New York City – Midnight
The headache was worse tonight. It burned through his skull, clawing at his sanity as Ronan Nightshade gripped the steering wheel. He exhaled sharply, fingers tightening against the leather, the neon city blurring around him.
The curse was accelerating. His control was slipping.
Then—he felt it.
A pulse in the air, sharper than the agony splitting his mind. His instincts roared awake, sensing something unfamiliar yet devastatingly _right_. A presence. A pull.
Before he could process the sensation, the pain blinded him.
His vision flickered. The beast inside him surfaced.
And then impact.
A thud against his car. A body collapsing onto the asphalt.
The shock cut through the haze. He stumbled out, every nerve on edge, his eyes locking onto the woman now crumpled at his feet.
Her scent. Her presence. He knew instantly.
She was his mate.
But she was human.
The impossibility of it made his breath hitch. He should have expected something this cruel.
Ronan knelt beside her, studying the unconscious woman her dark curls sprawled, her delicate frame rigid from the collision. His pulse pounded. The urge to protect her, claim her, overwhelmed logic.
Without hesitation, he scooped her into his arms, moving swiftly into the hospital.
The doctors rushed forward, asking questions, but he ignored them, voice steady as he demanded she be treated. Money was no issue. He could buy every hospital in this city if it meant ensuring her safety.
But he couldn't stay.
If she woke, she'd see him. And his instincts were too unpredictable right now.
With one last glance at her unconscious form, Ronan turned and walked away.
Elara's eyes fluttered open to the sterile scent of antiseptic and bright overhead lights.
Disorientation washed over her. Her body ached, bruises blooming across her skin, but she barely registered the pain.
Her father. She had been on her way to see him.
Panic surged through her veins. She shot upright, yanking the IV from her arm, her breaths shallow.
Where was she? Who had brought her here?
A nurse appeared in the doorway. "Miss, you need to rest"
"I need to leave," she interrupted, heart pounding.
"You were in an accident.. "
Her mind whirled. A car. The impact. And then nothing.
She had no time to dwell on the mystery. Her father was waiting.
Without another word, she stumbled out of the hospital, ignoring the concerned voices behind her.
Her thoughts raced. Her father's surgery had been urgent, and now she had hospital bills she couldn't afford. How would she manage everything?
She barely noticed the shadow lingering nearby.
Ronan watched her from a distance, concealed in the crowd.
His mate, fragile yet strong-willed, tearing through the city with worry in her eyes.
She didn't even know he existed.
But soon she would.
And he had no idea how much she would change his world.
Hospital Corridor – Late Night
Elara's footsteps echoed through the pristine halls of her father's hospital, her heartbeat racing against time. The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed, drowning out the thoughts colliding in her mind.
She barely remembered the accident. The mysterious hospital bill paid for her. The unknown benefactor who had disappeared before she woke.
None of it mattered now.
Her father's condition had worsened, and the hospital wasn't waiting for miracles.
"Miss Elara," the nurse sighed, sympathetic but firm. "We need the payment before proceeding with the surgery."
Elara swallowed hard, gripping the edge of the counter. "II'll find the money. Just give me time."
Time. That was the one thing she didn't have.
She turned on her heel, her vision blurring with frustration. As she stepped out into the cold New York air, reality hit her like a slap.
She had nothing. No savings. No safety net.
And then like a whisper in the wind, she felt it.
A presence.
Her spine stiffened. A strange sensation crawled down her skin, prickling every nerve.
Someone was watching her.
She snapped her head toward the street.
Nothing but shadows.
Yet the feeling remained.
Ronan's Penthouse – Midnight
Ronan had never been this reckless. Watching her like this unseen, unknown, it wasn't his way.
But he couldn't stop himself.
She was suffering. Struggling. And something inside him burned with the need to intervene.
His fingers curled against the glass of his penthouse window. From here, he could track her every movement through the city.
But she had no idea she had collided with destiny.
And worse, she was entangled in problems that could very well pull her beyond his reach.
The curse stirred.
Three years left.
If he let her slip away now, he wouldn't survive what came next.