Page 6 of Shadowed Bond

I’m still considering leaving just to be difficult when light footsteps approach from the left. I don’t bother looking at first, assuming it’s another student passing by, but then the scent reaches me.

Fresh rain, sea breeze and something faintly sweet beneath it, polished and expensive, like someone bottled arrogance and added flowers.

My eyes snap up, recognising the scent before I even see her.

Charlotte Arden walks towards the briefing room like she has been summoned to a social event rather than whatever disaster Leo is dragging me into. Her blonde hair falls in styled waves over her shoulders, glossy and ridiculous as always, and her grey eyes flick over me once before she takes a seat in a chair opposite where I am standing. Crossing one leg over the other, she looks down at her phone, ignoring me entirely.

For a moment, neither of us says anything. Then I decide I don’t have the patience for this shit. Like, the fuck is she doing here, anyway?

“Why are you here, Arden?”

She doesn’t look up. “Good morning to you, too, Westwood.”

“What are you doing here?” I push again.

Now she looks up, raising an eyebrow. It still doesn’t stand a chance against the height of her hair.

“Do you always interrogate people for sitting?”

“Only when they sit near me.”

“How territorial,” she replies, sounding bored or exhausted, maybe both.

“I’m an alpha. It comes with the job.”

“And here I assumed it was just a personality defect.”

My eyes narrow, but she simply returns her attention to her phone.

The water in the glass dispenser beside the door ripples. She pauses, and I feel the push back.

Barely. Not enough for most people to notice, but obvious to me.

My power shifts beneath my skin, irritated by the quiet brush of hers. Water answering water. Not strong enough to be a threat, but present enough to get under my skin and remind me she isn’t weak.

Fucking perfect.

“Why are you here, Arden?” I ask again. “I just want to know if Leo called you, too. I thought it was just me.”

Charlotte sighs, as if I’m the inconvenience. “Mind your own business,” she says.

“Arden.”

She finally lowers her phone, her grey eyes meeting mine properly this time. “Westwood.”

“You always this difficult?”

“No,” she says smoothly. “Sometimes, I’m worse.”

I believe that.

Before I can reply, I hear quiet, measured footsteps. Leo’s scent reaches me, and I turn as he comes into view, dressed in black, expression cold, a cigarette in his hand.

His gaze moves from me to Charlotte, then back again.

“Both of you are here. Good. Let’s step inside.” He leads the way into the large briefing room.

I push off the wall. “Both?”