Page 7 of Alpha's Hidden Gem

The perks of being top dog in human society too, my wolf muses, a hint of satisfaction in his tone. Alpha in both worlds.

I can't help but feel a swell of pride at that. It's not just about protecting our own kind. In my role as inspector, I've prevented countless cases of foodborne illness, identified dangerous structural issues, and generally made this city a safer place for everyone—human and werewolf alike.

Of course, my enhanced senses give me a bit of an unfair advantage. Just last week, during an inspection at a popular sushi restaurant, I detected the subtle scent of bacteria growing in their refrigeration unit. It was a problem that could've made dozens of people sick, and yet it would've been invisible to human eyes.

Their noses, you mean, my wolf corrects, amused. Humans are so blind to the world around them.

He's not wrong. But that's why we're here—to protect them from the dangers they can't see, both mundane and supernatural. It's a responsibility I take seriously, even if it means spending my days filling out paperwork and dealing with disgruntled restaurant owners.

Necessary evils,my wolf sighs, the tedium of human bureaucracy grating on his wild instincts.But still evils.

My phone buzzes, breaking the silence. I glance down at the screen—Ethan, my beta.

"Rogue wolf sighting near the east border. Need you ASAP."

I curse under my breath, shoving the inspection report aside. Of course. It's one thing after another lately. As if dealing with my mate situation isn't enough, now I've got rogue wolves on my territory.

Fantastic.

I stand, grabbing my jacket. But before I leave, my eyes flicker back to Lila's report.

There has to be a connection.

The timing, the tip, the strange scent around her truck.

She's in danger, my wolf snaps, his growl vibrating through me.

And I'm failing her if I don't act.

"She's fine," I mutter, more to myself than him. "We've got a bigger problem right now."

I hope.

But even as I leave the office, my thoughts keep drifting back to her, an uneasy feeling gnawing at me.

I need to protect her.

The drive to the east border is a blur of trees and asphalt, the scent of the forest thick and familiar.

Home.

But under it all, there's something wrong. Something foul, festering like rot in the air. My senses flare up, and my wolf is already on edge.

It's not right.

Ethan is waiting for me when I arrive, his massive form tense, his eyes glowing with barely-contained energy.

"Caught the scent about a mile in," he reports, his voice low and steady. "Smells... wrong. Like death."

I nod, already stripping off my shirt. "Let's hunt." I don't have time for explanations or excuses. I feel the tension in my body, the primal need to run, to hunt, and to tear apart whatever's threatening my territory.

We need to end this thing now.

The shift comes over me like a storm—my bones cracking and snapping as they realign, muscles rippling with power. In seconds, I'm on four legs, my wolf towering above Ethan, who shifts beside me. Every sense sharpens—sight, sound, smell—the world around us becoming clearer, more vivid.

We tear through the trees, the air rushing past in a blur of green and brown. The scent of the rogue is overwhelming, sickly sweet, like death wrapped in decay. My wolf growls low, urging me to release him more so we can go faster.

It's close.