Chapter 3 — The Catalyst

Vivienne "Vivi" Laurent

The Gilded Wolf Lounge thrummed with power and indulgence—a low murmur of conversation, the clink of crystal glasses, and bursts of laughter that rose and fell like a finely tuned symphony. The dark wood paneling, plush leather seating, and muted gold lighting spoke of exclusivity, a space where deals were whispered and alliances forged. Vivi swept in like a storm, her crimson suit a deliberate stroke of defiance against the sea of muted tones. The sharp citrus of her perfume mingled with the scent of aged whiskey and faint cigar smoke, creating an aura that demanded attention. Heads turned, whispers followed, and she let their gazes fuel her. Control was her domain, and tonight, she wielded it with precision.

The event was critical—a networking gala designed to solidify investor confidence ahead of the "Sentience" AI launch. The city’s elite had gathered: tech moguls, venture capitalists, and media power players, each vying for a piece of the future she was building. Vivi’s gray eyes flicked over the room, cataloging alliances and rivalries like pieces on a chessboard. But beneath the veneer of confidence, something was wrong.

The usual hum of conversation felt sharper, each word carving into her mind. The clinking glasses sounded like shattering crystal, the golden light overhead piercing her skull with unrelenting intensity. Her pulse quickened, and a metallic taste crept onto her tongue—bitter, unnatural. She swallowed hard, brushing it off as stress. The stakes tonight were enormous. She couldn’t afford to falter.

“Vivi.” Naomi’s voice cut through the chaos, calm and efficient as always. She appeared at her side, tablet in hand, her presence grounding. “The Sentience pitch is set for the final toast. Investors from Larkspur Capital just arrived, and they’re asking for details on the cybersecurity framework. I suggest—”

“I’ll handle it,” Vivi interrupted, her tone clipped. Naomi hesitated, her almond-shaped eyes narrowing behind her glasses.

“Are you feeling all right?” Naomi’s voice softened, the professional tone giving way to genuine concern.

Vivi exhaled through her nose, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’m fine,” she said, though the words felt like a lie even as they left her lips. Regret flickered when Naomi’s lips pressed into a tight line, but Vivi couldn’t afford to show weakness—not here, not now. She softened her tone slightly, a concession. “Focus on keeping Damian Cross occupied. His sudden interest in philanthropy feels entirely too calculated.”

Naomi’s gaze lingered for a beat before she nodded, her movements precise as she slipped back into the crowd. Vivi’s heart raced, each beat a hammer against her ribs. The lounge felt stifling, the mingling voices pressing in on her as if the walls themselves were closing. She reached for a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, the stem cool against her fingers. The bubbles fizzed unpleasantly against her heightened senses, but she took a sip anyway, needing the distraction.

“Vivienne Laurent.” The voice slid up her spine, smooth and predatory. Damian Cross. She turned, her expression carefully neutral as she faced him. He stood too close, his ice-blue eyes gleaming with amusement that didn’t reach his smile. The faint, sharp scent of his cologne stung her nostrils.

“Damian,” she said, her voice as sharp as the cut of her suit. “Enjoying yourself?”

“Immensely,” he replied, his tone casual but laced with something darker. “You’ve curated quite the crowd tonight. Though I have to wonder—do they know just how much you’re risking with Sentience? Or are we all just indulging in the illusion?”

Her jaw tightened, the metallic taste intensifying on her tongue. “If you have concerns, Damian, I suggest you raise them at the next analyst briefing. Or is undermining competitors your only viable strategy these days?”

He chuckled, low and mocking. “Touchy, aren’t we? But don’t worry, Vivienne. You always find a way to keep it together. I’m sure this time will be no different.” His gaze lingered, too knowing, before he turned and walked away. The scent of his cologne hung in the air, sharp and cloying.

Vivi exhaled, her fingers tightening around the champagne flute. The world tilted for a fraction of a second, her vision blurring. She blinked hard, willing the dizziness away. She couldn’t lose control—not in front of him, not here.

The hours dragged on, the sensations worsening. Each sound felt magnified, the words around her slicing through her composure. The golden glow of the lounge lights was blinding, the heat beneath her skin threatening to boil over. By the time she climbed the stairs to the rooftop garden, her breath was shallow, her skin clammy. The cool night air hit her like a balm, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the chaos.

She gripped the wrought-iron railing, her knuckles white. The skyline stretched before her, glittering with ambition and artifice. Normally, the view centered her, a reminder of what she’d built. Tonight, it felt distant, almost alien. The city lights blurred, and for a moment, all she could see was the jagged silhouette of a mountain. The sharp scent of pine filled her senses, so vivid it was almost real.

Her breath hitched. No. Not now.

The metallic taste morphed into something sharper, like blood. Her hands trembled, nails biting into her palms. A low growl rumbled in her ears, guttural and primal. She whipped around, expecting someone—anyone—but the garden was empty save for the rustling of leaves.

A flicker of movement caught her eye. Her reflection in the glass doors. She froze. For a heartbeat, the face staring back wasn’t her own. Gray eyes burned with an unnatural light, her angular features sharper, more feral. She stumbled back, her heart pounding. The image flickered and was gone, leaving only her pale, sweat-slicked face.

A memory surged forward, jagged and unbidden. The snap of a branch. The cold bite of snow. A shadow, too large, too fast. Pain, searing and all-consuming. Her own scream, swallowed by the void.

“No,” she whispered, pressing the heels of her hands to her temples. The memory clawed at her, relentless. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real.

A howl split the air, distant but unmistakable. Her head snapped up, a shiver running down her spine. The moon hung heavy and full above the city, its silver light casting everything in stark relief. Her heartbeat synced with it, the rhythm primal and unrelenting.

The growl came again, this time from within her. A deep, resonant vibration that shook her to her core. She fell to her knees, clutching the grass. Heat surged through her veins, her vision darkening at the edges.

“Vivi?” The voice cut through the chaos, distant yet familiar. Strong hands gripped her shoulders, steadying her. She blinked, her vision swimming, and caught a glimpse of dark green eyes and a calm, rugged face.

Caleb Hart.

She tried to speak, but the words caught in her throat as another wave of heat and pain rolled through her. He knelt beside her, his presence grounding, his voice low and soothing.

“Breathe,” he said, his tone steady, almost gentle. “You’re not alone. Just breathe.”

For the first time in years, Vivi felt her carefully constructed armor crack. Vulnerability, raw and terrifying, surged forward. And for once, she didn’t push it away.