CHAPTER 1
THE WOLF IN THE ALLEY
The city never really slept.
Even past midnight, neon lights still bled through the drizzle, painting the cracked pavements in pink and violet. Music pulsed from distant clubs, laughter rising and dying in the same breath. And through all that noise, a different rhythm moved — softer, darker. The rhythm of something hunting.
Cecilia pulled her jacket tighter as she hurried along the narrow backstreet, her boots splashing through shallow puddles. She wasn't supposed to be here. Her shift at the café had ended an hour ago, but the shortcut through these alleys shaved twenty minutes off her walk home. Twenty minutes she needed — the city buses stopped running early, and she hated the long, lonely walk.
But tonight the air felt different.
Heavy. Watching.
She tried to tell herself it was just exhaustion. The dull ache in her feet, the rain against her hood. Still, a strange tension prickled across her skin, like her body was hearing something her ears couldn't.
Then came the sound — low, guttural, close. Not quite human.
She froze.
Something crashed against metal deeper in the alley. A trash bin rolled, scraping the ground. And then she saw it — a shadow darting between two walls, quick, massive.
Cecilia took a step back, heart racing. Her phone was dead; she'd forgotten to charge it again. All she had was the faint orange glow of a flickering streetlamp behind her.
"Hey!" she called, voice trembling. "Who's there?"
No answer. Just rain — steady, merciless.
Then she heard a growl.
Not the bark of a stray dog. Something older. Wilder.
Her breath hitched. She took another step back, eyes darting left and right — and that's when she saw him.
A man — tall, dark-haired, broad-shouldered — standing at the far end of the alley. His clothes clung to him, soaked through. The streetlight caught his eyes, and for a second, Cecilia thought they reflected gold.
"Are you—" she started, but her words broke as something lunged out of the shadows behind him.
The man moved faster than her eyes could follow.
A blur of motion — a flash of claws, metal striking brick. Cecilia stumbled back, slamming into the cold wall behind her. She wanted to scream, but the sound caught in her throat.
The attacker hit the ground hard, snarling. It wasn't human — its shape bent wrong, its skin gray and rough. The man snarled back, the sound deep and furious, and in the next second he had the creature pinned.
Cecilia's world spun.
Blood hit the rainwater. The creature went limp. The man stood, chest rising and falling, his golden eyes flicking toward her.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
Then he said, voice low and rough,
"You shouldn't be here."
Cecilia stared. "I— I didn't mean— what was that?"
He wiped blood from his jaw with the back of his hand. "Something that hunts what it doesn't understand." His voice carried a strange accent, one she couldn't place.
"Are you—" she began again. "Are you hurt?"
He gave a humorless laugh. "You should be asking yourself that."
And then, before she could blink, he was gone — swallowed by the fog at the end of the alley.
Only the echo of his voice lingered, deep and unreadable.
And beneath that, Cecilia swore she heard something whisper her name.
CHAPTER 2
THE PULL OF SHADOWS
Cecilia ran.
She didn't remember choosing to — her legs just moved, slapping against the wet pavement as she fled the alley, breath ragged in the chill night air. The image of those glowing eyes burned in her mind, the inhuman snarl echoing behind her heartbeat.
When she finally reached the main street, she stopped beneath a streetlight, clutching the lamppost to steady herself. Cars rolled by, their lights slicing through the fog. Normal life, just a few blocks away. But the world behind her—the alley—felt like a different reality.
She looked down. A thin scratch marred her palm; she must've caught it on the rough brick wall. Her blood was bright against the rain.
Something that hunts what it doesn't understand.
His voice replayed in her mind, low and rough, as though the words carried heat.
Who was he?
By morning, Cecilia couldn't decide if it had been real. Maybe it was a trick of the night. Her mind often spun strange stories — ever since she was a child. Her grandmother had called it "the blood's memory." But her grandmother also believed in spirits that lived in the forest and wolves that could speak under the moon.
Still, as Cecilia walked to her café job, the city seemed sharper, almost listening.
"Cecilia!"
Her coworker, Mina, waved as she came in, a wide smile on her face. "You look like hell. You okay?"
