"Take it easy," Felicia said quietly beside me, her hand steady on my shoulder like a grounding mark of pack support. "They came prepared. Don't let them drag you into their trap."
I exhaled slowly, forcing my instincts to settle before stepping forward into the conference room.
The moment I entered, I felt it—foreign pack pressure already occupying the space. Five individuals sat inside: two lawyers with sharp, calculating scents, two Savill representatives, and one man at the center whose dominance immediately marked him as their lead.
George.
His gaze locked onto me instantly, cold and assessing.
"So you're Anastasia Tillman," he said, voice laced with disdain. "The one who stole my designer's work?"
My instincts tightened, but I didn't step back. Instead, I met his stare directly, letting my own presence rise to meet his. "On what basis do you make that claim?"
