The moon hung heavy above Velmora, casting silver light across obsidian rooftops and mirrored windows. The Vale Tower stood taller than anything else in the city, a spire of power, wealth, and ruthless legacy — just like the man who ruled it.
Selene Noir stepped out of the black limousine, her stiletto heels tapping like clockwork against the polished marble of the circular driveway. Eyes turned. Phones lifted. Whispers ignited. No one recognized her. No one could. That was the point.
She adjusted her mask — a delicate black lace veil that hid just enough of her features to seem mysterious, dangerous, untouchable.
It had been eight years since Magdalene Rivers died.
Tonight, Selene Noir was born.
And she'd come to ruin a king.
A valet hurried to open the grand entrance. "Miss Noir, welcome to the Vale Foundation's annual Midnight Auction."
She didn't answer. She simply walked past him, her scent — night jasmine and something older, something wild — trailing behind. The man stammered in her wake, unable to look away.
Inside, the ballroom glittered with crystal chandeliers, champagne towers, and masks more expensive than most salaries. The richest elite of Velmora mingled beneath velvet drapes and fluted candlelight, their laughter sharp, predatory.
Selene walked through it all like a ghost with purpose.
But he wasn't among them yet.
Not yet.
She needed time. She needed to breathe in this empire — the kingdom that should have never risen — and prepare for what was coming.
Him.
Maddox Vale.
Alpha of House Vale. Billionaire. Beast. Murderer.
Her mate.
And the man who destroyed everything she loved.
She stepped toward the silent auction gallery, heels echoing off the floor, ignoring the glances, the murmurs. Her reflection stared back from a massive pane of black glass: flawless, poised, lips painted blood-red.
No trace of Magdalene remained.
Only Selene Noir.
Behind her, the atmosphere shifted.
The temperature dropped, subtly but unmistakably.
And the murmurs grew quieter. Warier.
She felt him before she saw him.
His presence entered first — a gravity that pulled all attention without demand. Then his voice, dark velvet and smoke, slipped between conversations like a warning growl.
"Who invited the storm?"
Selene turned.
And there he was.
Maddox Vale.
He wore a tailored black suit cut like sin, no tie, shirt slightly undone, wolf eyes sharp as cut steel beneath a black half-mask. Moonlight silvered the edges of his dark hair, and the air rippled around him — dominance cloaked in cool arrogance.
People parted instinctively as he passed.
Her breath caught for only a second. Then it was gone.
She tilted her head, lips curling into a subtle, unreadable smile.
"Alpha Vale," she said, voice low, sultry, unfamiliar to him. "How disappointing to find you still alive."
He stopped a few paces in front of her.
The tension between them was instant, electric — something primal flickering behind his eyes. He didn't recognize her. Not in this form. Not in this mask. But something in him felt her. She could see it.
He stared at her longer than politeness allowed.
"Do we know each other?" he asked finally.
She sipped her champagne without answering.
"Should we?" she replied, her voice laced with velvet cruelty.
He studied her, then smiled — slow, dangerous. "We don't forget storms like you."
She stepped past him, brushing his shoulder with her arm. "Careful, Alpha. Some storms sink kingdoms."
—
Across the ballroom, in a dim alcove, Maddox's Beta — Rhys Calder — watched everything unfold with narrowed eyes.
"She's not on any list," he muttered into his earpiece. "Selene Noir. That's not a real name."
"Dig deeper," Maddox's voice growled in reply. "She's hiding something. I want to know what."
And for the first time in a long time, Maddox Vale's control wavered.
—
Selene moved through the corridors of Vale Tower like a ghost from a forgotten war. Her heel clicked against marble, echoing in the gallery of portraits — Vale Alphas through the ages.
She stopped at one.
The most recent painting.
Maddox Vale, seated like a crowned executioner, power painted into every line.
She stared at it with a hatred so deep it nearly choked her.
He had killed her family.
He had stolen her birthright.
And he didn't even know.
Not yet.
She touched the cold frame.
Then her hand moved — smooth, deliberate — and slipped a flash drive into the back panel of a security hub tucked beneath the portrait's base.
Phase one.
Begin.
—
Downstairs, Maddox leaned over a data terminal in his private lounge, brows furrowed.
"You found anything?" he asked Rhys, his fingers drumming the marble bar.
"No identity trace. No government ID. No birth record. It's like she didn't exist until last year."
Maddox frowned. "She's not just some socialite with a sharp tongue and a tighter dress. She's watching everything. Mapping it."
Rhys nodded. "And she looked at you like she already knew how you'd bleed."
Maddox's jaw tightened.
"I want her watched."
—
Upstairs, Selene entered the penthouse level — a place only Maddox, his guards, and ghosts ever walked.
She had memorized every inch of this floor.
When she was younger.
When she belonged here.
Her fingers hovered near the carved wolf insignia burned into the elevator frame — a mark her father once wore on his crest.
Before Maddox slaughtered him.
Before he took the Rivers' land and power for himself, burned the treaty, and blamed her family for a war he started.
Magdalene Rivers died in that fire.
But Selene Noir would burn Maddox Vale down.
And tonight would be the first match struck.
—
Suddenly — footsteps.
Louder. Closer.
Not guards.
Him.
She turned sharply, but the hallway was narrow.
Too narrow.
She backed into the shadows just as Maddox rounded the corner, walking toward the secured door at the far end — the vault.
Her heart stopped.
He paused, fingers on the keypad.
Then stilled.
He sniffed the air.
Wolf sense.
Recognition — not in mind, but body.
He turned slowly, eyes narrowing toward the shadow she was cloaked in.
"Someone's here," he muttered.
She held her breath.
One second. Two.
He took a step forward.
She slid back, just out of sight.
Another step.
"Show yourself," he said, voice low. Commanding.
Her body trembled — not with fear, but rage. Hunger. The kind only vengeance could feed.
One more step and he'd see her.
Then—
Her earpiece buzzed, low and urgent.
"Abort. Guards incoming. Get out. Now."
Selene cursed under her breath and slipped down the secondary stairwell, just before the cameras reactivated.
Maddox turned the corner.
Empty.
Just a whiff of night jasmine.
He stared into the dark, something stirring in him he didn't understand — something ancient, familiar, dangerous.
"She's not just anyone," he muttered.
And for the first time in eight years…
He felt something real.
—
Down in the car, Selene ripped off her mask, her chest rising and falling as she stared at her own reflection in the window.
A ghost looked back.
A ghost with Maddox Vale's scent still on her skin.
And a heartbeat that still, after all these years, betrayed her.
Because no matter how deep her hatred ran, the curse of the mate bond ran deeper.
She still wanted him.
And that, more than anything, was the weapon she feared most.