"Didn't sleep," Cecilia said, tying her apron.
Mina frowned. "Nightmares again?"
Cecilia hesitated. "Something like that."
The bell above the door jingled.
Cecilia looked up — and the world tilted.
He was there.
Raphael.
Standing in line, dressed in a black coat, raindrops clinging to his hair like tiny shards of light. Even in the hum of conversation and the hiss of steaming milk, his presence shifted the air — heavier, electric.
Her chest tightened.
He shouldn't be here.
He met her gaze once, and something in her body reacted before her mind could — heat, fear, recognition.
He ordered quietly, eyes never leaving hers.
"Black coffee," he said to Mina, his voice smooth now, almost gentle.
When Cecilia finally found her voice, it came out too soft. "You followed me."
He smiled faintly. "You have a dangerous habit of wandering where you shouldn't. Someone has to make sure you survive it."
"I don't need a guardian."
"Everyone does," he said, stepping closer. The scent of rain and something darker clung to him. "Especially you."
Her throat went dry. "You killed that thing last night."
"It would have killed you," he said simply. "You're welcome."
"You make it sound normal," she whispered.
He tilted his head. "You think the world is what you see? You think monsters wait for fairy tales to exist?"
She shivered, not from cold.
Raphael leaned forward just enough that his breath brushed her ear. "Don't go near the east alleys again. Not at night. Promise me."
Her pulse raced. "Why?"
He straightened, his eyes briefly glinting gold again. "Because next time, I might not be the first one to find you."
Then he was gone, the doorbell chiming faintly behind him.
Cecilia stood still for a long time, her coffee forgotten.
The world outside her window seemed to hum with quiet menace.
And deep inside, something stirred — something that recognized him not as danger, but as destiny.
CHAPTER 3
THE CALL OF BLOOD
That night, the city was loud — the way only big cities get when the moon is full and too many hearts are restless.
Cecilia sat by her window, watching headlights slide across her wall. The cup of tea she'd made had long gone cold, untouched.
She couldn't stop thinking about him.
Raphael.
The name itself felt forbidden, like a word meant to summon trouble.
She replayed every second: the alley, the eyes, the scent of rain on his coat, the way his voice seemed to vibrate right beneath her skin.
It made no sense — but sense had never explained what ran in her family's blood.
When she was thirteen, her grandmother told her a story of "the First Howl." About a human woman and the wolf who loved her enough to defy the moon. The story ended with betrayal and fire, but her grandmother had whispered one last line before bed:
> "The blood remembers, child. It always does."
At the time, Cecilia thought it was folklore. Now she wasn't so sure.
Across the city, Raphael stood on the rooftop of an abandoned church.
Rain slicked his dark hair against his neck, his coat heavy with the scent of night and iron. Below him, the streets shimmered in puddles and neon.
He could feel her.
Her scent, even miles away, was carved into him — warmth, sweetness, and something ancient underneath.
He shouldn't have gone to her. He shouldn't want her.
But after the alley, after seeing her fear and fire, he couldn't stay away.
"She's one of them," said a voice behind him.
Raphael didn't turn. "She's nothing like them."
"Her blood says otherwise," the man replied, stepping closer. His eyes glowed amber in the dark. Another wolf — younger, sharper. "You're risking exposure, Alpha. You know what the Council will do if they find out—"
Raphael turned then, eyes like molten gold. "The Council doesn't rule me."
The young wolf hesitated, lowering his gaze. "You're playing a dangerous game."
Raphael's jaw tightened. "No. I'm protecting what's mine."
By midnight, Cecilia's dreams turned strange.
She stood in a forest, moonlight silvering her skin. The trees whispered in a language she almost understood. And somewhere close — too close — came the sound of a growl, deep and resonant.
A pair of golden eyes glowed in the dark.
"Who are you?" she whispered.
The wolf stepped forward, its fur black as night, its form massive and graceful. It stopped before her — and instead of fear, warmth flooded her chest.
Then it spoke, voice echoing both inside her mind and through the air:
> "You already know me, Cecilia."
