwriting:
“I choose you, every day. Even when you doubt it.”
She almost laughed. Or almost cried. She no longer knew how to tell the difference.
For hours, she sat in the armchair, clutching that card.
She remembered every story ever told about Rhaek’s harem. About how, at the height of his youth, he let them all compete for his favor, as if every night were a contest for territory. He had been more than an alpha: he had been a storm.
And for a while, she had believed that storm had quieted for her sake.
Now, she wasn’t sure of anything.
In the morning, she put on her usual mask. The strong woman, the relentless shareholder, the she-wolf no one would humiliate twice.
At the company, she found Rhaek in the lobby, instructing two security guards. He saw her, lifted his chin in a gesture that asked for trust.
“I need to speak with you,” he said, approaching slowly.
She felt the urge to step back. But she didn’t.
“About what?” she asked, her tone betraying nothing.
“About last night.”
She held his gaze.
“If you’re going to tell me it wasn’t what it looked like, spare me the speech.”
For a moment, he stayed silent, as if weighing whether it was worth arguing.
“It wasn’t. But if you’d rather believe it was, I won’t try to convince you.”
She felt a knot in her throat.
“Why was she here, Rhaek?”
“Because she asked for an audience. And I don’t usually deny audiences.”
“Because she was your she-wolf.”
He looked at her in a way so direct it made her shiver.
“And do you think I’ve forgotten who you were? Or who I was?”
Silence settled between them. A silence more honest than any promise.
In that instant, Narelle understood that perhaps there was never any true safety beside a male like him.
But she also realized something else.
She didn’t need him to be whole.
And if the day ever came when he revealed h
imself to be just another wolf disguised as a man, she would be ready to leave.
Without asking permission.
Without looking back.