Kira moved like smoke through the south corridor, the listening device already pressed to the underside of Vesper Kane's private suite door. The tiny disc clicked into place with a faint magnetic snap. Lila's voice purred in her earpiece.
"Signal live. We're in. Now get out before—"
A thunderous crash shook the entire tower.
Screams erupted from the main hall. Gunfire cracked—suppressed but unmistakable. The acrid bite of silver-laced bullets stung the air. Kira's hand flew to her blades as the building's emergency lights flared crimson, bathing everything in the color of the coming eclipse.
"Ambush!" Jax bellowed over comms. "Three vans just rammed the east entrance—Midnight Howlers, heavily armed. They're hitting everyone!"
Neutral ground rules shattered in seconds. Alphas who had been toasting alliances moments ago now tore into each other with claws and fangs. Marek, her fake employer, bolted past her toward the exits, only to be tackled by a howling Midnight wolf.
Kira didn't hesitate. She triggered her shadow-veil.
The world bled gray. She sprinted low, blades drawn, slicing through the first attacker who lunged at her—throat opened before he even registered the blur. Sixty seconds. She had to reach the extraction point.
But the moon-thread suddenly screamed.
A raw, visceral yank tore through her chest, nearly dropping her to her knees. Ryker. He was close—too close—and in pain. She felt the echo of a silver bullet grazing his ribs, the hot flare of his rage, and beneath it, the feral edge of the bond demanding she protect what was hers.
No. He wasn't hers. He was the target.
Yet her feet turned toward the main hall anyway.
She dropped the veil at the archway, blades dripping, and took in the chaos. Tables overturned. Bodies on marble. Vesper's personal guard formed a defensive ring around the councilor, but Ryker had broken formation. He fought like a storm given flesh—fists shattering jaws, claws raking across furred hides. Blood streaked his torn dress shirt, plastering the fabric to ridged muscle. A Midnight Howler alpha—massive, silver-furred in half-shift—barreled toward him with a serrated blade aimed at his spine.
The thread flared white-hot. Kira's vision tunneled.
Before conscious thought caught up, she was moving. Veil flickered on for three stolen seconds. She reappeared behind the attacker, driving both blades into the gaps of his armored vest—once in the kidney, once through the base of the skull. The giant dropped with a wet gurgle.
Ryker spun, storm-gray eyes locking on her through the melee. Shock, then fury, then something darker—relief laced with raw hunger. Blood trickled from a cut above his brow. His chest heaved.
"You," he snarled, voice rough with pain and the rising feral edge. He closed the distance in two strides, grabbing her arm and yanking her behind a toppled table as bullets chewed the marble where she'd stood. "What the hell are you doing here?"
"Saving your arrogant ass, apparently," she snapped, shoving him off even as the contact sent liquid fire racing through her veins. Skin on skin again. The bond drank it in greedily, flooding her with vivid flashes: his body pinning hers to this very floor, hips snapping hard while chaos raged around them, her nails raking bloody trails down his back as she took every brutal inch.
Her core clenched. Fresh slick soaked her panties. She hated how her nipples pebbled against her tactical top.
Ryker's nostrils flared. He smelled it—smelled her—and a low, possessive growl rumbled from his chest. "You're wet in the middle of a firefight. The moon-thread is laughing at us both."
"Shut up and fight," she hissed, but her voice came out breathier than she liked.
They moved together without discussion—two predators falling into lethal sync. Kira veiled for quick strikes, appearing and disappearing to hamstring attackers. Ryker used raw alpha power and brute strength, snapping necks and hurling bodies like ragdolls. When a Midnight wolf lunged at her from the side, Ryker intercepted, slamming the attacker into a pillar so hard the marble cracked. Then he turned, grabbed her waist with one blood-slick hand, and hauled her flush against him for half a second—long enough for her to feel the hard, thick length of him straining against his trousers.
"Stay behind me," he ordered, alpha command threading the words.
Kira bared her teeth, even as heat pooled low and her wolf whimpered in treacherous delight. "I don't take orders from the man who rejected me." She twisted free, drove her blade into another throat, and spun back. "Especially not the one I came here to kill."