She woke gasping.
Her sheets clung to her skin, her heart thundering. For a long moment, she didn't move, staring at the moonlight on her ceiling.
When she finally sat up, her palm stung.
She turned it over — and froze.
Where the scratch from the alley had been, a faint mark now glimmered beneath her skin. Not a wound. A sigil.
A symbol she didn't recognize, yet somehow knew.
It pulsed once, in rhythm with her heart.
Somewhere across the city, Raphael jerked upright, his chest tightening as his senses flared.
He'd felt it.
The bond had awakened.
And once the blood answered, there was no undoing it.
CHAPTER 4
THE MARK OF THE ALPHA
"Every bond comes with a price. Hers was me."
The morning after the dream, Cecilia's apartment felt wrong.
Too quiet.
Too alert.
She moved through it like someone trespassing in her own life. The kettle whistled, but she didn't hear it; her eyes were fixed on her hand, on the faint mark that shimmered when the sunlight caught it.
It wasn't a wound — it was alive. A soft pulse beneath her skin that answered the rhythm of her heart.
And every time she blinked, she saw those golden eyes.
Raphael.
Her phone buzzed. Mina.
> MINA: You okay, girl? You didn't show up for your shift.
Cecilia ignored it. Her mind couldn't settle enough for normal conversation. She touched the mark again. It felt like heat and static.
And something inside her whispered one truth she didn't want to admit — this mark wasn't just a coincidence.
It belonged to him.
Downtown — Edge of the City
Raphael watched the crowd from the edge of a rooftop, his coat whipping in the wind. Below, the city moved in chaos — lights, laughter, noise.
But none of it touched him.
He had felt her awakening through the bond, the moment her blood had accepted his presence.
It wasn't supposed to happen. He had tried to stop it.
Once the mark appeared, there was no turning back. It bound two souls — human and wolf — in a rhythm older than time. A heartbeat of destiny.
And destiny never came without pain.
"Still watching her?" a voice drawled behind him.
Raphael didn't turn. "I told you to stay out of my business, Kane."
Kane, his Beta, smirked and stepped closer. "You mean our business. The Council's getting nervous. They said the Hunters are back. You mark a human right in the middle of the city, and you think no one's going to notice?"
"She's not just a human," Raphael growled.
Kane raised an eyebrow. "Don't tell me you've fallen for one again. Didn't the last time teach you anything?"
Raphael's jaw tightened. "This is different."
Kane snorted. "It's always different. Until it isn't."
When Raphael turned, his eyes glowed — molten gold and fury. "I'll protect her, no matter what it takes. Even from you."
For a moment, Kane's smirk faltered. He'd seen Raphael's temper before — and what happened when someone tested his loyalty.
"Fine," Kane muttered. "But don't say I didn't warn you. The Hunters have killed for less."
He vanished into the shadows, leaving Raphael alone with the city wind.
Raphael clenched his fists.
If the Hunters were truly back, it meant one thing — someone was tracking her bloodline.
And if they reached Cecilia before he did, the mark wouldn't save her. It would kill her.
Cecilia's Apartment — Nightfall
The lights flickered again.
Then went out.
Cecilia froze in her living room, the sound of the rain growing louder outside. She stood still, her heart pounding.
The silence stretched.
Then — a scrape against the window.
She spun, breath shallow.
A shadow moved behind the glass.
Before she could scream, the window burst open — and a figure stepped inside, dark and graceful.
Raphael.
Her fear dissolved into anger. "What the hell—! You can't just—"
"You're not safe here."
"I don't care!" she snapped. "You can't just break into my—"
Then she saw his face.
The wildness in his eyes. The way his chest rose and fell, too fast. His hair was damp with rain, his jaw tight. And his scent — something primal, intoxicating — filled the room.
"You marked me," she whispered. "What did you do to me?"
He stepped closer, eyes fixed on the mark glowing faintly on her palm.
"I tried not to," he said, voice rough. "But your blood called mine. You were dying that night, Cecilia. That thing would have torn through your soul if I hadn't intervened."
"So you bonded me?" she snapped. "Without asking?"
