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The acrid scent of silver ammunition burns my nostrils as I watch Amelia stride onto the stage, her white Chanel suit gleaming under the harsh spotlights. From my position behind the heavy curtains, I can pick out at least twelve hunters scattered through the crowd, their weapons concealed beneath pressed suits and casual wear. My enhanced senses catch whiffs of gun oil and the metallic tang that could end us all.

My fingers fly across my laptop keyboard, corporate instincts merging with werewolf intuition as I work to infiltrate the venue's systems. Each passing second drives home what's at stake – not just Callum's pack, but every supernatural being living quietly among humans. The massive LED screens flanking the stage display Amelia's perfectly composed face, her ice-blue eyes gleaming with triumph as she approaches the podium.

"Fiona," I whisper into my earpiece, "status?"

"Security's in position," her voice crackles back. "But Olivia... Callum's here."

My heart stutters. I catch
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