Ryker's laugh was dark, edged with pain and lust. "Keep telling yourself that, little rogue. Your body already knows the truth."
A fresh wave of Midnight Howlers poured in. Vesper shouted orders from his guarded corner, but his eyes flicked toward Kira with cold calculation. He knew. Or suspected.
The thread pulsed harder, feeding her Ryker's pain as another silver bullet grazed his shoulder. She felt the burn as if it were her own. The bond wanted her to heal him—with teeth, with tongue, with her body wrapped around his while the moon sang.
"Extraction in ninety seconds!" Lila shouted in her ear. "East loading dock—Jax has the van running hot."
Kira grabbed Ryker's wrist—ignoring how right it felt—and yanked him toward a side exit. "Move. Unless you want to die here with your precious uncle."
He didn't argue. They sprinted through a narrower service corridor, boots pounding marble slick with blood. Behind them, the battle roared on. Ahead, emergency lights strobed red.
Halfway down the hall, Ryker suddenly shoved her against the wall, covering her body with his as a stray burst of automatic fire ripped through the space they'd just occupied. His chest pressed to hers, hips slotting between her thighs instinctively. Heat. Hard muscle. The thick ridge of his cock grinding against her core through too many layers of fabric.
Kira gasped. The friction was electric. Her hips rolled once—traitorous, seeking—before she caught herself.
Ryker groaned, forehead dropping to hers. "Fuck, Kira… you feel that? The bond is burning. I can smell how badly you need me inside you. How slick you are right now." His voice dropped to a gravelly whisper against her lips. "One word and I'll take you right here—hard and fast until the feral quiets. Let me knot you. Let me make you mine while the world burns."
Her hands fisted in his torn shirt. She wanted it. Gods help her, she wanted to rip his clothes off and sink down onto him until he stretched her to the edge of pain and pleasure. Wanted to ride him while she still held the knife to his throat.
Instead, she head-butted him—light enough to stun, hard enough to remind him who she was.
"Touch me like that again without permission and I'll geld you before the moon gets the chance," she snarled, even as her body screamed for more.
Ryker pulled back just enough to meet her eyes. Blood streaked his face. His gaze was wild—alpha, feral, starving. "You can threaten me all you want. But when the Crimson Moon rises full, this bond will force the choice. And I won't let you die fighting it alone."
Footsteps thundered behind them. More attackers.
Kira shoved him off and bolted for the loading dock doors. Jax's van idled outside, engine growling. Lila leaned out the side door, rifle ready.
"Boss! Get in!"
Kira leaped inside. Ryker was right behind her—too close, too fast. He caught the door before Jax could slam it shut.
"You're not leaving without me," he growled. "Not tonight. Not with that thread trying to tear us both apart."
Jax looked to Kira, knuckles white on the wheel. "Your call, alpha."
Kira's chest heaved. The moon-thread sang between her and Ryker like a living flame—promising ecstasy, promising destruction. She could kill him now. One blade to the heart while he stood there bleeding and hard for her.
Or she could use him. Weaponize the bond. Learn every secret of Ironfang from the inside before she burned it all down.
Her eyes met his. Hate and hunger twisted together until she couldn't tell them apart.
"Drive," she told Jax.
The van peeled out into the night, tires screeching. Ryker dropped onto the bench opposite her, eyes never leaving hers. Blood soaked his shirt. His scent filled the confined space—pine, smoke, male, and raw need.
Lila whistled low. "Well, this just got interesting."
Kira leaned back, blades still in hand, the ghost of his body heat still burning against her skin.
Phase two of her plan had just become a thousand times more dangerous.
Because the man she had sworn to destroy was now trapped in a van with her… and the Crimson Moon was rising.
Every mile they put between them and the tower only tightened the thread. Every shared breath made the ache between her thighs sharper.
Revenge had never tasted so much like sin.
And Kira wasn't sure anymore whether she wanted to end Ryker Thorn… or claim him first.