7. Oliver

Iattach an earpiece to a helmet and toss it to Sophia, along with my dinner jacket, to put on against the wind.

”We need to be cautious. I’ll explain on the way over,” I say, watching her slip off her heels and hoist up the red fabric of her dress, revealing a stretch of leg that sends my thoughts careening.

”What is it with you and not telling me ahead of time what clothes to bring? I”m going to start carrying a suitcase,” she says through the mic, climbing onto the motorcycle behind me, tucking her high heels under her arm with restrained dignity. I’m pretty sure I’ve pissed her off, but we need to get there fast.

The city rushes by, a blur of shadows and light as we weave through the streets toward the Court of Ravens. “Armand Larken called,” I tell her through the headset. “He”s head of the venue and a senior member of the Larken clan, one of Irene’s brothers-in-law. They’re our security for this. Spare me the nepotism jokes. Unusual magical activity was detected in the ballroom. It could be a security concern and can”t wait until morning.”

Her arms tighten around my waist, pulling us closer. I feel every curve of her body pressed against me, the V of her knees tight against my hips. Well, maybe the motorcycle wasn’t the best choice. I will have to fight to keep my focus on the road. But I sure am going to enjoy the ride.

”The Court is one of the oldest locations in the city, steeped in magic and secrecy. It”s seen more plots and schemes than the rest of Ravencourt combined,” I explain over the cycle’s muscular thrum as I increase the speed. ”We need to watch our step.”

”Got it,” Sophia says, her voice a bit husky.

”Sophia—about earlier? I think we—.”

She cuts me off with a fierce whisper. ”Don”t. Not now. I’m trying not to die.”

She”s right. This is not the time or place. But damn it, if every cell in my body doesn”t want to ignore that fact completely. I don’t like having my face rubbed in my personal failings. I know my father is a shit. I don’t need everyone else to know that, though.

I should fire her regardless. We’ve gone too far and been too honest about the obvious sexual tension. I know I’m an idiot to have even gotten near the subject. But my wolf wants her. And as I think it, he howls inside me.

Outside the Court of Ravens building, its Gothic towers illuminated against the night sky, I kill the engine and swing a leg over the bike, my heart hammering for more reasons than one. Sophia”s touch lingers like a brand as I lift her off the bike, her usual poise regained with enviable speed.

The Court looms over us, supposedly empty at this hour but somehow still full of eyes watching us a little too closely. We enter the main hall, our footsteps echoing against the marble. Strange, there’s no one there.

”Armand said he”d meet us at the door.”

The grandeur of the place always hits me square in the chest, but tonight, it feels different—like stepping into a still frame of time, like something is waiting to come to life—something unpleasant. I raise my jaw, sniffing the air discretely. Nothing peculiar, but it’s a weird place regardless.

We walk down the corridor towards the Crimson Court Ballroom. I’ve been here many times, starting when I was a kid and forced to attend official events.

”I think the ballroom is this way,” Sophia whispers, her hand on my arm guiding me towards the left fork. Her touch is electric, sparking more of that heat I am trying to ignore.

The Crimson Ballroom waits further down the hall in eerie silence, shadows clinging to the corners like cobwebs. ”Stay sharp,” I mutter, scanning behind us with eyes honed to spot any hint of magic out of place. Lycans deal primarily in organic magic, similar to the Fae, which is one reason we don’t like giving up our land. But if that’s all Kray is after, he already got what he wanted in our meeting.

There’s something else going on. Why? It’s just a damned charity ball. I sniff, smelling wood and earth and bone as though Lycans have been here tonight but are long gone.

What set Father off about the Covenant? And Mom was part of it? Impossible. What was Irene so afraid of? Father’s always been a volcano, ready to go off. We live in the shadow of his anger all the time. Tonight was no different.

Sophia moves ahead, her gaze sweeping over the wall paneling. She stops suddenly, fingers hovering over an intricate carving I suddenly recognize. ”There”s something here,” she says, voice barely above a breath.

I”m at her side in an instant, watching as she slides her fingers along the edges of the panel. It pops open with a click that jars loose a memory.

Jason”s laughter echoes in my mind—a ghost from a past that seems impossibly close and irretrievably distant. We were just two mischievous brothers, always eager to escape Father”s ferocious gaze and boring meetings. For a moment, I”m back with Jason—two kids who believed they could conquer any mystery Ravencourt threw at us. He was five years older than me—always stronger, faster and smarter. And more like our father than our mother. My arms ache to think of the “playful” punches he landed there. I wish I missed him but I don’t.

