Moonbound: The Alpha's Chosen

"I told you to stay away from this story," Lucas seethed, cornering Emily in the antique shop's narrow aisle. His body caged her against a bookshelf, radiating heat and barely contained fury.

"You don't control me," Emily shot back, ignoring how her body responded to his proximity. After last night's dream, being this close to Lucas felt dangerously intimate.

Alexander appeared at the end of the aisle, posture deceptively relaxed. "Nephew. What a pleasant surprise."

Lucas didn't look away from Emily. "You shouldn't trust him. Whatever he's told you—"

"The truth, unlike what your family has done," Alexander interrupted smoothly. "Emily deserves to know her heritage."

"Heritage?" Lucas spat. "You've filled her head with half-truths to manipulate her."

Emily pushed against Lucas's chest, creating a sliver of space between them. "Stop talking about me like I'm not here. I'm a journalist, remember? I can distinguish fact from fiction."

Lucas finally stepped back, running a hand through his tousled hair. The gesture was so human, so at odds with what she now knew, that Emily felt a pang of sympathy.

"An interview," she said suddenly. "On the record. Both of you, at A Group headquarters. Let me hear both sides."

"Absolutely not," Lucas began.

"I accept," Alexander countered with a predatory smile. "Tomorrow, perhaps?"

Lucas's jaw clenched. "Fine. My office. Two o'clock."

As they left the shop, Emily felt caught between invisible forces—Lucas storming ahead, Alexander lingering behind, both men radiating possessive energy that made her skin prickle with awareness.

A Group's headquarters rose like a gleaming silver monolith against the sky. Emily checked her recording equipment one last time before approaching the security desk, heart pounding with anticipation.

"Ms. Grey for Mr. Stone," she announced.

The guard's eyes widened slightly. "Which one?"

"Both, actually."

He made a call, speaking too quietly for normal ears to hear—but Emily caught every word. "Sir, the female is here... Yes, she matches the description... Should I escort her myself?"

A minute later, a young man with wire-rimmed glasses approached.

"Emily? Emily Grey?" he asked, genuine surprise and pleasure in his voice.

Emily stared, momentarily confused before recognition dawned. "Jason? Jason Chen?"

"The one and only," he grinned, extending a hand which quickly turned into a brief, slightly awkward hug. "I can't believe it's you! What are you doing here?"

Emily studied her childhood neighbor with amazement. The gangly boy who'd lived next door throughout her childhood had grown into a lean young man, though he still wore the same style of black-rimmed glasses and maintained that slightly shy demeanor she remembered.

"I could ask you the same thing," she replied, genuinely pleased to see a familiar face. "Last I heard your family moved to Chicago when we left for college."

"We did, but I came back for grad school and ended up staying." Jason gestured toward the elevator. "I handle IT systems for A Group now. Lucas asked me to bring you up when he heard your name on the visitor log."

In the elevator, Jason studied her with undisguised curiosity. "So you really became a journalist, just like you always said you would. I remember all those neighborhood newspapers you used to make me help deliver."

Emily laughed at the memory. "You were the world's most reluctant paperboy. Always worried we'd get in trouble for reporting on Mrs. Henderson's suspicious gardening activities."

"Because she was just gardening, and you were convinced she was burying evidence!" Jason shook his head fondly. "Some things never change, I guess. Still chasing stories that might get you into trouble?"

Their easy reminiscence faded as the elevator opened directly into a plush waiting area. Through glass doors, Emily could see Lucas at his desk, intense concentration on his face as he reviewed documents. Sunlight streamed through floor-to-ceiling windows, gilding his profile.

Before Emily could respond, the elevator chimed again, and Alexander stepped out, immaculate in a three-piece suit. "Ms. Grey. Right on time."

Lucas emerged from his office, tension visible in every line of his body. "Let's get this over with."

Emily was escorted directly to Lucas Stone's corner office, where floor-to-ceiling windows dominated the city skyline. He stood behind his desk, all commanding presence in a perfectly tailored suit that accentuated his athletic build.

"Ms. Grey," he acknowledged, his voice deeper than she remembered from their confrontation at the antique shop. "Please, sit."

Emily activated her recorder, determined to maintain professional detachment despite the way his gaze seemed to linger on her face. "Your statement denied any connection between A Group and the recent attacks. Yet your security teams have restricted access to those areas, and witnesses report unusual activity in your research facilities."

"We increased security because people were being injured," Lucas replied, his eyes never leaving hers. "Basic corporate responsibility."

"Five attacks in three months, all near your properties," Emily pressed, leaning forward. "All with characteristics that experts can't explain. That's beyond coincidence."

Lucas's jaw tightened momentarily, a muscle flickering beneath his tanned skin. "Correlation isn't causation, Ms. Grey. A lesson they still teach in journalism school, I hope?" His tone carried a challenging edge that made Emily's cheeks flush with irritation.

"They also teach us to follow evidence," she shot back, "which is precisely what I'm doing."

He stood abruptly, circling the desk until he was perched on its edge, mere feet from her chair. The sudden proximity made Emily's heart quicken traitorously.

"The truth is," he said, voice lowered as if sharing a secret, "we're investigating these incidents ourselves. But I deny that A Group is responsible."

"That's not the same as denying a connection," she pointed out, annoyed by the slight breathlessness in her voice.

A hint of approval crossed his face. "You're sharp, Ms. Grey."

"Sharp enough to notice when someone's avoiding direct questions," Emily countered, shifting in her seat as Lucas leaned slightly closer.

"Have you considered why your editor is so fixated on this particular story?" he asked, the abrupt change of subject catching her off guard. "Why Catherine Howard personally assigned you to investigate A Group, despite your limited experience with corporate reporting?"

Emily faltered. "How did you know Catherine assigned me?"

"Information is currency." His eyes, impossibly dark in the office lighting, held hers captive. "Have you considered that you might be a pawn in someone else's game?"

"I'm nobody's pawn," Emily retorted, anger and something else—something alarming and electric—surging through her as he invaded her personal space.

"Everyone's a pawn until they see the whole board," Lucas said quietly, his breath close enough to stir a strand of hair that had fallen across her cheek. "My concern is that you're being positioned to spread misinformation about situations you don't fully understand."

"Then help me understand," Emily challenged, refusing to retreat despite the distracting awareness of his proximity.

Lucas studied her for a long beat, his expression unreadable. "These attacks are more complicated than either wild animals or corporate malfeasance. There are... elements at work beyond conventional explanation."

Her recorder suddenly sputtered and died.

"Technology often fails in this building," Lucas noted with a cryptic smile that made Emily's stomach flutter. "Something about the electromagnetic field."

She pocketed the device, suddenly conscious of being alone with him, unrecorded. "You're not what I expected," she admitted reluctantly.

"Neither are you." His gaze dropped briefly to her lips before returning to her eyes. "Most reporters would have backed down by now."

"I'm not most reporters." Emily stood, needing to regain some control over the situation and her inexplicable reactions to him.

"No," Lucas agreed, not backing away despite her now standing inches from him. "You're certainly not."

The air between them seemed to crackle with tension—professional, antagonistic, and something else entirely that Emily refused to name.

As she turned to leave, his fingers brushed her wrist, feather-light but sending a jolt through her system that had nothing to do with professional interest. Emily pulled away, alarmed by the intensity of her reaction.

Lucas's knowing smile suggested he'd noticed both her response and her attempt to hide it. The realization only deepened the color in her cheeks as she escaped to the elevator, her heart racing with a confusing mixture of irritation, intrigue, and an attraction she was nowhere near ready to acknowledge.