Page 18 of Hunted By the Wolves
The space beyond was vast—polished floors, clean lines, controlled lighting that felt more military than corporate.It reminded her, oddly, of a hospital crossed with a command bunker.Efficient.Purpose-built.
Her reaction must have shown on her face, because Dorian glanced back at her with a faint, knowing smile.
“Elara had the same look,” he said.
“Elara?”
“She’s with our commanders, Ivan and Victor,” Rafe added.“She’s a scientist and basically brilliant.She was absolutely terrified her first time down here.”
That helped.A little.
They parked and stepped out, the air cooler here, filtered.Riley followed them, acutely aware of how close they stayed—not crowding her, but never more than an arm’s reach away.
They took the lift.Rafe keyed them in without comment, and the doors slid shut with a muted thud.The car moved smoothly upward, stopping at the ninth floor.
“This is our floor,” Dorian said as the doors opened
The wolves’ level was quieter than she expected.Not empty, but deliberately contained.This wasn’t a work floor, it felt more like a penthouse carved into concrete and steel.The space opened wide as she stepped in, ceilings higher than she’d anticipated, clean architectural lines softened by lived-in comfort.Deep couches were arranged toward the city-facing windows that ran the length of the wall, the glass reinforced but perfectly clear to let the skyline bleed in.
A long, solid table sat at the heart of the room, not scarred from use, but polished, deliberate, the kind of place meant for shared meals and late-night conversations.Doors led off to private rooms, discreet and unobtrusive.The air carried the faint scent of coffee, clean soap, and something warm and familiar.Restrained.Controlled.A home designed for two men who needed space, privacy, and quiet after violence.
“It’s ...calm,” she said.
Rafe nodded.“We like it that way.”
She believed him.
She noticed how Rafe and Dorian moved together—synchronized, often communicating without words.A glance.A shift of weight.A subtle change in posture.
Bonded.
The word surfaced unbidden, and heat curled low in her stomach.She shoved it away, unsettled by the flicker of awareness that followed.The tension between them wasn’t overt, but it was there, a current she felt every time one of them came too close.
“We would like to take you upstairs to the Command Center,” he said.“That way we can introduce you to the rest of E.S.E.If you’re okay with that.It means telling your story once to everyone who needs to hear it.”
Dorian stayed quiet, watching her face.Not pushing.
Riley considered it.The idea made her stomach tighten, but the alternative was worse.It would be hard enough to tell the story once, let alone multiple times.
“Yes,” she said finally.“I’d rather do it once.”
Rafe nodded.“Then we’ll take you up.”
They took the lift again, as it was only one floor up, it was a quick trip.
The Command Center was bigger than she expected.Louder.Alive in a way the Wolves’ floor hadn’t been.Screens lined the walls in tiers, data scrolling in controlled streams.Voices from news reports showing on the screens overlapped in low, purposeful tones.People moved with intent, not rushed, not chaotic, but always in motion.
Riley had no idea who was who.
She registered size, posture, energy—not names, not roles.A wall of presence met them as they stepped inside, different weights of attention settled on her at once.Some gazes were sharp and curious, others steady and assessing.No one stared exactly, but no one ignored her either.
She slowed without meaning to, stopping just inside the threshold.
Her shoulders drew in before she could stop herself, her weight shifting back a fraction as her gaze flicked instinctively to exits, corners, cover.
Rafe saw it immediately, the hitch in her step, the way her breathing changed.
He leaned in just enough that only she could hear him.“We’ll keep this controlled.No one crowds you.No one touches you unless you say so.”