Now I remember the passage. He left me in here once, told me to wait, and then ran off while I crouched in the darkness—no full-grown wolf yet—no claws or teeth to defend myself against the shadows. I shake off the memory. “I can”t believe that passage is still here. It must serve a purpose, or they would have closed it off, I guess.”

”Oliver. What’s this?” Sophia bends down to the floor to retrieve something. She holds out an old accordion file of papers that I can see still shimmering with magic residue.

I sigh. “I wish you were a mage, Ms. Carter.”

“Me too, thanks very much,” she says humorlessly. ”These were right at the entrance. But there”s no dust on them.” She peers into the passageway, her cell phone illuminating cobwebs and a thick layer of dust on the floor. ”They’re the only thing in there that’s not dusty. I think somebody put these here recently.”

”Possibly so we would find them,” I agree. ”If memory serves, this passageway will spit us out at the ballroom. Let”s go in and have a look around. I remember exploring this with my brother. It’s a little spooky, but many things feel spooky when you’re a kid.”

”Probably a catering corridor? For events?”

”Maybe…but nobody”s used it in a long time,” I cough, pushing away cobwebs. Then I sneeze, and Sophia suppresses a laugh. ”What? Are you laughing at my allergies?”

”Absolutely not,” Sophia answers, her tone still serious but with the edge of a joke beneath it. “I thought wolves weren’t allergic to anything—one of your folk’s superhuman advantages? Are you up to facing down the dust mites, spiders…, and creepy crawlies?”

For some reason, I bristle at the comment. My wolf side isn”t a party trick or a line in a comedy act—it”s a fundamental part of who I am. I can feel the wolf just beneath my skin, an ancient and wild presence that”s both me and not me. I turn to face her, my eyes narrowing as I prepare a retort. If I weren”t struggling with how drawn to her I am, I”d show her very quickly what it means to be a shifter.

With an exaggerated sigh, I let one claw flick out, quick as a switchblade. ”Make all the jokes you want, Ms. Carter. I”m pretty sure I could kill a spider with this.” The words are light, but I feel my canines itching to show themselves, too.

Sophia doesn”t even flinch. Instead, she raises an eyebrow and looks at the claw with a distinctly unimpressed air. ”I see,” she deadpans. ”Armed for any occasion.”

Oh, I get it now. This is about earlier. I was a cad. And I haven’t properly apologized. She was right. I was more than ready to fire her and free us both for whatever might follow. Not my best move.

”You”re still angry,” I say. “Rightfully, so.”

”No. I”m not,” she says with finality.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “How was that? Did I do it right? The apologizing?”

“I suppose,” she says and keeps walking.

I retract the claw, tucking it back into the confines of my human facade as we push forward.

In truth, I”m the one who”s angry—at myself. I drew a line, and then my wolf crossed it. For demons’ sake, I wish Rebecca hadn’t played me for a fool like that in front of Kray and company. I wince, the embarrassment still raw. That was my fault, too.

At one point, the passageway branches off in two directions, but when I shine my cell phone into the gloom, I see only more dust, so we keep going forward.

We finally emerge into the dark, empty ballroom. The file feels heavy in my hand, like it”s brimming with secrets just out of reach.

“We should leave so we can look at this somewhere with more light.”

Right on cue, my phone dings with a text. Expecting to see an “I’m coming” from Armand, I get a bit of a shock instead.

”Check this out,” I whisper, angling the text screen toward Sophia. ”Anonymous sender.”

She takes a deep breath, genuine fear in her eyes as she reads the words aloud. “The Covenant is real.”

I look around the ballroom. “Somebody is playing games with us.”

She looks up at me and clears her throat. “I need to tell you something. The earlier message, at dinner, wasn”t from my brother.” She shows me her screen.

“Someone at the table is lying,” I read aloud. “Well, that narrows it down, at least. If it wasn’t you or me? It can’t be Irene. She’s always been the straight arrow. And Father…well, he’s been known to bend the truth, but this little game doesn’t seem like his. You saw how he is. You get it now; why don’t we tell anyone what he”s sick with? Kray must be salivating at the thought that his best friend and greatest rival will soon be dead.”

I feel my throat wanting to swell with emotion, but I won’t share it with Sophia. However enticing she may be, she”s certainly a spy. I just have to convince my wolf to ”sit.”

Sophia bows her head, avoiding my gaze. ”I get it. I don”t see any reason to share anything personal with anyone outside the family. Your father”s illness—that”s a private matter.”

”I wish it were that simple. When you”re the head of a huge resort company, with land holdings all over the country, your health is a predictor of your company’s health.”

