About ten minutester, he returned with a bright smile.

“They’re already at a nearby restaurant. It’s quiet there, easier to

talk.”

I nodded and excused myself from the room. The moment I

stepped outside, the cool ind breeze hit me. I followed the

directions John had given, walking down a side street toward

the restaurant. It wasn’t far.

But before I could turn the corner, I felt a sharp sting at the back

of my neck.

Something cold, something fast.

My vision swam.

I stumbled forward, disoriented.

The world tilted.

And everything went ck.

Alexander’s POV

The summit dinner had run longer than expected. It was nearly

eight when I returned to the hotel, loosening my tie, preparing

bChapter /b30

for a video conference with the European board.

Before I could even connect, Gai burst in.

“She hasn’t returned,” he said. His breathing was uneven, hisposure frayed–something I rarely saw from him.

I turned from the window. “Who?”

“Olivia.”

My expression hardened. “Where was shest?”

“She left for the factory around one in the afternoon. Was

scheduled to return by three.” He checked his phone. “It’s past

eight now. Her number’s not reachable.”

The air in the room dropped ten degrees. I walked to my desk and shut theptop lid. “Cancel the conference. I’m going there.””

“I’ve already contacted the factory,” Gai added quickly. “They’re

checking the security feeds and questioning the staff.“”

Good. At least his instincts weren’tpletely dulled.

Just as we were stepping into the elevator, Jess appeared at the

end of the corridor, clutching her coat. “I heard what happened.

I’ming with you.”

I didn’t argue. Not now. Every second mattered.

We exited the hotel into the cool Washington night. Just as I

reached for the car door, a voice cut through the quiet.

“Alpha Alexander!”

I paused.

Across the street, a small group of men hurried toward us. In

front was Alpha Ethan Hawthorne.

He stopped a few feet from me, chest heaving, eyes zing.

“Where is my wife?”

I regarded him with the same calm I always reserved for

uninvited noise. “She’s missing.”

His fists clenched. “What the hell do you mean-

Before he couldunch into his usual tantrum, Gai stepped

forward. “She was sent to inspect the factory. She hasn’t been

back since.”

“Olivia is my personal secretary,” I added tly. “She was acting

on my behalf.”

The words hit Ethan visibly. His jaw tightened. My wolf Heath

snarled iat /ithe sight of him–this man who had the audacity to

call herhis.

“My team is searching now. We’ll find her,” I finished.

Ethan stared, unwilling to ept it. But I was already moving.

My car pulled up and I got in without looking back.

His headlights followed us.

On the way to the factory, Gai exined Olivia’s suspicions

from the night before–about ghost employees, payroll

mismatches, potential corruption.

“She believed it was internal fraud,” he added. “She brought a

recorder today. Said she’d go investigate quietly.”

I turned to him, cold fury simmering beneath my voice. “Why

wasn’t I told sooner?”

“We thought it was just a petty matter, and didn’t require your

attention.” Gai hesitated. “Also, she thought she could handle it.”

“She’s not an auditor,” I snapped. “She’s my PS. If anything

happens to her, you will answer to me first.”

Gai said nothing. He understood.

I looked out the window. The night blurred past, streetlights

flickering like silent warnings.

“If we don’t find her within the hour,” I said, my voice deadly

even, “fire every executive in that branch. Every name from the

factory to the boardroom.”

Gai blinked. “On what grounds?”

I turned to him, expression unchanged. “No grounds. I don’t need any

I looked ahead again, the tension wrapping around me like steel.

“If they dare to touch what’s mine, they no longer deserve to

exist under my roof.”

Olivia’s POV

My wrists were tied behind the chair so tightly that the

cirction in my fingers had gone numb. A strip of rough duct

tape sealed my mouth. I could barely breathe through my nose

-the air was thick with the stench of damp wood, rot, and

mildew.

Somewhere beyond the walls, I could hear waves crashing. The

sharp tang of salt in the air suggested we were close to the coast,

maybe even in one of the old abandoned seaside houses I’d

passed on the way to the restaurant. My eyes hadn’t adjusted to

the dark, but I could make out the faint outlines of furniture–a

dusty couch, a crooked dining table, a moldy rug.

The door creaked open, letting in a sliver of moonlight–and in

stepped Jimson Howard.

I blinked. I had suspected someone from thepany might be involved, buthim? Assistant Branch Manager? He always

seemed harmless, awkward even. Too polite. Too ordinary.