Chapter 3

Coralie Hanson POV:

Zane drove the armored truck at top speed through the dark highways, and thirty minutes later, we pulled up to a heavily guarded private airfield on the edge of the territory.

Out on the tarmac sat a massive private jet bearing the dark-gold crest of the Romero Corporation, its twin engines humming low in the night air.

Two rows of elite Gamma guards—the highest-ranking warriors in a pack, second only to the Alpha and Beta in brute strength—stood at attention along the boarding stairs, their faces stone-cold.

I pushed open the truck door and stepped out, the night wind blowing my long hair back as I walked straight toward the jet.

A towering Gamma guard stepped forward and blocked my path with a thick arm.

"Halt," he said, his voice like grinding stones. "State your business and show your credentials."

Without a word, I reached into my pocket, pulled out a black alloy badge engraved with the supreme symbol of the dark web, and tossed it to him.

The guard caught the badge. The second he saw the emblem, his eyes widened in sheer respect. He immediately took a half-step back and bowed his head, clearing the way.

Just then, the cabin door at the top of the stairs swung open, and a tall, broad-shouldered man stepped out under the floodlights.

It was Callan Romero，the grandson of Alistair Romero Alpha of the former Romero Corporation. Wearing a bespoke charcoal suit, the billionaire Alpha CEO looked down at the tarmac like a ruthless king surveying his empire.

A suffocating wave of Alpha Dominion—the genetic aura of absolute authority—rolled off him, so heavy that the surrounding Gamma guards lowered their heads further, barely daring to breathe.

Before I could take another step, the wind shifted, and an intoxicating scent of crisp cedarwood and wild mint slammed straight into my lungs.

My breath hitched. Every werewolf knew the legend of the Moon Goddess's Fated Mate ritual: when two fated souls met for the first time, five undeniable reactions would strike them at once—scent, physical surge, soul's peace, the inner wolf's roar, and an electric touch.

My heart hammered violently against my ribs, my blood boiling as my knees went weak and tiny sparks prickled across my skin. At the same time, an overwhelming sense of warmth and peace washed over me, filling the hollow ache I had carried in my chest for years.

Deep inside my mind, my ancient White Wolf—which I had kept hidden from the entire world—snapped her golden eyes open and let out a deafening, possessive roar: "Mine!"

I clenched my fists so hard my nails dug deep into my palms, using all my willpower to crush my wolf's instinct to submit to the mate bond.

At the top of the stairs, Callan's amber eyes shrank the instant they locked onto me. His jaw tensed, and his chest heaved with a ragged, heavy breath.

He strode down the metal stairs, each step radiating pure, predatory aggression, as if he wanted to swallow me whole.

Stopping less than two feet in front of me, he towered over my frame, his dark gaze burning into my face.

"You're the miracle healer?" he asked, his voice dangerously low and raspy.

Forcing down the racing beat of my heart, I tilted my chin up and met his stare coldly.

"I'm Shadow Feather," I corrected him. "And I'm only here for the money."

Callan stared into my defiant eyes, the corner of his mouth curving into a dark, unreadable smirk. Suddenly, he reached out his hand to take the black medical backpack slung over my shoulder.

I instinctively jerked back to avoid him, but his Alpha reflexes were too fast. His long, warm fingers brushed heavily across the back of my hand.

The moment our skin touched, a violent jolt of electricity shot up my arm and exploded through my entire nervous system, sending a dizzying wave of pleasure straight down my spine.

I yanked my hand back as if I had been burned by open fire, taking two quick steps backward to put safe distance between us as I glared at him warily.

Callan looked at his empty hand and let out a low, rumbling chuckle. From the golden flicker in his eyes, I could tell his inner wolf was thoroughly pleased by my reaction.

He turned around and walked back up the boarding stairs.

"Get on the plane," he commanded over his shoulder, leaving no room for argument. "My grandfather doesn't have time to waste."

I took a deep breath to steady my erratic pulse before turning slightly toward Zane, who was standing by the truck scratching his head, completely oblivious to the invisible tension between us.

"Stay here and monitor the dark web," I told Zane. "Wait for my orders."

Without waiting for a reply, I climbed the stairs and stepped into the luxurious, spacious cabin of the private jet.

Callan was already seated on a wide cream leather sofa. His eyes were glazed over slightly for a second—he was actively projecting his thoughts through the pack mind-link to order the pilot to take off, a silent mental channel that only pack members could share.

A second later, the heavy cabin door hissed shut and locked behind me, sealing me inside this small metal tube with my extremely dangerous Fated Mate.