A Strange Turn of Event

"Winter?"

Her name tasted unfamiliar on Alpha Cornelius's tongue. And yet the familiarity in his eyes stirred a cold sweat at the base of her neck.

Winter's mouth opened slightly, but no words came out.

"I… I—what… I'm not—" she stammered, blinking rapidly, trying to form a coherent sentence. Her champagne flute trembled in her hand.

Cornelius stepped closer, his graying brows lifting with faint concern. "What are you doing here?"

The words were blunt, weighted. His voice wasn't loud, but it was firm enough to make her insides twist.

"I… I'm just…" she cleared her throat and attempted a smile that came off more like a grimace, "I was invited. By a friend."

He raised a thick brow, folding his arms across his chest. "A friend?" His voice curled around the word like it was sour.

"Yes." Her voice found more strength. "A friend from work."

"I saw you with Mr Riggs earlier, you work in Riggs Corporation, don't you?"

She nodded slowly.

"I see," he murmured, though the suspicion didn't leave his eyes. "Does Alpha Vincent know you're here?"

Her heart stopped.

She barely heard anything else over the loud thumping of her blood in her ears. Alpha Vincent. His name always summoned fear and hate like a curse on her tongue. But before she could even think of a lie—

Her breath caught.

Darren.

He was approaching from behind her.

No—no, no, not now.

Winter's body acted on instinct. She reached forward and grabbed Alpha Cornelius's wrist.

He looked startled. "Winter—"

"Can we talk somewhere more private?" she whispered quickly, eyes wide with panic.

Cornelius frowned. "Why—?"

"Please," she insisted, tugging his arm gently. "I'll explain everything."

He allowed her to lead him. Around the corner. Down a short marble hallway lit with gold sconces and soft shadows. They passed two empty rooms before slipping into a side hall that was quieter—where the music became a distant echo, and no one wandered.

She let go of his hand and took a step back, drawing in a shaky breath.

"I can't have Alpha Vincent know I'm here," she said.

Cornelius stared at her.

"I'm not supposed to be at this party," she continued. "No one from the Stone Pack knows. And if Vincent finds out, I don't know what he'll do."

His expression hardened slightly, the creases on his face deepening. "What kind of trouble are you in, girl?"

Winter shook her head. "None. I just… I'm trying to live my life without him watching over my shoulder like I'm a prisoner. I came here with a friend. That's all. But if Vincent hears I'm fraternizing with people outside the Pack, especially…" her voice dropped, "especially humans, he'll lose it."

Cornelius tilted his head, eyeing her with something between sympathy and shrewd calculation.

She clasped her hands together, voice soft and urgent. "Please. Don't tell him. I'm begging you. Just… pretend you didn't see me here."

He looked at her for a long moment, as though studying her soul.

Then, finally, a slow nod.

"Alright," he murmured.

Relief spread across her face.

"But—" he raised a finger.

Her heart dipped again.

"I'll keep your little secret… on one condition."

Winter stiffened. "What condition?"

His eyes, once soft with age, suddenly gleamed with something much darker—predatory and unapologetic. They roamed over her slowly, deliberately. From her curled brunette hair to her trembling lips, down the curve of her shoulders to the dip of her waist.

He smiled—slight, serpentine.

"You meet me. Tonight. In my suite upstairs."

Winter blinked. Once. Twice. "What?"

His voice lowered. "Room 514. Midnight."

She took a step back, repulsed. "You're joking."

"I'm not."

"I'm not going to—"

"I don't need anything more than your presence," he said, his voice laced with insinuation. "Just a conversation. A drink. Company." His smile widened slightly. "Unless you want more."

Winter's stomach churned.

"You're disgusting," she whispered.

But even as the words left her mouth, she heard footsteps echoing behind her again—light, confident. Darren.

Winter's eyes darted toward the ballroom. She saw him just beyond the glass archway, moving through the crowd with a drink in hand, his gaze sweeping the room like a hawk hunting prey.

He was looking for her.

Panic flooded her chest again.

Cornelius leaned closer. "It's just one night, sweetheart."

Her jaw clenched. She turned from him. "I'll be back."

He said nothing.

She slipped from the corridor and back into the ballroom, weaving through elegantly dressed strangers, keeping to the shadows.

Darren hadn't spotted her yet.

She crouched behind one of the marble pillars, peeking around it to check his location. He was scanning the crowd, champagne flute held between his fingers, expression unreadable.

She ducked and made her way toward a waiter with a tray of glasses.

"I need one," she whispered urgently, swapping her empty flute for a full one. She planned to pretend she went to grab another flute of champagne.

When she looked back toward where Darren had stood, her stomach sank.

He was gone.

Vanished into the glittering crowd like smoke in the wind.

She stood on tiptoe, searching for the wine-red tux, the sleek hair, the blue eyes—but he was nowhere. Had he seen her sneaking around? Had he left?

Her chest tightened with guilt.

But there was no time.

She turned sharply on her heel and hurried back through the corridor toward Cornelius. She was going to decline his sick offer and have him make another offer. Either way, she had to ensure he doesn't tell Alpha Vincent he had seen her in Italy with a human man.

But when she rounded the corner—

She stopped.

Dead still.

"No," she whispered.

Alpha Cornelius sat slumped against the wall.

His suit was rumpled, stained with something dark—blood.

His eyes stared ahead.

Unseeing.

Winter stumbled forward in horror, nearly dropping her glass.

His fingers.

All ten of them.

Gone.

Brutally chopped. Jagged red ends where flesh and bone had once been.

The floor beneath him was slick, the scent of iron thick in the air.

Her breath hitched. "No… no, no, no—"

She backed up against the wall, champagne flute slipping from her fingers and shattering on the tiles beside her. Her heart was a thunderstorm.

What happened?

Who could have done this?

No sound. No scream. No footsteps. It had been minutes since she left him. Minutes.

And now… this?

Her hands flew to her mouth, trying to stifle the sob rising in her throat.

She reached for her phone with trembling fingers, but then—

A sound.

A whisper of air.

Behind her.

Winter spun around, eyes wide.

No one.

But she felt it—cold air across her neck, the hair on her arms standing. Like something had just passed by her.

Or was still there.

Watching.

Waiting.

The golden hallway suddenly felt like a coffin.

She turned back to Cornelius—his body unmoving, the blood now pooling under his side.

Her throat tightened as something inside her snapped.

She had to find Darren.

She had to get out.