”But Oliver, you”re the head now. And you”re doing a good job. The company is thriving. I did have to review a lot of reports before the meeting. If anyone feels uncomfortable about the state of affairs at Faulkner, it”s Kray.”

”Oh,” I laugh. “Well, thanks for that vote of confidence and the admission that you”ve vetted us…maybe more than we vetted you.”

She frowns, still leafing through the folder. I admire her focus. I, for one, want only to focus on her.

”I hate to ask this, but do you trust your staff? Someone had to be listening to us at dinner. Did you notice the phone number on the message I got? It’s the same as the one listed as Jason’s on the guest list. I didn”t want to say anything at the table, and then…stuff happened.”

I scan the message again, feeling a cold knot in my stomach. ”Sophia, this can”t be from Jason,” I say more to myself than her. ”Here’s another family secret I never thought I’d share. Jason died last year.”

My voice drops, softer but edged with sudden sadness I can”t even pretend to mask. ”He was in Singapore, where he”s lived for years. They say he drowned. But he was the best swimmer I know. The body was never recovered. I”m only glad my mother didn”t live long enough to suffer that additional blow. He was always her favorite. The family—Irene and Father—wanted it kept a secret. I didn”t feel right about it. It felt like we were trying to forget him, keep his whole life a secret. Sometimes, a secret is the same as a lie, right?”

She tilts her head, considering.

I pause, unable to repress the warring surge of sadness and suspicion in my chest. ”Be straight with me, Ms. Carter. Is this message from you? Did Kray tell you to mess with me? Is this all part of some bigger plan he”s cooked up?”

Her eyes lock onto mine, steady and suddenly cold as stone. ”I know as much about that message as you,” she states. ”I just wasn”t sure what to do. My only goal is to make this Gala a success, just like you. I can”t if you won”t tell me what I need to know. Your family…well, I thought mine was a mess. Maybe Irene has answers? Have you tried pushing her a little on this?”

My mouth drops open. Gods!

”Irene”s my sister. Why would she lie to me?”

”That’s not what I’m saying. I just meant, maybe she”s trying to protect you?”

A clatter shatters our standoff—sharp, sudden, a cascade of sounds that shouldn”t be there. I glance down at my phone. No message.

”Armand wouldn”t just show up without texting me first. I think we should head back to the entrance for now.”

I motion to Sophia to retreat into the passage and follow right behind.

My thoughts are a whirlwind—suspicion about Sophia, tangling with concern her safety. Any further doubts will have to wait.

”I don’t think we should go straight back the way we came. Let”s try another passage,” I hiss and guide her down one of the side corridors. The corridor narrows until we”re shoulder to shoulder, then single file, our breaths mingling in quick huffs of exertion and fear. At one point, Sophia stumbles over an uneven section of floor; instinctively, my hand shoots out to steady her—a brief touch that sends a jolt through me that”s not entirely due to our perilous situation.

”The floor is made of stone here,” Sophia says, bending down to shine her cell on the floor. ”And the walls…and it”s getting damp. You feel that?”

“And I think the floor is sloping down. We’re going deeper into the oldest parts of the Court. You know, there were rumors of torture chambers down here.”

“You’re just trying to scare me.”

I snort at Sophia”s accusation, my pulse quickening not just from the chase but from the proximity to her in this confined space. ”If I wanted to scare you, I”d do a much better job,” I say, my voice low and even. The air is thick with the must of centuries, and each breath feels like inhaling history itself.

As we press on, footsteps echo behind us—a deliberate, rhythmic pursuit that sets my nerves on edge. My wolf bristles beneath my skin, itching to confront whatever—or whoever—stalks us. I place a hand on Sophia”s shoulder, silently signaling her to stop.

She turns to me, eyes wide with alarm. ”Do you hear that?” she whispers.

I nod, tilting my head as I listen. The footsteps are measured, unhurried—a predator confident in its hunt. My wolf doesn”t like being hunted. ”Stay close,” I murmur, turning to face the darkness behind us.

The shadows seem to move, shift, and be alive with intent. There is a whisper of movement and then stillness—the kind of stillness that screams danger. My heart pounds in my chest, a drumbeat urging me to shift, fight, and protect.

I fight the urge but let a low growl escape from deep within—a warning that resonates off the stone walls. It”s not fear that fuels it; it”s a declaration. I am Lord Oliver Faulkner, and this is my territory.

Sophia”s hand finds mine in the darkness, her grip firm yet somehow reassuring. ”What is it?”

Her voice anchors me back to my human side as I take a deep breath and push down the primal instinct rising within me. ”It”s okay,” I lie because nothing about this is okay. We”re lost in a labyrinth beneath the Court of Ravens—lost and being hunted.

