I Could Read Everyone’s Mind—Then the Alpha King’s Wolf Started Calling Me Mate

Claire Morgan's first professional assessment of Adrian Veil took 11 seconds. The Alpha King was not arrogant. He was worse. He was honest. Claire stood behind a camera in a private media training studio on the 39th floor of Veil Industries while Adrian sat beneath the lights in a dark charcoal suit looking like a man

who had personally declared war on casual conversation. She glanced at the question card in her hand. Why should the public trust you? Adrian's cold gray eyes settled on the camera. They shouldn't. Claire lowered the card. Behind the one-way glass, someone made a choking sound. Adrian looked at her. You stopped. I'm reconsidering my

career. Because I answered the question? Because you answered it like a supervillain testifying before Congress. His expression did not change. Claire had watched hours of footage before coming here. That expression rarely changed. Adrian Veil was publicly known as the 35-year-old chief executive of Veil Industries, a privately held conglomerate involved in renewable energy, conservation, infrastructure,

hospitality, biomedical research, and enough other industries to make journalists suspicious whenever he said he had a free afternoon. He was tall enough to make most furniture look temporary. 6' 5 broad shoulders black hair cut short sharp features gray eyes an expensive suit that somehow looked less like fashion and more like protective equipment.

The public had recently given him another unofficial title, the Ice King of Hawthorne. They did not know how accidentally close they were. Adrian was not 35. He was 218. He was not merely a billionaire CEO. He was the alpha king of the 12 Eastern packs. And 6 weeks from now, he was supposed to