Lyra's POV
The elevator doors of the Storm Tower were steel. Cold. Mirrored. I stared at my reflection, assessing the disaster staring back.
Gray sweatpants, pilled at the knees. A t-shirt stiff with an old wine stain. Hair thrown up in a bun that was more "nest" than "style." In my hand, a plastic grocery bag crinkled. Instant noodles. Cheap snacks. Popcorn. The perfect camouflage.
"Perfect," I whispered.
Lyra Vane looked like a mess. Harmless.
But beneath the thrift-store fabric, my muscles coiled. Hidden in the chaotic bun sat a hairpin. High-density titanium alloy. Sharpened to a needlepoint. One strike. Carotid artery. Done.
Old habits. They didn't die. They just waited.
I pressed the button for the 40th floor. Exhaustion pulled at my eyelids. Getting the triplets into Star Academy had been a war. Leo almost hacked the admission server. Aries nearly bit a guard. And Cyra... Cyra smiled that terrifying, innocent smile. I know your secrets.
I needed coffee. I needed a coma. I needed—
Bing.
The doors started to slide shut. Stopped.
A hand. Large. Manicured.
I didn't flinch. Just shifted my grocery bag. Let it crinkle. "Do you mind? My ice cream is melting."
The words died.
The man who stepped in took up all the air.
He was tall. Shoulders strained against black wool. The fabric was tight, sleeves rolled just enough to show forearms that looked like they could strangle a bear. His hair was dark, swept back. Expensive. But it was the scar that caught me.
A jagged white line running from his jaw down into his collar. Stark against the tan skin.
Damon Storm.
Alpha Prime. Father of my children.
The man who ordered my execution five years ago.
Breathe. My lungs burned. He sees a nobody. A broke single mom.
I forced a smile. Vapid. Empty. "Oh. Hi. You're the penthouse guy. The one with the noise issues."
Damon didn't answer. He pressed the penthouse button. Turned. The elevator was huge, but suddenly, the walls felt like they were closing in.
His scent hit me.
Cedarwood. Rain. The metallic tang of power.
It hit like a fist to the gut. My wolf, usually dormant under the blockers, woke up. Snarled.
Mate. Found him.
Shut up. I dug nails into my palm. Pain grounded me. Not mate. Enemy.
The elevator rose. Silence. Heavy. Suffocating.
"Lyra Vane," he said. His voice was a low rumble. Gravel over velvet. It vibrated in my teeth. "We haven't been properly introduced."
I blinked. Feigned confusion. "You know my name? Stalking me already? I'm cute, but buy me dinner first."
I twirled a loose strand of hair. Popped my gum. Loud. Obnoxious.
Damon took a step. The air pressure dropped.
"I don't stalk," he said. Soft. Dangerous. "I hunt."
Too close.
I saw the pulse in his neck. Right next to that scar. A thick vein, beating a steady rhythm. If I moved my hand three inches, I could pull the pin. End it. Save the pups.
Do it, the cold voice whispered. Take him out.
But my body had no loyalty.
I told my legs to move. Back away. They stayed planted. Heat flooded my skin where his aura touched mine. The Bond—that biological curse—pulled me toward him. It wanted me to bare my throat. Wanted me to submit.
Violent hate. Violent want.
"You're invading my personal space," I said. My voice pitched up. A nervous squeak. I hugged the grocery bag. A shield of cheap plastic. "I have pepper spray. And... frozen peas."
Damon didn't back down. He leaned in. Face inches from mine. He wasn't looking at my eyes. He was inhaling.
"You smell..." He frowned. Confusion flickered. "Different."
I froze.
The blockers. Had they failed? Could he smell the triplets? The Shadow Lord?
"Fabric softener," I babbled. "Lavender breeze. Sale. Two for one. You look like a dry-clean only guy."
He ignored the noise. His hand raised. Fingers hovered near my neck. The heat from his skin burned mine without touching. "Under the cheap perfume... under the fear... something else."
His eyes locked onto mine. Amber turned to molten gold. The wolf surfaced.
"Mine," he whispered.
Panic cut through the haze. Cold. Sharp.
He was losing control. If he shifted here, if the madness took him, I'd have to put him down. Cover blown. Game over.
I had to get out.
Ping.
40th floor.
Saved.
"That's me!" I chirped. Ducked under his arm. Calculated clumsy. I stumbled into the hallway, bag swinging.
Safe. Out.
I shouldn't have looked back. Fatal flaw.
Damon hadn't moved. He stood in the center of the metal box. One hand rested on the wall where my head had been. A statue carved from obsession.
"Nice meeting you!" I called. Voice trembling. "Check your AC. You look... overheated."
The doors shut. Cut off the gold gaze.
I collapsed against the wall. Air won't come. Legs shook. I slid to the floor.
"Damn it."
I pulled the titanium pin. Clutched it until it bit my palm. Blood welled.
He knew. Use instincts knew. The game had changed.
I wasn't hiding anymore.
I was being hunted.
Damon's POV
The scent lingered.
Maddening. Intoxicating.
Not just peppermint and sage. Up close, under the synthetic spray... a base note.
Sun-warmed earth. Wildflowers. Gunpowder.
Impossible.
I stared at the empty space. Lyra Vane. The gold digger. The chaos agent.
When I cornered her, I expected fear. I was Alpha Prime. My aura made grown men weep.
She acted afraid. Flinched. Babbled.
But her pulse?
I listened.
When I stepped close, when I crushed her with my presence... her pulse never jumped.
Rhythmic. Steady.
Like a soldier waiting for the order to fire.
"Interesting."
My wolf paced in my mind. Not growling. Not raging. Alert.
Her, the wolf rumbled. The calm.
"Liability," I corrected. I traced the warmth on the wall. "She's hiding something."
The doors opened. Ken waited. Anxious.
"Sir? The... source?"
I walked past him. Threw my jacket on the couch. The tightness in my chest was gone. The grinding pain of the Madness... gone. Two minutes with her. Better than gallons of serum.
"I found her."
I went to the window. Looked down at the city. My mind stayed on the floor below. The woman. The messy bun. The scar on her neck—no, she didn't have a scar. I did. But she had looked at it.
"Ken."
"Yes, Alpha?"
"Cancel the eviction."
Ken exhaled. "Very good, sir. And the virus?"
I smirked. My reflection in the glass looked alive. First time in years.
"No. Don't ignore it."
I tapped the glass.
"Keep surveillance. but pull the team back. No electronics."
"Sir? How do we watch her?"
"We don't," I said. Turned. Eyes gold. "I'll do it."
"I want to know everything. Where she goes. Who she meets."
"You want to... stalk her?" Ken looked horrified.
"I told her I don't stalk," I lowered my voice. "I hunt."
Lyra Vane. The most fascinating prey in a decade.
"But first," I added. Recalled the metallic scent. "Run a background check on that grocery bag."
Ken blinked. "The... bag?"
"She held it like a shield," I said. "But she shifted her weight like she was ready to draw a weapon."
The hunt is on. And I never lose.