Page 89 of The Cursed Wolf King

I followed the direction in which Victory called, and I saw her, the very origin of the Heraclid scent. Every other supernatural had adjusted their seats to be able to watch Rhys and me, but not her. The sandy-haired woman in the rear corner booth was the only one in the café with her back to me.Sable.

She was alone, her posture relaxed but intentional, like she was daring me to notice her. My wolf growled. He knew this wasn’t a mistake. She wanted to act casual and she wanted to be seen. She also wanted me to make the first move.

I leaned back in my chair, my fingers tightening around my beer.Rhys, I said through the bond, my tone enough to make him turn from his conversation.

His eyes followed mine, landing on the woman in thebooth. His jaw tightened, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he returned and took his seat across from me.

“She’s a wolf,” I said, my voice low. “And she knows who I am.”

Rhys’s hand rested lightly on the table. “Yeah,” he said grimly. “And Victory said she’s been hanging around most of the day. She gives me the heebie-jeebies.” His nostrils flared again and his wolf surged.

“You alright?” I asked.

He nodded quickly. “My stomach is turning. There’s something rotten in here. And I think it’s her.”

“She might be here for the meeting.” I stood from the table. “Or operating as a lookout.”

“Logan?” Rhys said slowly. “Where are you going?”

I didn’t answer. My feet were already carrying me toward the table in the corner. Behind me, I heard the scrape of Rhys’s chair as he rose, his instinct to follow kicking in. The sounds of the café dulled to a low murmur. All my senses zeroed in on her.

She sat with her back straight, hands clasped in her lap. Her severe features were sharper in the dim light, high cheekbones casting shadows across her face. Wavy hair, sand-colored with streaks of chestnut, framed her angular jaw. She looked like she’d been sculpted out of stone—perfectly composed, perfectly still. What struck me was the emptiness in front of her. No food, no drink, no indication she was here for anything but waiting.

And shehadbeen waiting.

For me.

Her scent hit me hard as I neared the table, subtle and layered with something acrid. Wolfsbane, maybe, or someother herb meant to mask her true nature. It couldn’t hide everything. Beneath the faint shimmer of artificiality, there it was: Heraclid.

I stopped short of the table, my shadow falling over her. My wolf caught a skip in her heartbeat, the smallest crack in her otherwise stoic demeanor.

“I remember you,” I said, unable to hide my contempt.

I remembered her clearly now—the woman who had stood too close to Damian, her loyalty etched in every rigid line of her body. Her presence then had been a warning. And here she was again, sitting in front of me like she belonged there.

She finally looked up at me, her face nothing but a blank slate.

Her audacity lit my temper and my fists clenched at my sides. Then I saw her stillness wasn’t confidence—it was calculated.

And that skip in her heartbeat told me she wasn’t as unafraid as she wanted me to believe.

My wolf came forward, growling low and feral and wanting revenge for whatever harm she may have caused to Eve. I held him back, my control razor-thin. Behind me, Rhys stepped closer. I didn’t dare take my eyes off the woman. Her every move—or lack thereof—stoked my temper.

“I believe you want to tell me something,” I rasped, barely containing my alpha command.

Her lips curved into a faint smile, one that didn’t reach her eyes. “I don’t want to tell you anything,” she said smoothly. “Least of all that a meeting in the human city would make the perfect bait to keep you far from Heraclid lands.”

Rhys growled at her and my head snapped in his direction. His wolf was alive in his eyes. Was he sensing something more in her than me?

A trap, then.The meeting, the digital trail, all of it a ploy to lure me away from my pack, my home, and the true gathering of alphas.

Of course they’d want me distracted. A meeting in neutral territory was tradition, a way to level the field, but holding it on Heraclid lands was calculated. A blatant move to ensure I stayed away, chasing shadows in the human city while they consolidated power right under my nose. But they underestimated me.

My wolf, my pack, my blood—we thrived in defiance, and if they thought I’d let their schemes unfold without tearing them apart, they were fools.

Rhys moved first. “Let’s get out of here,” he said, already rushing toward the door. “I can’t stand the smell in here.”

I stayed rooted to the spot. She didn’t flinch, didn’t even blink. If anything, she looked bored, her attention shifting lazily to the surface of the table as if I were no more significant than a fly buzzing nearby.

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