Samuele’s pack, had a strained history with the rival Sangue Luna pack, a proud and fierce group with a reputation for stubbornness. It had taken weeks to arrange this meeting, and both sides were wary. Samuele’s role as Beta—and his well-known calm under pressure—made him the perfect envoy, but even he wasn’t sure how this would play out.

The Sangue Luna had chosen to meet at one of their old pack houses, a sprawling, timeworn building that stood at the edge of their territory. Samuele arrived to find a few of their wolves waiting for him at the gate—tall, broad-shouldered, their eyes suspicious but not hostile. He gave them a nod, his expression calm and unreadable.

“I’m here for the meeting,” he said simply.

The wolves led him through the gate without a word, though he could feel their eyes on him, weighing and measuring. Samuele was used to it. He walked with easy confidence, but his senses were sharp, taking in every detail of the surroundings, every possible escape route, or weakness in their defenses.

The inside of the pack house was a stark contrast to its worn exterior. It was warm, well-lit by soft, amber lights, with the scent of fresh wood and leather filling the air. A group of Sangue Luna wolves had already gathered in a large room, where the meeting was. Their Alpha, Dante Rossi, stood at the center—a tall, imposing man with silver streaks in his dark hair, a sign of his many years as Alpha. His gaze met Samuele’s with an unreadable intensity.

“Monti,” Dante greeted, his voice deep and measured. “I appreciate you coming.”

Samuele gave a respectful nod. “It’s in both of our interests to avoid unnecessary conflict.”

As he took his seat, something unexpected happened. A scent—one unlike any he’d encountered before—hit him. It was warm, rich, and instantly intoxicating, pulling at his wolf in a way that was impossible to ignore. His heart skipped a beat, and for the first time in a long while, his calm facade wavered.