Vivian Black didn't believe in ghosts.
But she believed in the way the night sometimes held its breath like something old and hungry was watching.
Tonight, the city felt like that.
Still.
Waiting.
She crouched on the rusted fire escape across from the warehouse, fingers steady on the cold metal railing. Below, the docks of Blackwater District pulsed with late night traffic trucks groaning, men shouting, the oily scent of the harbor thick in the air.
Normal people saw cargo.
Vivian saw patterns.
And tonight, the pattern screamed wolf.
Her dark curls were shoved under a worn hood, her leather jacket scuffed from too many close calls. A thin silver blade rested against her wrist, hidden but ready. Always ready.
Because the men inside that warehouse?
They weren't just traffickers.
They were pack-adjacent.
Which meant they were already dead.
Vivian exhaled slowly and checked her watch.
Two minutes.
Her heartbeat stayed calm, but something under her ribs twisted tight the same instinct that had kept her alive since she was sixteen and running alone.
Lone wolf instinct.
Not pack wolf.
Not civilized.
Not welcome anywhere.
A survivor's breed.
"Don't overthink it," she muttered under her breath.
Then she moved.
The back entrance gave with barely a creak.
Inside, the warehouse smelled wrong.
Metal.
Fear.
And underneath it
Wolf.
Vivian's jaw tightened.
Yeah. Definitely not just human trafficking.
Her boots made no sound on the concrete as she slipped between stacked crates, senses stretched thin. Voices echoed from the far end of the building.
"…shipment moves before dawn"
"Boss said no delays this time"
Vivian edged closer, pulse slow and controlled.
Three men.
One wolf.
She could smell the difference.
The wolf stood near the center table big, broad shoulders, posture too still to be human. Not fully shifted, but close enough that the predator in him pressed against her nerves.
Pack muscle.
Not alpha.
Good.
She rolled her shoulders once.
Then stepped into the light.
"Evening, gentlemen."
The reaction was instant.
Chairs scraped.
Hands went for weapons.
The wolf's head snapped toward her, eyes flashing gold.
Vivian smiled.
"Relax," she said lightly. "I'm just here for a conversation."
The first man lunged.
Big mistake.
Vivian moved faster than most wolves expected from someone her size. Her blade flashed once, clean and precise, and the man dropped with a choked gasp.
The other human swore and reached for his gun.
Too slow.
She kicked the table hard, sending it slamming into his knees. Bone cracked. He went down screaming.
That left the wolf.
Silence stretched between them, thick and electric.
His lips peeled back slightly.
"You shouldn't be here," he growled.
Vivian tilted her head.
"And yet… here I am."
The air shifted.
Predator to predator.
His muscles bunched.
She felt the exact second he decided to attack.
Vivian moved first.
Steel met flesh.
The fight was brutal and too close, too loud, the wolf stronger than the others but sloppy with overconfidence. Vivian fought like she always did: efficient, precise, merciless.
Survival didn't reward hesitation.
Thirty seconds later, the wolf hit the floor hard.
Still breathing.
Barely.
Vivian crouched beside him, pressing the edge of her blade lightly under his jaw.
"Let's try this again," she said softly. "Who are you moving through Blackwater?"
The wolf spat blood.
"Go to hell."
She sighed.
Why did they always say that?
Her grip tightened
and then every survival instinct she had screamed.
Vivian froze.
The warehouse air had changed.
Not louder.
Not obvious.
Just…
Heavier.
Her pulse ticked up once.
Slowly, very slowly, she rose to her feet.
She wasn't alone anymore.
A voice drifted from the shadows behind her smooth, controlled, and far too calm.
"You have a very dramatic way of introducing yourself, Vivian Black."
Her blood went ice-cold.
Nobody
Nobody
as supposed to know her name.
Vivian turned.
And for the first time in a long time…
She felt something dangerously close to fear.
He stood near the far support column like he'd been there the whole time.
Tall.
Still.
Power rolling off him in quiet, suffocating waves.
Not pack muscle.
Not beta.
Alpha.
A real one.
Her grip on the blade tightened automatically.
Dark eyes studied her with unsettling focus. His suit was immaculate despite the warehouse grime, his posture relaxed in the way of someone who had never, ever needed to rush.
Vivian's voice came out cool, even as her pulse started to pound.
"…You're in my way."
One corner of his mouth lifted slightly.
"Am I?"
The air between them tightened.
Vivian forced her breathing to stay slow.
Think.
Assess.
Survive.
"Who are you?" she asked flatly.
His gaze didn't leave her face.
"Jamo Star."
The name hit like a punch to the ribs.
Every rumor.
Every whispered warning.
Every story about the alpha who ran the city's wolf underworld with surgical precision.
Vivian's expression didn't change.
Inside, alarms screamed.
Well.
This night just got complicated.
Jamo's eyes flicked briefly to the bodies around her, then back.
"You've made quite a mess in my territory."
Her chin lifted slightly.
"Then maybe you should manage your wolves better."
Silence.
Sharp.
Dangerous.
For a split second, something dark flickered in his expression—interest, maybe. Or irritation.
Hard to tell.
"You're bold," he said.
Vivian gave a humorless smile.
"I'm alive."
Their gazes locked.
Predator.
Predator.
The tension between them snapped tight enough to bleed.
Jamo took one slow step forward.
Vivian didn't move.
Didn't retreat.
Didn't show the spike of adrenaline now hammering through her veins.
His voice dropped slightly.
"You've been hunting my supply lines for three months."
Not a question.
Her stomach tightened.
So he had been watching.
"Maybe your supply lines shouldn't involve human trafficking," she shot back.
Something colder slid into his gaze.
"Careful."
Vivian leaned her weight slightly onto one hip, deliberately casual.
"Or what?"
The temperature in the warehouse seemed to drop ten degrees.
For a long moment, neither of them moved.
Then
Unexpectedly
Jamo smiled.
It wasn't warm.
It wasn't kind.
It was the kind of smile that belonged to men who built empires out of bones.
"Well," he said quietly, "this just became interesting."
Vivian's instincts screamed.
Danger.
Trap.
Complication.
And somehow
worse than all of that
interest sparked low in her chest, sharp and unwelcome.
She shoved it down hard.
Not the time.
Not the place.
Not him.
Jamo's gaze sharpened slightly, like he'd sensed the shift anyway.
"Walk away tonight," he said softly, "and I might pretend this never happened."
Vivian met his eyes.
Steady.
Unyielding.
"Yeah," she said. "That's not happening."
Something dark and approving flickered across his face
and then his next words dropped like a blade.
"Then I suppose," Jamo Star said calmly, "we need to talk about your brother."
Everything inside Vivian went violently still.
Her voice came out barely above a whisper.
"…What did you just say?"
Jamo's eyes held hers.
Unblinking.
Controlled.
And far too knowing.
"I said," he repeated softly, "we need to talk about the brother you think is dead."
The world tilted.
Just slightly.
Just enough.
Vivian's grip tightened on her blade
but for the first time tonight…
her hands weren't completely steady.