Page 20 of Growl Me, Maybe

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JACE

Jace was halfway down the west wing corridor when his nose caught it.

A scent like smoke laced with rot and charm—too slick, too cold to belong in Moonfang Keep. His body went still. Every muscle locked, instincts bristling beneath his skin like needles.

Ezra.

The scent trailed like a snake into the archive wing. Inside, the air hummed with magic, low and nervous. Jace’s pulse didn’t spike, he didn’t allow it—but his wolf surged, ears pinned, hackles rising.

He shouldn’t be here.

Jace stepped around the corner just in time to hearher laugh—soft, a little uncertain.

Lyra.

He moved faster then, silent and precise, bootfalls muffled by instinct. The door to the filing room was half-ajar. The light inside glowed golden, curling through her curls as she stood with a file in one hand and a tight, polite smile on her lips.

Across from her stood Ezra Wolfe, calm as sin, leaning against a shelf like he belonged there.

And Jace saw red.

He didn’t charge in. That would be foolish. Ezra lived to provoke. Jace wasn’t giving him the satisfaction.

But the moment Ezra’s eyes flicked over Lyra’s form, lingering with appreciation Jace didn’t bother hiding his fury about—he stepped inside.

“Ezra.”

Lyra jumped slightly, her head whipping toward the door. Ezra just smiled.

“Alpha Montgomery,” Ezra said, like it was a greeting at a garden party. “Was wondering when you’d pop in.”

Jace didn’t look at Lyra. Not yet. Not when his wolf was already pacing behind his ribs, growling low and constant.

“You have no business here,” Jace said evenly.

Ezra gestured toward the files. “Just dropping off some old council records. Council asked me to pass them along since I was in the area.”

His eyes glittered. “Didn’t realize your staff was so… welcoming.”

Lyra looked between them, confusion knitting her brows. “He said he was returning documents. I didn’t know he?—”

“You don’t need to explain,” Jace snapped, eyes still locked on Ezra.

Ezra smiled wider, pushing off the shelf and strolling past them both with the easy grace of a predator who didn’t fear being bitten. “Nice to meet you, Lyra,” he said, voice velvet-wrapped poison. “I look forward to chatting more soon.”

Then he was gone, and the silence he left behind was worse than his presence.

Lyra stepped forward, arms crossed. “Okay. First of all, I didn’t know who he was. Secondly, what wasthat?”

Jace kept his tone flat. “He shouldn’t be here.”

“You said that. Loudly. But he didn’t do anything.”

“He doesn’t belong here.”

“I didn’tinvitehim.”

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