The road stretched ahead like a vein through the heart of the valley, shadowed by the mountains and haloed in twilight. The engine hummed low beneath them, a dark purr of motion as Freya drove. Alex sat in the passenger seat, one elbow propped against the window, his knuckles resting against his mouth.
They'd been back from Redwood for barely a day, and already his mood was like a storm cloud pressed into a suit. The meeting with the other Alphas had gone as expected—useless posturing, veiled threats, nothing concrete. Just another circus where no one wanted to admit the world was shifting beneath their feet.
"You're awfully quiet for someone who just dodged an all-out war," Freya said lightly, one hand on the wheel, the other draped over her thigh.
Alex didn't answer immediately. His eyes stayed fixed on the blur of trees and lights outside.
"Because I didn't dodge anything," he muttered. "I postponed it. Ronan's still a smug little bastard, and his beta's even worse. Ashmoon's not going to play nice forever."
Freya's gaze flicked to him. "Still nursing that grudge, huh?"
"It's not a grudge. It's memory." He turned his head, jaw clenched. "You forget the way he used to parade that superiority like a badge of honor. Like Nightfang was beneath them."
Freya shrugged. "Most packs do. You terrify them."
"Good. Let them stay terrified."
A beat of silence. Freya tapped her fingers along the wheel.
"The rave's tonight."
"I know."
"You're going to let them celebrate without showing your face? They'll talk."
"They always talk."
Alex exhaled slowly, the tension in his chest refusing to unravel. Damon, his wolf, was prowling just beneath his skin—restless, silent, but sharp-edged. He hadn't said a word since they left the estate. But Alex could feel him, rising like smoke from embers.
He shifted, eyes narrowing at the pulse of music starting to throb faintly in the distance.
"Stop the car," he said.
Freya blinked. "What?"
"I need air. I'll walk from here."
Freya didn't argue. She eased the vehicle to the side of the road. Alex opened the door and stepped out, boots crunching against the gravel.
The night hit him immediately—cool and buzzing with energy. He rolled his shoulders, tilting his head back to watch the stars blink through the clouds. The bass of the music carried through the valley like a pulse.
He took a step forward—and Damon finally spoke.
I can feel her.
The voice was low, rough like gravel soaked in wine. Hungry.
She's here. Ours.
Alex froze.
"No," he said aloud.
Damon didn't growl. Didn't demand. He simply repeated it, more certain.
She's here. She's close. And she's ours.
"It's not possible," Alex whispered. "You know that. We're cursed. There is no mate."
We were wrong.
Alex shook his head, the memories flashing behind his eyes like knives—blood in his hands, betrayal burned into his skin. The she-wolf who'd claimed to love him, only to offer his secrets to their enemies. The bond he'd felt once, snuffed out like it had never been there at all.
He'd never felt it again. Not once.
Until now?
No. He wouldn't let himself hope.
But Damon's presence pressed harder, his energy radiating from within.
You'll see.
The path toward the clearing opened ahead, strung with soft lights and laughter. The sound of bodies moving. Of life lived freely.
Alex stepped forward slowly, boots hitting the forest floor in rhythm with the beat. Lights filtered through the trees—purple, gold, red—shimmering against the leaves.
And then he saw her.
And I saw her.
Not clearly. Not at first.
Just the glow of her—skin like rich earth kissed by moonlight, hips that rolled with each step like she owned the whole fucking street. Her arms were up, hair wild and free, laughing as she danced between two girls. The lights flickered over her like a spotlight from the gods.
And she was barely dressed.
My pulse slammed into my throat.
Short black crop top, the kind that clung to every curve like a second skin. Bikini bottoms strung low on her hips, pearls glinting around the edges, teasing the dip where her thighs met. Long legs. Thick thighs. Soft, sinful softness that shouldn't be legal.
And the hat.
A fucking cowboy hat perched low on her curls like she was playing with danger.
She was danger.
And I wanted to bite her.
My hand curled into a fist.
She turned then, half-spinning, head thrown back in a laugh I couldn't hear but felt everywhere. The light hit her full-on, and that's when I saw it—really saw it.
Penelope.
The cleaner.
The girl who didn't flinch when I put her against a wall. The girl who haunted my quarters like a scent I couldn't burn away. My angel.
And everything shifted.
My vision tunneled.
The bond slammed into me like a fucking freight train.
Breath gone.
Control gone.
"Ours," Damon roared.
"ours," I whispered.
I couldn't look away. Couldn't breathe right. My hands itched to touch. My mouth watered.
I wanted her under me.
Above me.
Wrapped around me, full of me, marked by me.
She danced without shame, sweat catching on the dip of her stomach, those pearl-lined hips swaying like a fucking invitation.
She turned just slightly, head tilted in laughter at something someone said—and Alex's entire world stopped.
Heat shot through his spine, down to his fists.
Damon roared.
MATE.
Alex's heart slammed once, painfully, and he staggered back half a step like he'd been punched. His breath caught in his throat.
She glowed.
Not in some delicate, angelic way—no. This was hunger made flesh. He wanted to taste her. To touch every inch of skin he'd denied dreaming about.
Mine. Damon's growl was laced with something darker now. You feel it. Stop pretending.
"No," Alex whispered. "No, no, no... this isn't how it's supposed to happen."
But it was happening.
She was here.
And every inch of his wolf knew she belonged to them.
Whether she wanted to or not.
He stepped forward, breath shallow, eyes locked on her.
The crowd was noise.
The lights were static.
But she—she was the epicenter of the storm that had been building in his blood since the moment he first touched her.
You said we were cursed, Damon said.
Alex didn't answer.
Because he wasn't so sure anymore.
And God help him—he'd be damned before he let her go.
Reason for editing:
needed to edit some sentences and words