The medical facility occupied an entire floor of Crestmont Tower, though Stewart had never heard of any businesses offering healthcare services in the building. The doctor, a thin man named Voss with pale eyes and careful hands, directed him to an examination room that looked more like something from a spa than a clinic."Just a standard physical," Dr. Voss said, his voice soft and professional. "Mr. Ashford is very particular about the health of his employees. Strip to your underwear, please."Stewart complied, folding his suit carefully. The room was cool. Clinical. Dr. Voss moved around him with practiced efficiency, checking reflexes, listening to his heart, peering into his eyes with a small light."You're in reasonable shape for a man under stress," Dr. Voss observed. "Blood pressure is elevated but not dangerously so. When did you last eat?""Breakfast. Coffee and toast.""Good. The blood work will be easier on a lighter stomach."The doctor prepared a syringe, tapping the vein

The warehouse district had been abandoned for a decade, a graveyard of industrial ambition. Building 47 squatted among its fellows like a predator at rest, windowless and foreboding. Stewart parked three blocks away, as instructed by the text message that had come through at noon. Walk the rest. Let them smell you coming.The sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of blood. Stewart's enhanced senses picked up traces he'd never have noticed before. Scent markers. Territorial signs. This wasn't just a meeting place. This was their hunting ground.The warehouse door stood open. Inside, sodium lights cast everything in sickly yellow. Forty people, maybe fifty, occupied the space. Men and women of every age and description, but they all shared one thing: an intensity, a presence that set Stewart's new instincts screaming.Pack.Rowan stood on a platform at the far end, Marlene beside him. When Stewart entered, every head turned. The silence was absolute. Crushing. He forced himself to

The next morning arrived with a message from Rowan: *Stay home today. Rest. Tonight changes everything.*Stewart called in sick to the warehouse—his last connection to his old life. His supervisor barely cared. They'd already processed his resignation paperwork, received the notification that Stewart Lennox had secured better employment. Another body replaced, another desperate man sliding into his spot on the factory floor.Claire was energized after the dinner, talking about the people she'd met. "That Julia seemed nice. And Marlene is intense but I like her. They're like a real family, you know? The way they interact.""Yeah," Stewart muttered, staring at his coffee. A family of predators."Rowan asked if I'd be interested in helping with their charity foundation. Event planning, fundraising." Claire was practically glowing. "Can you believe it? Me, working with a charity. Actual meaningful work instead of just surviving."Stewart felt his control slipping. The wolf was too close t

Stewart returned home Tuesday afternoon to find Claire reorganizing the kitchen. New appliances gleamed on the counters, gifts from Rowan that had arrived while he was gone. She turned when he entered, and for a moment, her smile faltered."You look different.""Just tired." Stewart set down his bag, hyperaware of every sound in the house. Danny's breathing upstairs. Emma is sleeping in her crib. Claire's elevated heart rate. "How were the kids?""Fine. Your mom helped yesterday." Claire approached, touching his face. "Stewart, you're burning up. Are you sick?"His temperature ran hot now, the wolf's metabolism keeping him at near-fever levels constantly. "Just worked hard. I need a shower."He escaped before she could ask more questions. Under scalding water, Stewart tried to wash away the memory of blood and hunt. But the wolf was still there, coiled tight, waiting. Elena had warned him, strong emotions could trigger partial shifts. He needed to stay calm. Controlled.When he emerge

Stewart arrived home at two in the morning to find Claire awake in the living room, waiting. The lamp cast shadows across her face, making her look older. Harder."Sit down," she said quietly.He obeyed, exhaustion settling into his bones. The wolf was quiet now, sated by the partial transformation, but its presence lingered like a second heartbeat."I called your mother. Asked about Rowan Ashford. About your childhood." Claire's hands were folded in her lap, controlled. "She said you two weren't that close. That his family moved away when you were ten and she never heard his name again until you mentioned this job."Stewart's throat tightened."So I did research. Rowan Ashford, billionaire, appeared in business records twelve years ago. Before that? Nothing. No college records. No previous employment. No history. Like he materialized fully formed." Claire's eyes met his. "People don't work that way, Stewart. Unless they're hiding something.""Claire...""I'm not finished." Her voice