Rosaline wrapped her arms around my neck and nuzzled gently against my cheek. "I know," I whispered, my fingers tracing along the nape of her neck, lingering there as if reluctant to let go. "You've always been special." Rosaline was strong—she always had been. And while I had this instinct to protect her, I knew now it was time to respect her choices, not just shield her from everything. We were close—so close that our noses lightly touched. I could see my reflection in her eyes, as she could in mine. She tilted her chin up slightly and pressed her lips against mine. Her warm breath tangled with mine, and desire stirred in me like a spark to dry leaves. My hands started to wander, slipping beneath the hem of her shirt. But just as my fingers brushed her soft skin, Rosaline froze and grabbed my hand. "No," she murmured, pressing her forehead to mine. "Huh?" I blinked at her, puzzled. "You're still injured," she said firmly, her voice leaving no room for argument. Her concern touched me, but the rod hardened beneath me, making it difficult to stop. I pulled her tighter into my arms and promised, "I'll be careful." "Still no," she shot back, swift and decisive. She rose, pressing a finger to my lips. "Consider this your punishment. Be good." With a playful hum, she walked away, leaving me standing there, heat pulsing through my body, alone and frustrated. Oh well! Looks like another night with a cold shower. Rosaline's POV: "That kind of backing?" I echoed, brows lifting as I took the file Phoebe handed over. Inside were detailed profiles of the werewolves we'd apprehended earlier. I'd assumed they were part of some small-time crime ring. I hadn't expected the web of connections to go so deep. "Why does this guy look familiar?" I murmured, tapping a photo and narrowing my eyes. I couldn't place him exactly—he just felt recognizable. "That's Melvin Prescott," Caden said flatly, casting a quick glance at the image. "A long-wanted mob leader." The name made my eyebrows twitch. Of course—I remembered it from the news. "We just took down some of his men. You think he'll come after us?" I turned toward Caden, trying to shake the uneasy feeling gnawing at me. My luck lately has been something else. The werewolf gang led by Melvin was a cancer on the Werewolf Continent. Rumor had it he was once the Alpha of a powerful pack, but after inciting chaos and bloodshed within his own ranks, his people turned on him. Overthrown and stripped of his title, he was cast out as a rogue. But instead of disappearing, Melvin founded a criminal syndicate that spread like wildfire through the continent's underworld, leaving lawlessness in its wake. Honestly, with the way things had been going, maybe I should go buy a lottery ticket. Who knows? I might just win. "Unless he wants to get caught immediately, he'll stay low," Caden said coolly. He didn't seem interested in dealing with rogues or underworld drama. Instead, he ordered the files to be sent to the local werewolf precinct. I leaned my cheek against my hand and gave Melvin's photo one last glance before letting the matter drop. Just then, my phone buzzed. I glanced down—and drew my brows together. Sighing, I dialed a number and asked, "What's going on with the press?" "I thought we'd gotten everything under control," Naomi's agent fumed on the other end. "Turns out that entertainment reporter had more dirt. Someone must've nudged him. Otherwise, he wouldn't have posted that tweet." "Find out who he's been talking to. Don't bother with PR just yet. How's the TV shoot going?" "Running smoothly." "Good. Leave the press to me." I ended the call and smirked at my screen. Some people clearly needed reminding of their place. "Something from Starplay?" Caden asked, pushing a fresh cup of coffee across the table toward me. "Yeah. It's that mess with Naomi and Jasper. The company had already buried it, but someone clearly didn't get the memo." I turned my phone so he could see the messages I'd received. He frowned as he scanned the screen.A number I didn't recognize had sent a message, hinting that they had more photos of Naomi and Jasper—and wanted Starplay to pay big to keep them quiet. Classic showbiz blackmail. I propped my chin up and started typing, quickly tracking down the reporter's account. His latest post promised a "hard-hitting exclusive." The replies were already flooded with Naomi's name. At this point, I sighed helplessly. What were these people even thinking? Sure, Naomi and Jasper had explained it away as part of the show's plot, but let's be honest—no one really bought that. Especially not after Naomi had just gone public with her relationship. Rubbing my temples, I realized this situation was going to be tricky.