Cold air stung Mara's cheeks as she collapsed onto the rooftop gravel. Her vision blurred, ears ringing—but she felt everything. The growl vibrating through concrete. The clash of muscle and bone. Hot spray hitting her arm.
Blood.
She blinked.
Damian stood over the snarling black beast but he moved wrong. Too fast. Too fluid. Like liquid shadow.
His shirt hung in tatters. Three deep gashes crossed his back.
He didn't flinch.
Instead, he inhaled, deep, sharp and his eyes blazed gold.
Two more beasts emerged from the shadows. Circling.
The first, lunge.
Damian caught it mid-air. Twisted. The sound of breaking bones echoed.
The second beast circled toward Mara.
She scrambled backward. Her throat closed. No air.
The beast's yellow eyes locked on her. Saliva dripped from its fangs.
She did the only thing she could think of.
She hummed.
The sound left her lips, soft, wordless, instinctive.
The beast froze.
Its ears flattened. It whimpered. Then backed away, confused, frightened.
Damian's head snapped toward her. His eyes widened.
"You already know how to use it," he breathed.
Before she could ask what he meant, the third beast attacked him from behind.
Claws raked deep. Blood, black blood sprayed across white gravel.
Damian roared. Not human. Not even close.
He spun, grabbed the creature, and threw it over the edge of the building.
Silence.
Just his ragged breathing.
He turned to her slowly. Blood dripped from his hands, his back, his jaw.
But his eyes, molten gold, feral, were locked on her like she was the only thing anchoring him to humanity.
"Mara." His voice was scraped raw. "Are you hurt?"
She shook her head. Couldn't speak.
He crossed the distance between them in two strides. Dropped to his knees in front of her.
His hands hovered near her face shaking, bloodied but didn't touch.
"I need to know you're safe," he said. "Tell me you're safe."
"I'm fine." Her voice came out small. "But you're—you're bleeding. That's not… that's not normal blood."
He glanced at his hands. "No. It's not."
"What are you?"
Pain flashed across his face. "Something you should run from."
"Then why don't I want to?"
The question hung between them.
His gaze dropped to her mouth. Lingered.
She felt it, the pull. Gravity shifting. Her lips tingled. Her body leaned toward his without permission.
He made a sound, half groan, half growl.
"You feel it too," he murmured. "That heat. That pull. Your body knows me even if your mind fights it."
"I don't understand—"
"The bond." His knuckles brushed her jawline. Calloused. Warm. Electric. "When I smelled you in that elevator, my wolf bowed."
Her heart hammered. "Your… wolf?"
"Mate," he whispered. "You're my mate."
The word unlocked something. A memory—not hers. Silver light. Strong arms. A voice: Sleep, my moon. I'll guard your dreams.
Tears pricked her eyes. "This can't be real."
"It is." He leaned closer. His breath stirred her hair. "And I swear—I will never hurt you."
His thumb traced her bottom lip.
She shivered. Her body responded—heat flooding low, urgent, demanding.
His nostrils flared. He smelled it. Knew.
"I know you're scared," he said. "But right now, all I want is to taste you."
Her pulse spiked.
He leaned in—slowly, giving her time.
She didn't pull away.
His lips hovered a breath from hers.
Then—
BANG!
The rooftop door burst open.
Mara jolted. Damian growled—deep, furious—but positioned himself between her and the door.
Two men in black suits rushed in. Guards.
"Sir!" The lead guard's voice was tight. "They're here."
Damian didn't look away from Mara. "What?"
"The Council. They crossed the river. Ten minutes out."
Cold sliced through the heat.
"And they're not coming to talk," the guard added. "Seraphina is leading them. She knows."
Damian's jaw clenched. He stood, pulled Mara to her feet.
"Knows what?" Mara asked.
He didn't answer. Just took her hand and pulled her toward the door.
She resisted. "Tell me what's happening!"
He stopped. Turned. His eyes were desperate now.
"Every wolf in this city just felt your presence," he said. "When I touched you—when our bond sparked—it sent out a pulse. Like a beacon."
"A beacon for what?"
"For them. The Council. Rival Alphas. Anyone who wants to control the Moonborne."
She blinked. "The what?"
"You." His grip tightened on her hand. "You're not just human, Mara. You're Moonborne. A legend. A woman who can awaken dormant Alphas and reshape pack hierarchy."
Her head spun. "That's insane."
"I know how it sounds. But they're coming. And if they take you—" His voice cracked. "I won't survive losing you again."
Again.
There was that word. The one that made no sense.
"Have we met before?" she whispered.
Something broke in his expression.
"No," he said.
But she saw the lie in his eyes.
Before she could press, the guard interrupted: "Sir, we need to move. Now."
Damian pulled her into the stairwell. They descended fast—too fast. She stumbled. He caught her without breaking stride.
They reached the garage. A black SUV waited, engine running.
He opened the door. "Get in."
"Where are we going?"
"Somewhere they can't reach you."
"And if I say no?"
His eyes softened. "Then I'll still protect you. But I'm asking—please. Trust me. Just for tonight."
She looked at him. At the blood still dripping from wounds that should have killed him. At the way he stood between her and every shadow, every threat.
At the way his thumb stroked her knuckles like she was something precious.
She got in the car.
Relief flooded his face. He slid in beside her, keeping space between them.
The car pulled out.
Silence.
Then—a phone rang. His.
He glanced at the screen. His face went white.
"What is it?" Mara asked.
He didn't answer. Just held up the phone so she could see.
A video message. Playing automatically.
A woman on screen. Silver hair. Severe expression. Victorian collar beneath a modern suit.
"Hello, Damian," the woman said. Her voice was frost and old paper. "Still trying to resurrect the dead, I see."
Damian's hand trembled.
The woman continued: "Bring her to the Council chambers by midnight. Voluntarily. Or we come and take her. And you know what happened the last time you stood between me and a Moonborne."
The video cut to black.
Mara's blood ran cold. "Who was that?"
"Seraphina Rose," Damian said quietly. "Head of the Lunar Council. My former mentor."
"What does she want with me?"
He looked at her. Really looked. Like he was memorizing her face.
"The same thing my father wanted with my mother," he said. "To control you. Break you. Use your power to consolidate pack dominance."
Mara's breath caught. "Your mother?"
"The last Moonborne," he said. "She looked exactly like you."
The world tilted.
"Looked?"
"She burned to death thirty years ago." His voice broke. "In my arms. And I was the one who had to choose—save her by letting my father rape her into bonding, or let her burn free."
Tears streamed down his face now.
"What did you choose?" Mara whispered.
"I chose her freedom." He closed his eyes. "I watched her burn rather than force her into slavery."
Mara's hands shook.
Behind them—unseen—a shadow moved on a nearby rooftop.
A figure in Victorian dress. Silver hair gleaming.
Seraphina.
Watching.
Waiting.
The SUV turned a corner.
And on Mara's wrist—where Damian's hand had gripped her—a faint silver mark appeared.
Crescent-shaped.
Glowing softly.
Then fading.
But not gone.
Never gone.
The bond had already begun.