My Fated Mate, My Coldest Enemy.

Emery POV

The elevator in the Blackwood Corp Tower was a glass cage, ascending smoothly toward the heavens, but my stomach felt like it was plummeting straight to hell.

Outside, the city of Seattle was a sprawling grid of grey and steel, indifferent to my humiliation. An hour ago, I had stood on a windy tarmac, waiting for a husband who never came. No Alpha. No welcome. Just a text message to a low-level employee to come and fetch "the package."

That employee was standing next to me now.

Janice Spears. She was a sharp-featured woman with a smile that didn't reach her calculating eyes. She had been studying me since I got into her car, her gaze lingering on my clothes, my hair, searching for flaws.

"It's quite a surprise," Janice said, her voice dripping with faux sweetness. "Usually, positions in the executive wing are reserved for Pack members who have served for years. It makes one wonder what kind of... persuasion you used to get the Alpha to bypass protocol."

The implication hung in the air, thick and ugly. She thought I slept my way into a job I didn't even want.

I turned slowly, meeting her gaze. I had grown up in the Silvermoon Pack, where politics were as sharp as claws. I knew how to handle a bully.

"My resume speaks for itself, Janice," I said, my voice cool and steady. "And unless your job description includes questioning the Alpha's decisions, I suggest you focus on the floor numbers."

Janice's mouth snapped shut. Her cheeks flushed a mottled red, the scent of her irritation—sour milk and burnt rubber—filling the small space. She didn't speak again until the doors slid open on the top floor.

"This way," she clipped, stepping out onto the polished marble floor.

The penthouse level was silent, oppressive. It felt less like an office and more like a temple dedicated to a cruel god. As we approached the massive double doors at the end of the hall, Janice stopped, smoothing her skirt. She seemed to need a moment to compose herself before entering the sanctuary.

"You should know," Janice whispered, her tone shifting to one of reverent defense. "Alpha Madden is a man of immense honor. He takes his responsibilities very seriously. If he wasn't at the airfield today, it's because he was handling a crisis. Protecting the Pack. He doesn't have time for... social pleasantries."

I almost laughed. Honor? Leaving your arranged bride standing on a runway like unwanted luggage was honor?

"I'm sure he's a regular hero," I replied dryly. "A coward hiding behind 'Pack business' is still a coward."

Janice gasped, looking at me with horror, but before she could defend her precious leader, she pushed the heavy oak doors open.

"Go in. The CEO is expecting you."

I stepped across the threshold, and the world tilted.

The scent hit me first. It wasn't the sterile smell of an office. It was a physical force—a storm crashing into a forest, wild rain, crushed pine needles, and something dark, sweet, and electric like burning amber.

My breath hitched in my throat. My heart, which had been beating a steady rhythm of anger, suddenly hammered against my ribs. Thump-thump-thump. A violent, desperate cadence.

Safe. Home. Whole.

The strange, alien thoughts whispered through my mind, bringing a sudden, terrifying sense of peace to my battered soul. My knees went weak.

I looked up.

The office was enormous, a throne room of glass and mahogany. But I saw none of it. My vision tunneled toward the man sitting behind the desk.

He was massive. Even seated, his shoulders were broad, straining against the fabric of his charcoal suit. His dark hair was slightly disheveled, as if he had been running his hands through it in frustration.

He wasn't looking at me. He was staring at a file on his desk, his hand gripping a pen so hard I thought it might snap.

"Sir?" I managed to choke out.

He looked up.

His eyes were the color of a turbulent ocean, dark and swirling with a rage so potent it felt like a physical blow. When his gaze locked onto mine, a jolt of electricity arced through the air, sizzling against my skin.

I shivered, my body betraying me. I expected him to speak, to introduce himself. I assumed this was the CEO, a high-ranking Beta perhaps, running the business while my coward husband played soldier.

But he didn't speak. He stared at me with a mixture of hunger and hatred that made my blood run cold.

"Emery Travis," he said. His voice was a low rumble, vibrating in my chest. It wasn't a greeting; it was an accusation.

He tossed my resume across the desk. It slid over the polished wood and stopped at the edge.

"I see here you have a background in graphic design," he said, his tone dripping with ice. "We are a logistics and security conglomerate, Ms. Travis. We deal in facts, in steel, in blood. What use do I have for someone who draws pretty pictures?"

The insult was sharp enough to cut through the strange, intoxicating haze clouding my mind. He was trying to intimidate me. He was just another arrogant male in power.

I straightened my spine, forcing my trembling legs to hold still.

"A company that deals in steel and blood needs a face that doesn't terrify the public," I countered, surprised by the steadiness of my own voice. "Design isn't about pretty pictures, sir. It's about controlling the narrative. And judging by the fear in your receptionist's eyes, your narrative needs work."

Silence stretched between us, taut as a bowstring.

The man stood up. He towered over the desk, his knuckles white as he leaned forward. For a second, I thought he was going to lunge at me. The scent of storm and pine intensified, suffocating me, making my inner wolf whine in submission.

Mine, a voice in my head whispered. Danger, my logic screamed.

"Get out," he growled, his voice rough, as if the words physically hurt him. "Report to the Liaison Department. Don't make me regret letting you into this building."

I turned and fled, my heart racing not from fear, but from a confusing, devastating thrill I couldn't understand. I hated him. He was rude, aggressive, and terrifying.

So why did my soul feel like it was being torn in half as the heavy doors clicked shut behind me?