"It was that or let you die."
She took a step back. "Then maybe you should've let me."
His jaw clenched. "Don't say that."
"I don't even know you!"
"You do."
The words hit her harder than she expected.
He moved closer, slow, deliberate, until the space between them felt like fire waiting to catch.
"You dream of me," he said softly. "You see me even when you close your eyes. That's not chance — it's the blood recognizing its mirror."
Cecilia's breath caught. "You sound insane."
"Then why does your heart beat faster when I get close?"
He took another step, and she didn't move. Couldn't.
Her hand burned where the mark lay hidden. The air felt heavy, charged with something neither of them could name but both could feel.
"Tell me what you want from me," she whispered.
Raphael's hand hovered near her cheek but didn't touch. "To keep you alive. To stop them before they find you."
"Who?"
"The Hunters."
The word felt like a shadow falling across her heart.
"They know what you are," he continued. "Or at least, what you carry. You think the nightmares are just dreams? You think your grandmother's stories were just old magic? You're the last of the Moonline, Cecilia — the bloodline that could destroy both wolves and men."
Her lips parted. "That's insane."
He met her gaze, gold burning deep. "Then why can you feel me right now? Why does your skin call my name even when your mind tells you to run?"
Silence.
Then — thunder rolled through the distance.
She didn't realize he'd moved until his hand finally brushed her face — not a caress, but a claiming. Gentle yet wild, his touch made her tremble.
He leaned close, his breath warm against her ear. "You're marked by the Alpha, Cecilia. Whether you like it or not, we're bound."
Her voice came out shaky. "I don't belong to anyone."
He smiled faintly — not mocking, but aching. "Then fight it. But remember… every bond fights back."
She didn't sleep that night.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the mark glowing brighter, pulsing with his heartbeat. Her body felt strange — warmer, restless. She heard things she shouldn't — whispers through the walls, the heartbeat of the rain, the faint echo of a wolf's growl carried by the wind.
By dawn, she was half delirious from exhaustion.
She left her apartment, determined to clear her head. But when she reached the café, the world tilted again.
The street was silent. Too silent.
Her fingers trembled as she pushed open the café door.
Inside — chaos. Tables overturned. Broken glass glittered on the floor. A smear of blood near the counter.
"Mina?" she whispered.
A low growl answered.
From the back room, a figure emerged — tall, cloaked, the air around him humming with violence.
He wasn't Raphael. His eyes were silver.
"Found you," the man hissed. "The marked one."
Before she could run, claws flashed.
Then — a roar that shook the walls.
Raphael crashed through the window in a storm of glass and fury. His transformation was blinding — one moment man, the next a shadow of muscle and fur, his eyes pure gold.
He hit the silver-eyed attacker hard, sending him flying into the counter.
"Get out!" Raphael barked, voice distorted by the shift.
But Cecilia couldn't move. The sight of him — half-beast, half-man — paralyzed her. His strength, his rage, his terrifying beauty.
The Hunter lunged again, blade flashing, but Raphael was faster. He caught the man by the throat, snarling, before slamming him against the wall.
"This city is under my protection," Raphael growled. "Touch her again and I'll end you."
The man coughed, blood on his lips. "You can't protect her from what she is."
Raphael's eyes flared brighter. "Watch me."
He crushed the blade in his hand like it was paper.
The Hunter disappeared into smoke — gone as quickly as he'd come.
Raphael turned back toward Cecilia. His chest heaved, his jaw tight.
She backed away. "What… what are you?"
He stepped closer, his human form returning, skin streaked with blood and glass. "The thing that keeps worse monsters away."
"I don't need—"
"Yes," he interrupted, his voice trembling with anger and something else — fear. "You do."
She swallowed hard. "You killed him."
"He would've killed you first."
Her knees gave way, and he caught her before she hit the ground. His hand against her back, warm and steady.
She wanted to hate him. To scream. But all she could feel was that dangerous, aching pull.
"I told you," he whispered, his voice rough as gravel. "You can run from the bond. But the bond never runs from you."
And this time, she didn't pull away.