New Consultant

~MATILDA~

Next morning, the TV screen blared inside my living room, showing yellow tape flapping around the North Sydney crime scene that we watched yesterday.

The reporter's voice droned about animal attacks, but my instincts screamed otherwise. As an investigative journalist, I could smell a lie from miles away. These murders were too calculated, too savage for any ordinary beast.

And it was more than just a random killing situation.

My fingers tightened around my morning coffee mug, the ceramic warm against my palms, but my thoughts drifted to all the events that happened over the weekend.

Those amber eyes, the stranger's blood staining my hands, his wild scent lingering in my apartment like a ghost. I shook my head, pushing him away. Focus, Matilda.

Ruby, who had spent the night with me, snapped off the TV, her face tight with frustration.

"Three couples dead in a week, Tilly. The police keep pushing the wildlife excuse, but this feels wrong. You feel it too, don't you?"

I nodded, my mind still tangled with the stranger. "There's a pattern and we need to dig deeper before the morning meeting. Let's get to the office early."

Ruby's eyes narrowed, skeptical. "Fine, but you're dodging my questions since last night. That guy from yesterday, I'm not dropping it totally and you should know that."

"Later," I muttered, grabbing my bag. I didn't need her probing about a man whose name I didn't even know.

The drive to SCN headquarters was silent, the city waking under a gray Monday sky. We swiped our badges through the lobby, the newsroom's hum hitting me like a familiar pulse.

But today, something felt off.

Whispers spread among the staff, heads turning as we passed. "New consultant," I overheard. "Big changes."

Ruby frowned. "What's the buzz? Did we miss a memo?"

Before I could respond, Director Quinn's voice cut through, "Matilda! Ruby! In my office, now!"

His tone was sharp, leaving no room for debate. We hurried to his glass-walled office, where he stood behind a cluttered desk, papers scattered like a storm had passed.

His salt-and-pepper hair framed a stern face. "Sit," he ordered, not glancing up. We sank into the chairs, exchanging wary looks.

"You two are on the North Sydney murder story, right?" he said, eyes flicking to me.

"Yes, sir," I replied. "We're seeing patterns, locations, victim profiles. It's not random animals."

He waved a hand, cutting me off. "Good, keep digging. But things are changing here. SCN is going global, and we've hired a Strategic Media Growth Consultant to oversee it."

Ruby and I exchanged uneasy gazes before turning back to him.

"He'll work closely with your team and every team in this organization. Don't mess this up, Matilda. Your work's been… distracted lately."

My cheeks burned. Was he hinting at Tyson's breakup? Or something else? "I'm focused, sir," I said, voice tight.

He grunted, unimpressed. "Morning briefing in ten, be there."

We left his office, the newsroom buzzing louder now. Colleagues whispered about the new consultant.

I spotted Tyson across the room, his arm around Zara Quinn, the director's daughter. Her smug glance hit me hard, her nails tapping possessively on Tyson's chest. My ex had moved on fast.

Ruby nudged me. "Ignore them Tilly and focus on the murders."

I nodded, sitting at my desk and pulling up crime scene photos on my laptop. The images were brutal, torn flesh, blood-soaked ground.

The wounds nagged at me, like a puzzle piece out of place. Familiar footsteps approached, and I didn't need to look up to know who it was.

"I guess we need to talk for clarity's sake," Tyson said, his voice smooth but edged with arrogance.

I lifted my head, meeting his gaze, anger flaring inside me. I forced myself to stay calm, refusing to give him the satisfaction.

"Clarity's for those who care, Tyson. I don't."

He looked shocked, but quickly masked it with a firm stare. "Since you're acting like you don't care, I'll say it. Zara and I are dating now. Don't cause trouble."

My eyes turned ice-cold.

"Tyson, you overestimate your importance. I don't care who you're with or what you do. Just keep your disgusting self out of my space."

He bristled, snapping back. "I know you're hurt by what you saw. Keep hurting, even if you act tough."

I held his gaze.

"The best thing that's happened to me is being free of a loser like you." My voice was low and dangerous, making him raised a brow in shock.

I continued, "I'm grateful someone took you off my hands. Tyson, you're bad business and It won't take long for the next person to see it."

My words struck a nerve, his face twisting. Before he could respond, Ruby immediately stepped between us, her voice deadly: "Tyson, I trust you're here to work. Go earn your paycheck."

Tyson's eyes flashed with anger, but he turned and walked away, defeated. Ruby and I exchanged a silent glance, understanding passing between us. She headed to her desk without a word.

The intercom buzzed, breaking my thoughts. "All staff to the conference room."

We filed in, the room crackling with tension. Quinn stood at the head, flanked by executives.

"We're entering a new era for SCN," he began. "Let me introduce our new Strategic Media Growth Consultant."

A tall figure stepped forward, his suit sharp and posture radiating power. Then my breath caught.

Those amber eyes, piercing, unmistakable locked onto mine. The stranger from over the weekend... the man I'd bandaged, stood there like he owned the room.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Quinn said, "meet Blake McAllister."

Ruby's gasp mirrored my shock. My heart pounded, questions exploding. Who was he? Why was he here? His gaze felt like it could unravel me.

The door swung open again, and a stunning woman entered, elegant, poised, her black dress hugging her curves.

"My apologies for being late," she said, her voice smooth, eyes scanning the room before settling on Blake with a too-intimate smile.

Quinn nodded. "Everyone, this is Sofia Hartman, our new prime-time investigative host."

My stomach twisted. Blake's eyes flicked to her, then back to me--his expression so cold and terrifying.

Ruby's hand gripped my arm under the table, her whisper sharp, "Tilly, what the hell is going on?"