Page 27 of Craved By the Werewolf
Lana slipped in beside him, her smile genuine. "You two were perfect out there. The energy's incredible, and donations are already ahead of projection."
That got Vala to smile — the real one, the kind she didn't give away freely. "Good. Haven House deserves it."
Mika thrust a bottle of water into Vala's hand. "Keep hydrating. You've got another introduction coming up."
I leaned down to murmur to Vala, "I'll be back before your next stage cue."
She arched a brow. "Patrol?"
"Always."
The bassline from Vail Breaker's closing song was still humming in my chest when I made it back to the wings. From here, I could see Vala already at the mic, ready to introduce the next act, pacing the stage like a predator.
"Alright, Mystic Ridge, I hope you're not getting tired on me," she called, her voice smooth and dangerous. "Because we're just getting started."
The crowd answered with a wall of sound—stomps, cheers, a few unfiltered howls.
From the corner of the VIP tent, Malrik tipped his chin toward the stage. A ripple of magic shimmered through the air, subtle but unmistakable, and the lights shifted in a way no mortal tech could pull off. A spotlight bloomed around Vala, wrapping her in a halo of silver-gold that made her dress flare like smoke around her legs. The crowd went wild.
Vala didn't miss a beat. She glanced toward the VIP tent — right at him — and smirked. "That all you've got?"
The lights answered with a playful pulse, perfectly in time with her words. I sent Malrik a look that promised we'd be having a conversation later. He only grinned, all teeth and trouble.
I stepped out into the lights.
Vala's gaze found me instantly, and without missing a beat, she reached out her hand.
I took it.
The reaction was immediate—louder than before, a tidal wave of noise that rolled over the stage. Whistles, claps, stomps, and another round of howls from the back.
"Your favorite Alpha's back," she told them, her voice dripping with mischief. "And he's here to make sure you're still awake for the next round."
I leaned into her mic. "Wouldn't miss it."
The cheer that followed was absurd — like they'd just been promised free drinks for life.
She squeezed my hand once before turning back to the crowd. "Coming up next — more strings than sense, and we love them for it. Give it up for The Sirens!"
The stage lights flared as the band swept on. We stepped back together into the wings, the noise still rattling my bones.
We'd barely cleared the stage when my comm crackled in my ear.
"Thorne," Raina's voice was tight, clipped. "Something's heading your way. I'm thirty seconds out."
My wolf surged to the surface instantly, hackles up. "What is it?"
"Not sure. Fast. Wrong scent."
I scanned the crowd beyond the VIP tent, the music from The Sirens a sharp, pulsing counterpoint to the sudden shift in my blood. Lights flashed over the sea of faces, but the movement I caught wasn't dancing — it was slicing through the edges of the crowd. Precise. Intentional.
"Keep it contained," I said, already moving.
Vala was a few steps ahead, weaving between guests as she aimed for the drinks table, her hair catching the stage lights. Too far from me, too close to the outer perimeter.
"Vala—"
The breach happened in a blink. Two figures in dark, fae-cut leathers slipped through the side opening, their glamour sparking as they crossed the ward line. They moved like knives, cutting straight toward the tent.
