Chapter 2

Celest’s POV

My breathing was still uneven, my body humming with the aftermath of what had just happened.

Him.

I blushed as the feeling of satisfaction enveloped me.

I could still feel his touch on my skin, every trace of heat he had left behind. My lips tingled, swollen from his kisses, and my body ached in the most desirable way. What the hell had I done?

I turned my head slightly, watching him.

He lay beside me, his bare chest rising and falling in deep, controlled breaths, but he wasn’t asleep. No, I could tell he was awake by the way his fingers idly traced my wrist where he had gripped me earlier. His touch was light now, almost absentminded, yet possessive in a way that made my blood run cold.

I shouldn’t have let this happen.

But I did.

And damn it, I enjoyed every second of it. The way he drove himself inside me, fast, precise and wild.

It started with the tension, the way his voice had darkened when he asked who I was, the way his grip had tightened around me as if he already knew the answer.

And then the kiss.

I hadn’t been prepared for it, the sheer force of it, the way his lips claimed mine with an urgency that stripped away all rational thought. One moment I was resisting, and the next, I was melting against him.

His hands roamed inside my dress, peeling it away inch by inch until my hard nipples stood bare before him.

And then, everything else disappeared.

I remembered how he had whispered against my skin, the low growl in his throat when he found the mark on my collarbone.

“You’re mine.”

How my body had responded before my mind could stop it. Tingling sensations in delicate parts, my fussy almost dripping with juice.

Quickly he had spread me beneath him, teasing me with his hands, his tongue, his bulge pressing unto me, hard and big.

Immediately I surrendered. Completely.

Now, lying here, the reality of what I’d done started creeping in. I had let my guard down, let him claim me in a way that made my chest feel tight. But now I needed to leave.

Slowly, carefully, I slid my leg from beneath the tangled sheets. I held my breath as I lifted my dress from the floor, silently pulling it over my head. I could hear him shift beside me, but he didn’t stop me. Maybe he thought I’d stay. Maybe a part of me wanted to.

But I couldn’t.

Not when I knew what kind of danger I was playing with.

My fingers closed around the doorknob, and I turned it as quietly as possible. One step, then another, and before I knew it, I was out of the room.

The cold city air hit my face the second I stepped outside, my motorcycle was humming beneath my bum. Every mile I passed seemingly felt I had put a huge gap between myself and him, and it felt like stretching a rubber band too far—painful, with the constant threat of snapping back.

His scent still was on me, clinging hard to my skin like some expensive perfume, a ghost touch I couldn't shake. Even the cool night air whipping past couldn't clear my head of him.

“Focus”.

I had bigger problems than a total stranger who made my skin feel too tight. Much bigger problems.

The hospital's familiar facade loomed ahead, its windows glowing like tired eyes in the darkness. I parked in my usual spot, adjusting my cap low over my eyes as I slipped inside. Three years of visiting had taught me every blind spot in their security, every shift change, every unlocked door.

The night nurse barely glanced up as I passed. Just another shadow in a building full of them.

“Room 407”. The numbers were worn, but I'd memorized them long ago. Below them, a simple nameplate: Elias Caine.

My brother.

My reason for everything.

The machines greeted me with their steady rhythm, beep, whoosh, click. Keeping him alive one mechanical breath at a time. His face was peaceful in the dim light, almost like he was just sleeping. But he'd been "just sleeping" for three years.

My hands shook slightly as I counted out the bills from my pocket. Two thousand dollars. Not even enough to cover a week of his care, but it was all I had. I placed them carefully on the nightstand, next to the wilting flowers I'd brought last week.

A soft knock made my shoulders tense.

Dr. Lawson entered, his face carefully neutral. We'd done this dance enough times that I recognized the look in his eyes, he had news. Whether good or bad remained to be seen.

"Just checking his vitals," he said, picking up the chart.

I watched him scan the pages, noting how his forehead creased slightly.

Finally, he sighed. "There's a new treatment."

My heart stuttered. "Treatment?"

He hesitated, and I knew what was coming. In this world, hope always comes with a price tag.

"It's experimental," he continued carefully. "But the success rates are promising. Five million dollars."

The number hit me like a physical blow.

Five million dollars?.

I could work at the club for fifty years and not make that much.

