Chapter 0005

She claims to be part of my pack? Impossible.

My father's words echo in my mind. "Know every member by name. Their loyalty is your strength." I've lived by that rule since childhood.

I storm toward my car, fists clenched. That she-wolf didn't submit to me. Didn't even give me her name. And if she's truly pack, why don't I recognize her?

Donovan blocks my path. "Did you find her?"

I glare. "Who?"

"The brunette from earlier. Did you get her details?"

I grip the car door. "You didn't recognize her either?"

He slides into the passenger seat, frowning. "Only saw her back. Why?"

The engine roars to life. "She implied she's Blackthorn Pack."

Donovan blinks. "So?"

"So I don't know her!" The steering wheel creaks under my grip. "I know every warrior, every child, every elder. How does she exist?"

His expression mirrors my frustration. "Maybe she lied?"

I scoff.

"Think about it," he persists. "Some she-wolves avoid Alphas until they find their mates. Could've been protecting herself."

A fair point—until I remember Nathaniel. "She's friends with him."

"Nathaniel Elcove?"

"Apparently."

"Then she's never trained with us." His tone turns definitive. We'd remember a warrior like her.

I drum my fingers. Impossible. I attend every gathering, oversee every training session, eat daily in the packhouse. That wild chestnut hair? Those piercing amber eyes? That electric jolt when we touched? I wouldn't forget.

"Ask Nathaniel tonight," Donovan suggests.

I shoot him a look. "I don't chase she-wolves. And I sure as hell don't interrogate warriors about them."

He shrugs. "Then point her out tomorrow. Maybe I'll recognize her face."

I bump his fist. "Thanks."

"Always." He grins. "Now let's go wreck some warriors."

———

Post-training, I head to dinner after showering. My mother intercepts me in the hallway.

"Adrian, how was your day?"

I kiss her forehead. "Fine. Going to eat."

Her hand halts me. "I'm visiting Ivy's memorial tonight. Your father's dining with Mr. Sinclair. Will you join me?"

As if I'd refuse. Thirteen years of weekly visits—our ritual since Dad claimed his meetings with Evelyn's father are "private time." I get it. But I want to pay respects to the man who sacrificed everything for us. And I want to meet his daughter.

She'll be my responsibility someday. I'll ensure the Sinclairs want for nothing.

I smirk. "You ask like I'd say no."

She laughs. "So like your father. Eat first, then we'll go."

The dining hall buzzes with warriors. My gaze sweeps the room—no sign of the mysterious brunette. Disappointing, but expected.

I load my plate, joining my fighters. The mystery can wait. But not forever.