My Fated Mate, My Coldest Enemy.

Emery POV

My heart was still hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs as I navigated the corridors to the Liaison Department. The lingering scent of rain and burning amber from the CEO's office clung to my senses, a ghostly reminder of the man who had looked at me with such raw, inexplicable hatred.

Pull yourself together, Emery, I scolded myself. You are here to work. You are here to survive.

The Liaison Department was a sprawling open-plan space encased in glass, offering a panoramic view of Seattle's grey skyline. Heads turned as I entered. I could feel the weight of their gazes—curious, dismissive, predatory.

Janice Spears was waiting for me near a corner office, her arms crossed over her chest. The fake smile was back, plastered onto her face like a sticker.

"You survived," she said, her tone suggesting she had bet against it. "Alpha Madden can be... intense."

"He's passionate about the company," I lied smoothly, refusing to let her see my rattled nerves. "Where do I start?"

Janice's eyes glinted. She picked up a thick red folder from a nearby desk and held it out. "We have a situation. The Crimson Fang Pack. Their Alpha, Marcus Thorne, is in Conference Room B waiting to finalize the annual joint training protocols. It's a formality, really, but he insists on a face-to-face."

She stepped closer, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Honestly, nobody else is available. If you can get his signature, you'll prove to everyone—including the CEO—that you belong here. Unless, of course, you're not up for it?"

It was a challenge. I could smell the deception on her—it smelled like sulfur and cheap perfume—but I didn't have the luxury of refusing. I needed a win.

"I'll handle it," I said, taking the folder.

Janice's smile widened, showing too many teeth. "Excellent. Don't keep him waiting."

I walked toward the conference room, ignoring the pitying looks from the other staff members. I straightened my blazer, took a deep breath, and pushed open the heavy glass door.

The room was soundproof, cutting off the hum of the office instantly. Seated at the far end of the long mahogany table was a man who looked less like an Alpha and more like a caricature of one. Marcus Thorne was heavy-set, with greasy blonde hair slicked back and a suit that strained at the buttons.

He didn't look at the file I placed on the table. He looked at my legs.

"You're new," Marcus drawled, his voice thick and wet. "Blackwood usually sends me old men in grey suits. I like this change."

"I'm Emery Travis, the new Liaison Officer," I said, keeping my voice professional and cold. I opened the folder. "We need to review the liability clauses on page four, Alpha Thorne."

"Boring," he grunted, waving a hand dismissively. He stood up and began to circle the table, moving with a predatory slowness. The scent of him hit me then—stale cigar smoke and unwashed musk. My inner wolf curled her lip in disgust.

"I don't care about clauses, sweetheart," Marcus said, stopping right behind my chair. "I care about hospitality. And Blackwood has been very... cold lately."

I stood up abruptly, putting the chair between us. "If you aren't interested in the contract, I can reschedule."

"Sit down," he snapped, his eyes flashing a muddy yellow. "You think you can dismiss an Alpha? You're just a little Omega bitch in a skirt."

He lunged.

It wasn't an attack to kill; it was an attack to dominate. He closed the distance before I could react, his hand gripping the back of my neck. He yanked me forward, forcing my head to the side.

"Let's see if you smell as good as you look," he hissed, burying his nose toward my scent gland.

It was a violation. In our world, scenting another wolf without permission was an act of claiming, a prelude to assault.

"Get off me!" I shouted, stomping my heel down onto his foot.

Marcus howled in pain and loosened his grip. I scrambled back, my back hitting the cold glass wall.

"You little whore!" Marcus roared, his face turning purple. "I'll tear this alliance to shreds! I'll have your Alpha begging on his knees before I—"

BOOM.

The double doors didn't just open; they exploded inward, slamming against the walls with a force that shook the floor.

Aiden Madden stood in the doorway.

He wasn't the CEO anymore. He was pure, unadulterated violence. His suit jacket was gone, his sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms corded with muscle. But it was the air around him that terrified me. It crackled with black electricity, the pressure in the room dropping so sharply my ears popped.

His eyes were pitch black. The wolf was in control.

Marcus froze, the color draining from his face. "Alpha Madden, I was just—"

"Silence."

The command wasn't shouted. It was a low, guttural growl that vibrated through the very marrow of my bones. It was the Alpha's Command.

Marcus dropped to his knees as if invisible hands had crushed him. He gasped for air, clutching his throat, his eyes bulging with terror.

Aiden didn't even look at him. He crossed the room in two long strides, placing himself directly between me and the kneeling Alpha. The scent of storm and pine enveloped me, thick and suffocatingly protective.

Mine. Safe. Mine.

The voice in my head was deafening. Aiden's back was a wall of tension, his shoulders heaving as he fought for control.

"You touched her," Aiden said. His voice was devoid of humanity. It was the sound of a monster contemplating murder. "You dared to touch what is in my territory."

"She... she disrespected me!" Marcus wheezed, trying to resist the crushing pressure of Aiden's aura.

"The alliance is terminated," Aiden stated, his tone final. "If you are not out of my building in thirty seconds, I will remove your head from your shoulders and mail it to your Beta."

"Get. Out."

The pressure lifted just enough for Marcus to scramble to his feet. He didn't look at me. He didn't look at Aiden. He ran, stumbling over his own feet in his haste to escape the predator that had just filled the room.

Silence descended, heavy and suffocating.

I stared at Aiden's broad back, my breath catching in my throat. He had saved me. The man who looked at me with hatred had just nearly killed an ally to protect me.

Slowly, Aiden turned around. The black was fading from his eyes, replaced by that turbulent, stormy blue. He looked at me, his chest heaving, his expression a war zone of fury and... something else. Something that looked terrifyingly like possession.

"Are you hurt?" he demanded, the words sharp and clipped.

I shook my head, unable to speak.

He didn't offer comfort. He didn't ask what happened. He just stared at me, his jaw clenched so tight a muscle ticked in his cheek, as if my very presence was a torture he couldn't escape.