Chapter 2 - The King Who Would Not Kneel|
Hazel refused to follow Adrian into the private corridor.
“I appreciate what you did,” she told him, “but I don't go into private rooms with powerful men who claim to know my secrets.”
A flicker of something almost like amusement crossed his face.
“Good.”
“Good?”
“Blind trust is a dangerous habit. Keep that instinct.”
He gestured toward the open ballroom doors.
“We can speak here, or you can leave. I will not stop you.”
Hazel studied him. Adrian Blackthorne was not handsome in the gentle, approachable way of men who wanted to be liked. He was intimidating, composed, and so entirely certain of his place in the world that the space around him seemed to organize itself.
Yet he had offered her a choice.
“I have work to finish,” she said.
“Your work is finished. The venue director signed your completion sheet five minutes ago.”
He showed her the digital confirmation.
Hazel blinked.
“And your company has been paid,” he continued. “The transfer is processing.”
“How did you arrange that so quickly?”
“I asked why a contractor who had delivered an exceptional event was still waiting for payment.”
“That isn't how things usually work.”
“Perhaps things should work differently.”
She nearly smiled, but caught herself.
Adrian noticed.
“You don't have to be afraid of me, Miss Montgomery.”
“I wasn't aware I was.”
“Your pulse says otherwise.”
“My pulse has had a difficult evening.”
That time, he did smile—a brief, startling change that softened none of his authority.
A woman in a charcoal suit approached and whispered into his ear. Adrian listened, then gave a short instruction. She departed immediately.
“Your security director?” Hazel asked.
“My chief adviser, Eleanor Vale.”
“You bring advisers to parties?”
“I bring them everywhere. People become remarkably dishonest when they think no one is keeping records.”
Hazel looked back toward the ballroom. Preston was arguing with a security officer while Genevieve stood beside him, her smile gone.
“Will you have him arrested?”
“Not tonight. The police will receive the evidence from the venue's cameras, and the pack council will review his conduct. He won't be permitted to use his rank to silence witnesses.”
“And if he says I provoked him?”
“Then he can explain why his hand was the only one that moved.”
Hazel let out a slow breath.
For five years, Preston had made her feel responsible for his temper. He could insult her in private, ignore her in public, and then tell her she had embarrassed him by reacting. Hearing someone dismiss that logic so plainly left her strangely unsteady.
“Why do you care?” she asked.
Adrian's expression became unreadable.
“Because I witnessed an abuse of power.”
“That sounds like a king's answer.”
“It is.”
She waited.
He offered nothing more.
Hazel turned toward the exit.
“Then good night, Your Majesty.”
“Hazel.”
She paused at the use of her first name.
“Do you have somewhere safe to stay tonight?”
“Yes.”
It was technically true. She had booked a small room at a hotel near Penn Station, though she had not yet confirmed whether the reservation remained valid.
“Then I won't interfere,” Adrian said. “But if you need help, contact Eleanor. She'll give you a direct number.”
He handed her a plain black card.
Hazel accepted it reluctantly.
As she stepped into the cold night, her cheek still stinging, she told herself that Adrian Blackthorne was another powerful man. He might be kinder than Preston, but kindness from a king could still come with conditions.
She would not mistake one form of control for another.
Across the street, a black SUV waited beneath the hotel awning.
A man stepped out and approached her.
“Miss Montgomery?”
She backed away.
“Who are you?”
“My name is Daniel Cross. I work for the Royal Archive.”
“I don't know what that is.”
He glanced toward the hotel entrance, then lowered his voice.
“Your mother asked us to find you if your wolf ever awakened.”
Hazel felt the street tilt.
“My mother died when I was twelve.”
“I know.”
He reached into his coat and showed her an old photograph.
It depicted a young woman with Hazel's eyes standing beside a massive white wolf. Around the woman's neck hung a silver pendant bearing the same crest as Adrian's ring.
Daniel looked at her carefully.
“Your mother was the last living heir of the Moonveil bloodline.”
May you like
He paused.
“And according to the royal records, you should have been dead for twenty-four years.”
