Chapter 24

Dahlia.

"Those wolves, were they from your pack?" I signed, trying to look cool, but my fingers felt like they were auditioning for a clumsy interpretive dance.

She nodded. "Those were betas from my pack. I hope they didn't scare you."

Scare me? Nah. Seeing oversized wolves casually strolling around was totally normal. I was only slightly terrified—right until a lightning bolt shot down like Mother Nature had a grudge, and my husband emerged from the woods like the grand finale of a werewolf fashion show.

"What's it like being a werewolf? Do you enjoy the whole pack thing? Does shifting hurt, or is it more of a magical sneeze?" My curiosity was practically foaming at the mouth.

"It's alright, I guess. Packs are kind of overrated. And shifting doesn't h.urt—it's like changing into a furry onesie. Comfy and warm, but without the zipper drama," she signed casually.

"Good, because I'm not a theory kind of girl. Books? Ugh. They put me to sleep faster than a post-Thanksgiving nap."

She chuckled. "Well, let's start with the basics. Werewolves live in packs—though some are loners, we call them rogues. There are five packs: RedBl00d, Lightbound, SilverMoon, Moonshadow, and Bound Pack. RedBlood's got the Lycans; Alpha Rath leads them. Each pack's got its own flair. Lightbound wolves are lightning-charged, SilverMoon wolves poof out a cr.eepy black smoke, Moonshadow wolves release some kind of white fog, and RedBlood Lycans? Their transformation's so dramatic, you'd think an angel cra.sh-landed. Wings sold separately."

Her explanation was top-notch, way better than anything I'd ever read. Books had the personality of stale toast.

"What happens when you find your mate?" I asked, eagerly.

She tucked her hair behind her ear, looking amused. "Well, he marks you and claims you. Very caveman, I know. If he rejects you, you have to accept it—or awkwardly cry into a pint of ice cream. Customs vary, though."

Finally, someone with the answers I craved. "How long have you known Rath?" I signed, trying not to look too nosy.

"Since I was a teen. My parents did business with his company. I worked as an intern in his shipping company, so we bumped into each other a lot," she replied.

It hit me—I'd never even asked my husband what he actually did for a living. Seriously, the guy was loaded. Mansion? Check. Sauna? Check. A garage packed with cars so fancy they probably came with personal chauffeurs? Double check. And yet, here I was, jobless and still debating whether it was socially acceptable to snoop around his room.

"What does he do for a living?" I asked, half-expecting her to say something dramatic like "supervill.ain" or "professional br00der."

Her eyes widened like I'd just asked if the sky was blue. "He's literally a billionaire. Owns a bunch of companies, and rumor has it he's about to hit trillionaire status before the year's out. The list of his businesses is so long, you'd need a team of interns just to read through it," she explained, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

I blinked, staring at the mansion looming behind us. Yep, he was stinking rich. Meanwhile, I couldn't even afford premium streaming without cringing at the price.

Spotting Billie wiping the windows like they owed her money, I squinted. "What about Billie? Who is she to him? Butler? Maid? Secret ninja assassin?"

"She's his butler, but he treats her like his prized possession. Once, some poor guy made a sleazy comment about Billie, and let's just say... the man lost his heart. Literally. While it was still be.ating," she said nonchalantly, like that was a normal Tuesday.

Interesting. Te.rrifying, but interesting. At least it showed he cared about Billie in a weird, h0m1cidal way.

"By the way, your dancing! How do you flow so perfectly without being able to hear?" she asked, her curiosity sparkling.

I grinned like a kid showing off their first gold star. "Every song has a count—four-beat, eight-beat. I've just mastered recognizing the rhythm through that. Once I figure out the dance style, I count it out and go with the flow," I signed confidently. "People think not hearing is a disadvantage, but honestly, I've learned to make the impossible look easy."

Her face lit up. "You have to teach me someday! Your dancing was incredible. I bet Alpha Raider was losing his mind."

Wait, Raider's an Alpha? My eyebrows shot up so fast they almost escaped my forehead.

"You didn't know, did you?" she signed, clearly amused.

I shook my head furiously. All he told me was his name, not his werewolf résumé.

"You seriously don't know who he is to Alpha Rath?" she asked, her hands moving like this was some kind of gossip Olympic event.

"Nope," I signed back, practically vibrating with curiosity. Oh, this was going to be good. Secrets about the tall, broody husband with the sc.ary lightning entrance? Count me in.

"Alpha Raider is..."

~~~~~~~~~

Rath.

I entered the studio, and Raider greeted me with a glare sharp enough to slice bread. He whispered something to Dan, who promptly got up, bowed like he was auditioning for a royal court, and glided past me with a smug grin.

"I wasn't expecting you," Raider remarked, his tone dripping with just enough annoyance to make it clear I was the last thing he wanted to deal with today. I closed the door behind me with a soft click, resisting the urge to slam it just to test his patience.

"Billie told me you visited my house. Why didn't you call?" I asked, cutting straight to the point.

"You were in a meeting. Didn't want to interrupt," he replied, rocking slightly in his chair like he had all the time in the world.

"And you thought talking to her was the better option?" I pressed, folding my arms.

He nodded, smirking like he'd just won a game of chess I didn't know we were playing.

"Why this sudden interest in her? You were the one who was dead-set against me marrying a human," I shot back.

Raider stood up, arms crossed and full of smug Alpha energy. "I was against you marrying a human. I never said anything about this one," he clarified, his grin widening.

His newfound obs.ession with the human girl was craw.ling under my skin. To make matters worse, she'd royally scre.wed up last night. If I hadn't stepped in, those wolves would've turned her into a chew toy.

"Cut her some slack," Raider said, his tone unusually defensive. "She's alone and trying to figure out this world. It's not easy for her."

"She needs to catch up fast," I snapped. "This realm doesn't hand out participation trophies like the human one."

Raider tilted his head, clearly unfazed. "By the way, I need a favor," he said, smoothly changing the subject.

"No favors," I shot back instantly, narrowing my eyes.

He plopped back into his chair, looking far too relaxed for someone who was probably up to something. My suspic.ions were confirmed when I noticed a book poking out from under his notebook: Sign Language for Beginners.

Raider's grin turned downright dev.ilish when he saw me looking. I didn't trust that smile. It screamed, I'm plotting something, and you're going to hate it.

"I listed my house for sale. I'll need a temporary place to stay while I find a new one," he announced.

I raised an eyebrow. "You're rich. Don't you have, like, a dozen luxury hotels you could crash in?"

"My suite and the rentals are too far from the studio," he said, as if that explained everything. "I'll pay re.nt, I promise."

His tone was teasing, but I wasn't in the mood for his antics. Before I could tell him exactly where he could stick his "re.nt," my phone rang.

"We're not done with this," I said, sho.oting him a war.ning look as I stepped out to take the call.