Page 3 of Howl About That

Ten million. For land that's worth maybe two at most.

"Ten million from the gentleman," the auctioneer confirmed, his voice carrying new respect. "Do I hear eleven million?"

But no one else moved. The white-haired woman remained motionless, her earlier confidence replaced by something that looked almost like satisfaction. As if this outcome had been expected all along.

I don't have ten million. I don't have anything close to ten million.

"Going once."

Poppy's world tilted sideways. Without that land, developers would strangle the remaining Mintz territory. Sander would use her failure as proof of incompetence. The pride council would vote her out of the Alpha position within months, and everything her father had died protecting would be carved up and sold to the highest bidder.

"Going twice."

Neve's grip tightened on her hand, but they both knew there was nothing left to do. No miracle savings account, no emergency fund, no last-minute solution. Just the crushing weight of defeat and the knowledge that eleven years of sacrifice had led to this moment of absolute failure.

I'm going to lose everything. The lands, the pride, my entire identity. Sander will finally get what he's wanted and become the new Alpha, and I'll have proven every doubter right.

"Sold to the gentleman for ten million dollars."

The gavel's crack echoed like a gunshot. Poppy sat frozen as applause rippled through the ballroom, and as conversations resumed with the excitement of people who'd witnessed unexpected drama. Her chest felt hollow, carved out, as if someone had reached in and removed everything essential.

"Poppy." Neve's voice seemed to come from very far away. "We'll figure something out. We always do."

"No." The word scraped against her throat. "I don't think there's anything that will save this situation."

Movement caught her peripheral vision as a figure rose from a table near the back of the room. Tall, broad-shouldered, moving with the controlled grace of a predator who never doubted his place at the top of the food chain. The room stilled instinctively as he approached the auctioneer's podium to claim his winning ticket.

Then his scent hit her as he passed her table.

Cedar and spice and forest rain, but underneath it all something wild, something familiar. The scent wrapped around her like a warm embrace, igniting every nerve ending with recognition that bypassed rational thought.

My fated mate.

The knowledge slammed into her with the force of a tidal wave. This stranger, this wolf who'd just destroyed her life with casual wealth, carried the scent that would haunt her dreams and torment her waking hours.

Her lioness purred with satisfaction even as Poppy's human mind reeled with the impossibility of it all. How could fate be so cruel? To dangle her mate before her at the exact moment he'd stolen everything she'd fought to protect?

Does he know? Can he smell me too, or am I just another face in the crowd?

"Poppy?" Neve's voice carried sharp concern. "You look like you've been struck by lightning. What's wrong?"

"Everything." Poppy pushed back from the table on unsteady legs, her entire world spinning off its axis. "Everything is wrong."

Poppy fled toward the ballroom's exit, desperate for air that didn't carry the scent of her mate and her destructionintertwined. Behind her, she heard Neve's chair scrape against marble as her Beta rushed to follow, but Poppy couldn't stop moving.

Couldn't face the reality that everything had just changed.

TWO

KEIRO

As Keiro approached the auctioneer's podium, he felt a heavy weight pressing down on his shoulders from the decision that defied every principle he'd built his life around. He'd attended tonight's auction as a social obligation—shake hands, make appearances, and remind Manhattan's elite that Izell Financial remained a force to be reckoned with. The last thing he'd planned to do was to spend ten million dollars on land he didn't need.

What the hell did I just do?

His wolf stirred restlessly beneath his skin, still caught in the aftermath of recognition that had hit him like a freight train. Across the ballroom, that lioness shifter—his fated mate, though the knowledge still felt impossible—had looked at him with such devastation that his chest had physically ached in response.

The auctioneer handed him the winning ticket with the reverence reserved for eight-figure sales, but Keiro barely registered the congratulations or the curious stares from the other guests. His attention remained fixed on the empty chair where she'd been sitting, and the lingering trace of wildflowers and summer rain that somehow cut through the ballroom's expensive perfume and testosterone-laden posturing.