Chapter 87: A Spy

Chapter 87: Chapter 87: A Spy

Alexander stared down at her. For several seconds, absolute silence descended upon the room once more.

An expression crossed his face that Iris had never seen before—a strange, almost incredulous mix of surprise and sheer disbelief. For three thousand years, warlords had bowed their heads before him. Alpha lords had bared their throats in submission at his mere presence. Entire armies had scattered when his true form was revealed.

And here was a twenty-year-old human college student, standing in a cramped, brightly lit apartment kitchen, giving him ultimatums.

And even worse... he was actually contemplating agreeing to it.

A low, deep sound rumbled in his chest, and before Iris could react, a short, genuine chuckle escaped his lips.

Iris frowned, her anger momentarily faltering. "What is so funny?"

He shook his head, the dark, oppressive aura around him lifting just enough to expose a faint, wry curve at the corner of his mouth. "Nothing."

"Then why are you laughing at me?"

"Because I have walked this earth for three millennia, Iris," Alexander said, his blue eyes softening with a rare, genuine trace of dark amusement. "I have seen kings reconsider their decrees after a single glance from me. I have watched hardened Alpha commanders drop to their knees in terror when I entered their halls."

He stepped closer, looking down at her with a mix of awe and amusement. "And yet, here you stand, refusing to yield an inch, bargaining with me over houseguests."

Iris lifted her chin high. "Because I’m not one of your subservient pack members. I’m a person."

Behind them, Oliver let out a very sudden, sharp cough into his fist. Alexander cast a brief, warning glance over his shoulder, and Oliver immediately straightened his suit jacket, returning his face to complete neutrality.

The faint smile faded from Alexander’s lips, replaced once again by his calm, resolute demeanor. "Very well. Your companion will come."

Zoey’s eyes widened to the size of saucers. "Wait... seriously?"

Alexander turned his cold gaze onto her, the amusement instantly vanishing. "Do not give me reason to regret this concession."

Zoey nodded frantically, taking a quick step back. "Squeaky clean record, zero trouble, I promise."

"Then we depart now," Alexander said, turning smoothly toward the front door.

"Wait!" Iris called out.

He stopped, glancing back over his shoulder with an arched eyebrow. "Is there another demand?"

"We need ten minutes to pack clothes," Iris said, gesturing vaguely toward her bedroom.

"That is unnecessary," Alexander replied effortlessly. "A full wardrobe has already been procured and placed in your quarters at the estate."

Iris stopped dead in her tracks, staring at him. "You... you already bought me clothes?"

"Yes."

"When? And why would you do that before I even agreed to talk to you?"

Alexander’s expression remained perfectly smooth, entirely unbothered by the implication. "The moment I confirmed your identity as my mate, I instructed my staff to assemble everything you could possibly require. It was simply a matter of preparation. I knew you would eventually reside at the estate."

Iris’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. She slowly turned her head to look at Zoey. Zoey stared back at her, her eyebrows raised so high they were nearly hidden by her bangs.

Zoey leaned sideways, whispering out of the corner of her mouth, "Okay... that is either insanely romantic and thoughtful, or deeply, terrifyingly stalkerish."

Alexander’s eyes shifted deliberately toward Zoey.

Zoey instantly cleared her throat, raising her voice. "And I am choosing to believe it is thoughtful! Very efficient!"

Iris stood frozen, still trying to process the sheer absurdity of the situation. Before she could voice another objection, Zoey suddenly snapped her fingers and sprinted toward her own bedroom.

"Hold on! Thirty seconds!"

Iris watched in utter bewilderment as Zoey reappeared moments later, clutching a small, heavily stuffed canvas backpack to her chest.

Iris stared at the bag. "Zoey... we are fleeing our home because supernatural assassins might be on their way here."

"Exactly," Zoey said defensively, adjusting the strap over her shoulder with supreme confidence. "Which is why I grabbed my laptop, my iPad, three different chargers, and my high-capacity power bank."

"Your laptop?" Iris repeated, exasperated. "That’s your priority?"

"Do you know how much unbacked-up research is on this drive? I have two research papers due on Tuesday, Iris! If I survive an ancient werewolf feud only to fail European History because I didn’t back up my files, I will literally die of embarrassment. And If I’m getting murdered by werewolves, my final grade isn’t tanking with me."

Iris squeezed the bridge of her nose, letting out a long, exhausted sigh. "You are unbelievable."

"I have survival priorities," Zoey insisted.

From the doorway, Oliver offered a faint, approving nod. "A pragmatic approach. I respect it."

Zoey pointed an index finger at him. "Thank you. See? The bodyguard COO gets it."

