The moment my eyes landed on John, my body tensed instinctively.
My wolf recoiled first.
He sat there far too relaxed, dressed loosely, completely at ease within his own territory. Everything about him screamed ownership—this space, this moment, even the air I was breathing. Still, I reminded myself that I had no right to judge an Alpha's habits or preferences. This was business. Nothing more.
I forced my shoulders to relax and walked over, sitting on the couch across from him. I handed him my draft, keeping my movements calm and professional.
"Please take a look at the design I prepared for you, Alpha Curtis," I said evenly. "Let me know if there's anything you'd like adjusted."
John flipped through the pages slowly. As he read, his expression softened into clear satisfaction.
"These are excellent," he said, smiling. "You really live up to your reputation, Miss Tillman. I like your designs very much."
I nodded politely, my wolf staying alert beneath the surface.
He stood and poured a cup of tea, then placed it in front of me. "Have some tea. We can discuss the pack contract afterward."
"I'm fine," I replied gently. "I already ate with my packmates earlier."
His smile thinned.
"You don't need to act like an outsider here," he said, his tone sharpening. "You're already in my den. Refusing a drink from the host—don't you think that's disrespectful?"
The pressure in the room shifted instantly.
Alpha dominance pressed down on me, heavy and deliberate. I stared at the cup, my instincts screaming that something was off. But I also knew this was his territory. Open defiance here could turn dangerous.
After a brief pause, I reached for the cup and took a few sips.
"Alpha Curtis," I said calmly as I set it down, "it's already quite late. Why don't we sign the contract now? My colleague is still waiting outside."
His gaze flickered.
"Your colleague?" he asked.
"Yes," I replied smoothly, offering a faint smile. "He brought me here since I didn't drive. This area isn't easy to leave from, so I'll need him to take me home later."
I made sure the implication was clear. Someone knew where I was. Someone was waiting.
John leaned back slightly. "I should go over the draft again. I didn't examine it closely enough earlier. Please wait."
He lowered his eyes to the pages, but I could feel his attention on me instead. His scent shifted—calculating, predatory.
So what if someone is waiting?
You've already drunk the tea.
A strange warmth began spreading through my chest, subtle but unmistakable. My wolf stirred uneasily, instincts clashing, senses blurring just enough to make me frown.
I didn't know it yet, but the tea hadn't been ordinary.
John had prepared it deliberately.
This was his pattern. His method. He would ensure compliance first, then silence afterward—with money, influence, and power. It had always worked. Wolves and humans alike bent under the weight of his tactics.
As he continued flipping through the pages, his lips curved slightly, confident and patient.
I sat there, unaware that the bond between instinct and reason inside me was already starting to fray.
Night had truly begun.
And in this Alpha's den, I was no longer just a guest—I was prey.
As I waited for John to finish reviewing the draft, a strange sensation crept over me.
Cold sweat gathered along the back of my neck, yet my chest felt uncomfortably warm, like heat was building beneath my skin. I frowned slightly, lifting a hand to my collarbone. Maybe the air circulation in the living room wasn't strong enough. Alpha territories often ran warmer—something about dominance saturating the space.
Before I could think too deeply about it, John stood up and poured another cup of tea, moving with practiced ease.
"Miss Tillman, you look overheated," he said smoothly. "Here, have another cup."
I didn't sense immediate danger. My instincts felt dull, strangely muted, as if wrapped in cotton. I took the cup and drank.
The cool liquid slid down my throat, soothing me for a brief moment.
I had no idea I'd just swallowed more poison meant for my wolf.
"Is there something wrong with the draft?" I asked anxiously, my impatience growing. I wanted to leave—now. Every second inside this den felt heavier than the last.
"There's nothing wrong," John replied easily. "I trust your ability. Give me a moment. I need to use the washroom."
He turned and walked away, unhurried.
I didn't know he was stalling.
He was waiting for the drug to awaken fully, waiting for my instincts to spiral out of my control, for my body to betray me. By the time it peaked, he believed I'd submit willingly to whatever he demanded.
Meanwhile, I shifted on the couch, growing more uncomfortable by the second. The heat intensified, spreading through my limbs, creeping into my core. My face burned, my breathing grew uneven.
This isn't normal.
Then it hit me.
A sudden, overwhelming surge rose from deep within my body, sharp and consuming. My wolf jolted awake in panic, senses screaming all at once.
My legs went weak.
Why does my body feel numb?
Why does it feel like something is burning me from the inside out—eating away at my thoughts, my restraint, my reason?
My gaze snapped to the cup in my hand… then to the teapot on the table.
Realization crashed into me like a blow.
My heart thundered. I shot to my feet and bolted out of the living room, instincts screaming flee flee flee.
By the time John returned, I had already staggered into the yard, my steps unsteady, my vision blurring.
"Where are you going, Miss Tillman?"
His voice followed me, low and twisted, no longer bothering to hide its cruelty.
I spun around, fury and fear colliding inside me. "What did you put in my drink?!"
John smiled.
Not the polite, refined smile of an Alpha client—but the predatory grin of a wolf who thought his prey was already caught.
"Anastasia Tillman," he said slowly, "you caught my attention the moment I saw you. You're beautiful. There's no way I wouldn't want you. Stay the night. I promise I'll treat you well."
His true intentions bared themselves at last, ugly and undeniable.
"G-Get away from me!" I roared, forcing my trembling legs to hold. "I don't offer anything except draft designs. Nothing else. Stay away from me!"
He stepped closer, utterly confident.
"You've been dosed," he said calmly. "If you don't find a man to help you soon, your body is going to feel much worse."
My wolf snarled in terror and rage.
Human will fought desperately against corrupted instinct, but the drug was already sinking its claws into me—twisting heat, need, and vulnerability together into something dangerous.
And deep down, beneath the panic, I felt the most terrifying truth of all.
I was losing control.