The reception area was cathedral-clean, gleaming like glass sanctified in silence. Lana's new employee badge still clung warm to her chest, her photo frozen in an expression somewhere between skepticism and dread. Her heels clicked across black marble as she approached the woman already waiting.
"Miss Carter," the woman said crisply. She wore a charcoal skirt suit, heels like knives, and a mouth painted corporate red. Her nameplate read: V. Kraven, Human Resources.
"Follow me."
No greeting. No smile. Just a tone that made Lana fall in step like a well-trained dog.
They passed through a glass corridor where the reflections multiplied: Lana, Kraven, Lana again, twitching slightly, breath fogging in the increasingly cold air. At some point, Lana realized she could see her breath. She rubbed her arms.
"Temperature regulation," Kraven said without looking back. "The labs require it."
They reached a white-on-white cube of an office. Kraven gestured without sitting. A stack of paper waited on the desk, thick as a medical textbook.
"Your onboarding packet. Read carefully."
Lana picked up the pen beside it. Solid, weighted. A pen meant to make you feel important. Her eyes skimmed the header:
NONDISCLOSURE AGREEMENT: LEVEL OMEGA
Then Section 12.1:
Nocturnal Activity and Related Injuries Clause.
She frowned. "This looks like a medical waiver."
Kraven tapped the desk. "Clause 7 covers ritual protocol. Subsection D covers scent-based tracking. And here—" she flipped a page—"is the waiver for bite-related injuries."
Lana stared at the line. 'In the event of blood contamination during ceremonial or professional contact...'
She reached to turn another page—and gasped.
A thin line of red bloomed on her thumb. The paper had cut her. Deep.
"Oh dear," Kraven said flatly. She slid a black tin across the desk. Inside: one bandage. Branded with the Noctis logo.
"Your documents," she added without blinking, "have teeth."
Lana pressed the bandage to her wound and continued reading. The further she read, the less real the words became:
'Participation in controlled transformation events.'
'Scent imprinting.'
'Alpha designation exceptions pending legal review.'
She looked up. "This is a joke, right? Legal cosplay?"
Kraven's lips stretched into something knife-thin. "Miss Carter. If you are not willing to sign, someone else will."
Lana thought of her empty fridge. Her mounting debt. The eviction notice. Her mother's face before the car accident.
She signed.
The ink shimmered on the paper like oil on water.
---
Her cubicle was a pristine, clinical square among seven others. Empty. Too empty. Each workstation was perfectly arranged, untouched. Nameplates read Carter, Maeda, Singh, Fox...
No photos. No mugs. No signs anyone had ever stayed long.
A paper cup appeared on her desk.
"You look like you could use this."
A young man hovered with a nervous smile. He held a tray with two coffees. His fingers shook.
"Jason. Intern. Which means coffee mule, mostly."
Lana took the cup. It was warm. Human.
"Where is everyone?"
Jason's smile faltered. He glanced left, then right. "Gone. Promoted. Reassigned. Whatever word they use now."
He tapped his nose. Twice. A nervous tic.
"Just don't stay late," he added. "Seriously."
She opened her mouth to press him, but he was already gone.
She sat. The login screen glowed with the Noctis logo—a stylized 'N' that, if she squinted, looked like fangs.
She typed in her credentials. The system chimed.
Then every screen in the bullpen flickered on at once.
WELCOME TO THE PACK, LANA CARTER.
Three heartbeats. Then everything reset.
Glitch, she told herself. Just flair. A creepy one.
She reached to adjust her chair. Her fingers grazed the underside of the desk. Grooves.
Not scratches. Claw marks.
---
At 4:57 PM, Kraven buzzed her to retrieve a report from the file room.
The hallway was too long. The file room was too quiet.
The door closed behind her. Clicked.
She found the cabinet. The folder.
Turned.
And Kieran Noire was there.
His tie gone. His cuffs rolled. His sleeves damp with something red and not dry.
"How are you finding your first day?" he asked. Voice velveted, dangerous.
Lana clutched the folder. "Corporate."
He stepped closer. Close enough to scent.
"You bled," he said. His eyes dropped to her thumb.
Before she could answer, he caught her wrist.
Hot. Too hot.
He peeled back the bandage slowly. Blood welled.
Kieran inhaled. His tongue flicked across the cut.
Rough.
Like a cat's.
Lana jerked.
He looked up, pupils narrow slits now.
"Do you bruise easily, Miss Carter?"
The door swung open.
Kraven. Stone-faced.
"Mr. Noire. Your five o'clock is waiting."
Kieran released her.
"Until tomorrow," he said.
He was gone.
On her desk: a black rose.
No vase. No note.
Except a card in curling script:
HE'LL RUIN YOU.
As she stared, her computer lit up. A file appeared unprompted:
PROJECT FULL MOON: PHASE ONE INITIATED
The fire alarm shrieked.
Beneath it—
Howling.
Coming from the executive floor.