Something shifted in Dr. Lawson's expression. His hesitation was alarming in itself. "There might be... options. People who could help."

My eyes narrowed. "What kind of people?"

His throat bobbed slightly before he answered. "The kind of people who can write checks with lots of zeros."

The new voice filled the room like smoke, smooth, controlled, and laced with an aura that made my stomach tighten.

I turned slowly.

And I saw Leon Vaughn, the Ceo of Techcore Industries, standing in the doorway like he owned not just the room, but the entire city. He wasn’t just rich, his presence was the kind that made people either fear him or become indebted to him. And most often, both.

From his perfectly tailored suit to the cold calculation in his dark eyes, everything about him spoke of ruthless ambition. Unlike the man I had been with earlier, there was no mystery in Leon Vaughn, only certainty. He wanted something. And when men like him wanted something, they got it.

And right now, he was looking at me like I was the next thing on his list to acquire.

"What do you want?" The words came out steadier than I felt.

His smile was all predator. "I heard you need five million dollars."

My pulse jumped, but I kept my face neutral. "And?"

"And I'm feeling generous." He took a step closer, and I had to fight every fiber in me not to take a step back away from him, "Consider it an investment in your future."

I didn't trust him. Couldn't trust him. But Elias's monitors kept beeping, a steady reminder of why I was here. Why I did everything.

So I asked the only question that mattered.

"What's the price?"

His smile widened, showing just a hint of fang.

"Let's discuss terms."

Magnus POV

Her scent woke me before my eyes opened.

Lavender and rain, mixed with something old that made my wolf pace restlessly beneath my skin. The sheets still held traces of her warmth, but she was gone. Like smoke through fingers.

My body ached with phantom touches—places where her hands had traced fire across my skin. I sat up slowly, muscles coiled tight enough to snap. The little sunlight that was able to filter through huge windows with the curtains draped down did absolutely nothing to get rid of the shadows of last night's memories.

Those memories refused to disappear, instead they clung to every surface in this room and kept glaring back at me as if to torture in a kind of way that was both sweet and tormenting.

Who the hell was she?

The question burned like whiskey in my throat. Everything about her was wrong. That scent—wolf, yes, but twisted with something older than pack laws, older than the concrete jungle I ruled. Then there was that mark. The Moon Goddess's blessing, supposedly extinct for centuries. Yet I'd seen it with my own eyes, felt its power pulse against my lips when I'd……

My jaw clenched hard enough to crack teeth.

For decades, I'd built my reputation on control. Perfect, absolute control. My body rejected touch like armor rejected arrows. Even my most trusted advisors kept their distance, knowing my wolf's intolerance for proximity. Even women that drooled after me and kept chasing after me to be their man, they knew they could get burned if they ever laid a finger on me.

I hated being touched. I hated it to the core.

Then she suddenly came out of nowhere and crashed into me with those wide eyes that were filled with desperation and something that looked like mystery.

Then, my carefully constructed walls had crumbled like they were made of sand.

I'd marked her.

And she'd disappeared.

A sharp knock cut through my brooding.

"Enter."

Nathan stepped in, his face carefully neutral. My Beta had mastered the art of reading my moods over our years together, and right now, his caution spoke volumes about what he saw in my expression.

"You're awake." His tone was carefully even.

"Find her." The words came out like ice.

He didn't even blink. "The girl from the club?"

I fixed him with a stare that made lesser wolves whimper. "Everything. Her name, her past, every breath she's taken in this city. Now."

"Understood." He turned to leave, then paused. "The council meeting…."

"Can wait."

He nodded his head once and immediately left, shitting the door silently behind him.

I brushed my hand through my hair, frustration crawling under my skin as if they were live wires. Control was everything in my world. Control kept the peace between packs, kept humans ignorant of our existence, kept the delicate balance of power from tipping into chaos.

I never lost control.

Until her.

The memory of her haunted me like a fever dream. The way she'd trembled against me, not from fear but from something else entirely. How her body had fit against mine like she'd been carved from my own rib. The moment my fangs had grazed her neck, and the world had tilted on its axis.

I exhaled sharply, standing to pace the length of my penthouse bedroom.

No one had ever made me hesitate.

No one had ever made me question.

She'd done both in the span of a single night.

And that made her dangerous.