Alexander let out a slow, heavy breath, exhaling through his nose as he opened the apartment door. "If the comedy hour is finished... Let’s move."

They stepped out into the night air, the cool autumn breeze instantly cutting through Iris’s thin sweater. The street was quiet, illuminated only by the pale amber glow of the scattered streetlights.

Waiting near the curb, idling silently, was a massive, custom-built black SUV. Its dark, obsidian paint was polished to a mirror finish, reflecting the streetlamps, its tinted windows completely opaque. It looked less like a vehicle and more like a rolling fortress.

Zoey stopped dead beside Iris on the pavement, her eyes wide as she took in the vehicle. "I mean... I knew the guy had money," she whispered under her breath, "but now I just feel financially embarrassed to exist."

Iris glanced sideways at her roommate, a tired smirk playing on her lips. "Zoey... you do realize that whispering is completely useless around them, right? They can hear a fly land three blocks away."

"Oh." Zoey’s eyes widened in sudden horror as the realization hit her again. She slapped a hand over her mouth. "Right. Supernatural hearing. Forgot."

Iris sighed, rubbing her arms against the chill. "Honestly, it hasn’t settled in for me either."

A quiet, deep chuckle sounded from the passenger side of the SUV. Oliver was standing by the open door, leaning over the roof with a small, amused smile on his face. He had clearly enjoyed every word of their hushed conversation.

Oliver held the front passenger door open, gesturing politely. "Miss Brooks. After you."

Zoey offered a weak, sheepish smile, muttered a quick "Thanks," and scrambled into the front seat.

Alexander walked around to the rear door on the driver’s side, stopping beside it. He turned his head, his dark gaze locking onto Iris. He didn’t speak, but the invitation was absolute.

Iris took a slow breath, stepping off the curb and walking toward him. Alexander reached out and pulled the heavy rear door open himself, stepping back to give her room. Iris climbed into the plush, leather-scented interior, sliding across the seat.

Alexander reached for the door handle to close it behind her—and then he suddenly froze.

The shift was instantaneous. The relaxed, commanding posture evaporated, replaced by a terrifying, absolute rigidity. His head snapped upward, his chin lifting as his nostrils flared slightly, catching the night air. His blue eyes locked onto the far end of the quiet street.

Iris felt a sudden, ice-cold chill sweep through the interior of the car. "Alexander?"

He didn’t answer. He didn’t even blink.

Oliver instantly straightened on the other side of the vehicle, his hand moving with trained precision beneath his jacket. "Sir? What is it?"

Alexander’s eyes remained fixed on the darkness beneath a sprawling oak tree fifty yards down the road.

Parked deep in the shadows, completely unlit, was a battered black sedan. Its engine was running—a low, barely audible hum that a human ear would have mistaken for a distant AC unit. Its windows were dark, reflecting no light from the streetlamps.

Alexander stepped away from the door, taking two slow, deliberate paces toward the middle of the street.

His jaw set into a line of pure, predatory hatred. And then, right before Iris’s horrified eyes, the blue in his eyes dissolved. A vibrant, terrifying crimson flooded his irises, glowing like burning embers in the darkness of the night.

A low, guttural growl vibrated out of his chest—a sound so deep and resonant that the glass in the SUV’s windows vibrated. Inside the car, the fine hairs on Iris’s arms stood bolt upright, a primitive instinct screaming at her to hide.

Across the street, the black sedan reacted instantly to the threat.

The driver slammed on the accelerator. Tires screeched violently against the asphalt, leaving dark rubber burn marks on the road as the sedan lurched forward, blowing through the stop sign at the end of the block and vanishing into the darkness of the main avenue.

Alexander didn’t give chase. He stood in the center of the street, tall and imposing, his crimson eyes tracking the vanishing taillights until the sound of the engine completely faded into the ambient noise of the city.

Someone had been watching the apartment. Someone had been waiting in the dark, taking notes, counting heads. And whoever had been sitting in that car now knew precisely who Alexander Blackthorne had come to collect.

The crimson in his eyes slowly receded, replaced once more by the cold, blue calm.

Alexander turned back toward the SUV, his jaw clenched tightly. He stepped inside the rear compartment, settling into the leather seat beside Iris, and pulled the heavy door shut. The seal closed with a dull, atmospheric thud, cutting off the sounds of the outside world entirely.

"Drive," Alexander said quietly.

Oliver engaged the transmission. The engine roared to life with a deep, muffled power, and the black SUV pulled away from the curb, carrying them swiftly away from the apartment and into the dark, winding roads toward the Blackthorne Estate.𝘧𝓇ℯℴ𝓂