We continue down the corridor, but with each turn, it becomes clear we”re walking deeper into a maze designed not just by architecture but by magic—a place where corridors twist and turn in impossible ways.

The pursuit doesn”t relent; if anything, it grows closer. My wolf snarls internally at the thought of being cornered. It wants out—to fight back against whatever chases us—but I can”t let it loose. Not here. Not with Sophia by my side.

”We need to find a way out,” Sophia says between breaths as we navigate another sharp turn.

I can only nod in agreement as we quicken our pace, our footsteps urgent against the stone floor. I stop her again, my hearing tuned to a new ticking noise.

Faint sounds arise from within the walls around us, and slowly, I feel the walls begin to move, either by magic or design. Indeed, a trap—likely a very old one—that was set to crush an enemy. Literally.

”Is it my imagination? It sounds like something is pushing the walls in!” she says.

”Damn it, we”ve been set up! Whoever that was back there, I think they’ve just successfully herded us here,” I hiss, pushing Sophia ahead of me, sniffing my way toward fresher air. ”The Court is full of old security measures—some deadly,” I say, keeping my hand firm on her back. ”We need to get out before the lockdown cycle completes. In the old days, they’d trap intruders and return weeks later when they were mostly dead. The Leviathan Faction is well known for such ‘installations.’ Keep moving. I smell fresh air up ahead.”

Sophia gives a faint squeak of alarm, as the floor shifts under our feet, too. That brings up a surge of protectiveness in me. She may be more trouble than she”s worth, but I can”t let anything bad happen to her on my watch.

Pulling her behind me, I navigate by instinct until we finally come to a dead end. I pound a fist on the wall…and it shudders from the force. I smell cooler air coming from behind it.

”I think this is a false wall. Can you help me push?”

The combination of my wolf strength and her determination works and the wall gives way, tumbling us both into a tiny windowless room filled with mops, buckets and a set of high shelves.

”What is this? A Leviathan dungeon?” Sophia says. ”And are we sure we won”t get squeezed to death here, too?”

I flick on a dim overhead bulb and survey the jumble. But nothing is crushed. ”No this looks like a janitor”s closet.” I try the door. ”And locked from the outside.”

Things are so tight we”re practically in each other”s arms when we finally get up and face each other. Only inches between us. Her scent overwhelms me, rising above even the odor of lemon cleanser and moldy rags. She smells like red wine and exotic spices. She smells like something I”d love to devour.

”Well, I”m not going back in there,” Sophia says, peering towards the passageway. She looks at her phone. ”And there”s no signal.”

”Of course, there isn”t. We”re in the belly of the Court of Ravens. To communicate with the outside world from here, we”d need a mage”s portal, a fae potion or a witch”s spell. It”s better just to turn them off and save the battery.”

”Great,” Sophia says. ”Now, what are we going to do? What if whatever or whoever was back there is still following us?”

”Do I need to remind you again that I”m a werewolf?” I say.

She laughs at the thought, an oddly melodic sound amidst dust and disarray. I can”t help but crack a smile myself. There”s something about her—the way she can face every crisis that gets thrown at her—that I find unexpectedly captivating.

She tilts her head, a strand of hair falling over her shoulder. ”A big bad wolf?”

The playful glint in her eyes catches me off guard. My wolf perks up at the challenge, and it”s all I can do to keep it from responding in kind.

The tension in the room shifts and becomes charged with something more than fear or adrenaline. Right from the moment I saw her in the conference room, there”s been an undercurrent of attraction that neither of us can deny, though we both know we must.

”Well, since you asked. I’m protective?” I concede, feeling my pulse quicken. ”But big and bad? That”s where you”re mistaken.” I lean in closer and give her my best bad movie monster imitation. ”I”m much worse than you could imagine.”

Her laughter subsides into a soft chuckle, her brown eyes locking onto mine with a softness that still manages to bring me nearly to my knees.

”Is that so?” she teases. ”I guess it”s a good thing I like a little danger then.”

We stand there, locked in an unspoken understanding that we”re treading dangerous waters far deeper than the secrets and shadows lurking within the Court of Ravens.

The sound of our breathing fills the cramped space, and for a moment, nothing else exists but the two of us—predator and human, werewolf lord and his strong-willed assistant. Hardly the stuff of a hot romance. But then again.

Our breaths mingle in the tight quarters, and despite the danger lurking just beyond these walls, it’s Sophia’s nearness that sends adrenaline coursing through my veins. I try to push back against the wall, but there”s nowhere to go—nowhere but towards Sophia.