Chapter 2

Emilie Holland POV:

I barely sat down in the blood-draw chair inside Room 3 before heavy, aggressive footsteps echoed right outside the door.

The next second, the solid wood door flew open and slammed against the wall with a deafening bang.

I jerked my head up. A tall, broad-shouldered man in a custom-tailored black suit stepped into the room like a god of war.

His icy silver-gray eyes locked onto me, flooding the small room with a suffocating high-grade Alpha aura.

Beside me, the nurse turned pale. She dropped the tourniquet, her knees buckling as the genetic suppression forced her toward the floor.

"Get out," the man ordered. His deep voice carried the absolute force of an Alpha's Command, a genetic compulsion that no lower-ranking wolf in this pack could ever resist.

The nurse scrambled toward the exit on shaking legs and pulled the door shut behind her, locking me inside with him.

I pressed my spine against the chair and gripped the armrests until my knuckles turned white. "Who are you? What do you want?"

He didn't answer. With one hand tucked into his trouser pocket, he walked toward me. Every click of his leather shoes against the tile made my chest tighten.

He stopped right in front of me and looked down. Even without knowing his name, the bespoke suit and crushing authority made it obvious he was an elite Alpha officer at the very top of the Silver Peak Pack.

"One thousand dollars?" he said suddenly, a cruel smirk curling his lips as he pulled his right hand out of his pocket.

My breath caught. I had no idea what he meant, but my eyes froze on the pale, calloused scar stretching from the webbing of his thumb to his knuckles.

That combat scar looked identical to the one on the masked fighter from last night. No, that was impossible. How could a noble, billionaire-level Alpha officer be a desperate pit fighter?

I forced the crazy thought out of my head and met his gaze. "Sir, you have the wrong person."

"The wrong person?" He let out a cold laugh and leaned down until his nose nearly brushed the side of my neck, his hot breath spilling over my skin.

"That disgusting, cheap herbal stink on your body—I'd recognize it even if you turned to ash," he growled against my ear.

My heart hammered against my ribs, and a strange jolt of electricity shot through my skin where his breath touched. I tried to jerk my head back, but his rough, calloused fingers clamped around my chin.

"Let go of me!" I twisted my wrists, but his grip was like an iron vise, sending a violent shiver straight down my spine.

"Didn't you come here to check for silver poison?" He released my chin and picked up a fresh blood-collection needle from the metal tray.

"I'll draw it myself." He tore open the wrapper, the steel tip glinting under the cold light.

I tried to pull my arm back, but he grabbed my wrist and pinned my forearm flat against the padded table.

"Don't move. If I pierce straight through your vein, that's on you," he warned coldly, dropping his full Alpha aura onto my shoulders like a boulder.

Any normal wolf would have whimpered and submitted under this pressure. However, because I was wolfless and had no Inner Wolf inside me, his mental domination couldn't force my soul to kneel. Instead, it sparked the stubborn fire in my bones.

I bit my lower lip until I tasted blood, blocking out the suffocating air, and glared right back into his silver-gray eyes.

A flicker of surprise crossed his face, as if he hadn't expected a lowly civilian to withstand his aura. Still, his hand didn't hesitate.

He drove the needle roughly into my vein. A sharp pain shot up my arm, but I clenched my teeth and refused to make a single sound.

Dark red blood flowed into the tube. He stared at the vial, his gaze dark and terrifyingly intense.

"Looks like you're not only heartless, you've lost your sense of pain too," he mocked, pulling the needle out and pressing a cotton swab hard against the puncture.

I yanked my arm out of his grip, held the swab myself, and looked at him coldly. "If torturing patients is your hobby, Officer, the psychiatric ward is down the hall to the left."

He stiffened, his prepared sneer dying in his throat as his face darkened like a storm cloud.

Using his brief shock, I jumped up, snatched my handbag, and marched toward the door.

"Stop right there!" he roared behind me, the temperature in the room dropping to freezing.

I didn't look back as I yanked the door open. "The blood draw is over, Sir. Your service was terrible."

I threw the words over my shoulder and hurried down the hallway in my heels, my palms soaked in cold sweat.

Only when I reached the main lobby did I dare lean against the cold wall, gasping for air as my heart raced wildly.