Rachel stood by the tall glass window of Dylan’s penthouse, arms wrapped around herself as she stared down at the glittering lights of Bunga City. The night buzzed below like an unspoken warning. But all she could think about was the woman in crimson—the way she looked at her, the chill in her words.“You smell… interesting.”Even now, the memory sent goosebumps racing across her arms. It wasn’t just what she said. It was how she said it. As if Rachel wasn’t a person, but prey. Something to be claimed… or consumed.The sound of Dylan’s voice broke her thoughts. He was on the phone in the next room, his tone clipped, measured. Protective. Since bringing her back, he hadn’t let her out of his sight.“No. I don’t care if the Council demands an answer,” he growled. “If they want a report, they can come to me directly. I’m not leaving her unguarded.”A pause.“Triple the security. I want one team on the perimeter, one in the shadows, and a third monitoring every magical ripple within a ten
“You’re telling me I’m some kind of magical bloodline?” Rachel asked, pacing the room in a circle, her voice rising. “That I’m… Elira?” Dylan stood at the center of the room, shirtless, bruised from the earlier impact. “I didn’t know,” he said evenly. “I swear.” “You didn’t *know*?” She spun on him. “You’ve been alive for centuries, Dylan! You know things no one else does. You can’t tell me that name means nothing.” “I told you,” he said, jaw tight, “Elira is a name from the old world. The Moon’s chosen. A line of women who could bind the supernatural with just a whisper. But they were wiped out. Hunted.” Rachel’s eyes widened. “Hunted… why?” “They were too powerful. The Council saw them as a threat. Some say they sided with the darkness. Others believe they were protectors. Either way, both sides feared them.” “And you never thought—never *felt*—that maybe I was—” “No,” he said, stepping forward. “When I met you, all I felt was the mate bond. That’s it.” She stared at
Stacy crept around the side of the rusted warehouse, hoodie up, breath shallow. The tracking app on her phone blinked steadily. Dylan was inside. But why? He told her this place had been shut down. She slid closer, boots crunching lightly on gravel, and pressed herself against the side door. Faint voices filtered through the metal. She tilted her head. “Is it confirmed?” a deep voice said. “Not yet,” came Dylan’s voice. “But she’s showing signs.” Stacy frowned. “You’re sure she’s the one?” “Yes,” Dylan replied. “The woman in crimson marked her.” Stacy’s eyes narrowed. Rachel? They were talking about Rachel. “She’s dangerous, Dylan,” the other man said. “She’s not,” Dylan shot back. “She’s Elira’s blood.” Stacy gasped. Elira? She backed away quietly, but her elbow brushed against a hanging chain. It clanked loudly. Inside, the voices went silent. Dylan’s voice rose. “Someone’s outside.” Panic surged. Stacy bolted, running for the tree line. A second
“You’re sure it’s her?” Dylan asked. Nyra didn’t blink. “I felt her magic. She’s here. In Bunga.” Rachel stepped forward. “You said she’s not alone. Who’s with her?” Nyra looked between them. “Someone older. Stronger.” “Stronger than her?” Dylan asked. Nyra nodded. “He carries the scent of ancient blood. Something that shouldn’t exist.” Rachel swallowed. “Do they want me?” Nyra’s eyes narrowed. “They want to *awaken* you.” “I thought I was already awakening,” Rachel said. “Not fully,” Nyra replied. “They want to force it.” “What happens if they do?” Dylan asked. Nyra looked at Rachel. “She loses control.” --- The woman in crimson kneeled before a man cloaked in shadow. His eyes were molten gold, face hidden beneath a hood. “She’s resisting,” she said. “She won’t for long.” “She’s bonded to the wolf.” “I know.” “Should we separate them?” The man smiled. “No. Let him watch her become something he can’t control.” --- Rachel paced. “So what do I do
Stacy paced the length of her room, the old journal clutched in her hands. Her fingers trembled as she flipped back to the first page—the one with the name she still couldn’t believe was real. *Elira.* The woman Rachel was supposed to be. The woman who once wrote: *“If the wolf finds me again, I’ll destroy him.”* Her throat tightened. Dylan wasn’t just hiding the truth about Rachel—he was hiding something from *her*, too. Something from before she ever came into his life. With a sharp breath, she marched toward the door. Rachel sat on the couch, her knees pulled to her chest. The memory of her own reflection smiling back at her haunted her like a shadow she couldn’t shake. She’d checked the mirror three more times since, and every time, the face staring back was hers. And yet… not. Nyra sat cross-legged on the floor, humming softly as she drew symbols in chalk on the marble. Dylan paced by the window. When Stacy walked in holding the journal, all three of them t
The halls were quiet. Too quiet. Dylan moved through them fast, his black coat billowing behind him. Nyra flanked his left, her palm already glowing faintly with silver runes. A silent alert had come from one of Dylan’s hidden security failsafes—one he’d embedded into Stacy’s school locker months ago without telling her. “Cameras went dead five minutes ago,” he said. “Magical interference,” Nyra replied. “She’s masking herself.” “I can still smell her.” They turned the final corner—and stopped cold. The woman in crimson stood at the end of the hallway, heels clicking slowly on the tile, her hair coiled high, her lips painted blood. She was alone. Or so it seemed. Dylan’s jaw clenched. “Where’s Stacy?” The woman smiled. “Safe.” “You don’t get to be near her.” “You brought her into this,” she replied. “Not me.” Nyra stepped forward. “You’ve crossed a line.” The woman’s smile widened. “Have I? Or has she?” Her gaze turned sharper. “The girl who wears Elira’s
“You said she touched you?” Dylan asked, crouching in front of Stacy, his voice low but urgent.Stacy sat on the penthouse couch, arms wrapped around her knees, eyes wide. “I didn’t even see her. I just… felt something. Cold. Like something brushed the back of my neck.”Rachel sat beside her, gripping her hand. “You’re sure it wasn’t your imagination?”“She whispered something,” Stacy said. “I don’t know what it was, but I felt it inside my head.”Dylan turned to Nyra. “Can she mark someone mentally?”Nyra frowned. “Not in the way a wolf marks. But she can tether her presence to a person’s aura.”Rachel blinked. “So she’s… what? Watching her?”Nyra hesitated. “Or waiting.”Dylan stood. “I need to know what she did. Scan her.”Stacy recoiled. “Scan me? What—like magic MRI?”Nyra crouched slowly. “Close enough. I won’t hurt you.”Stacy looked at Rachel.Rachel nodded. “It’s okay.”Nyra reached forward, placing two fingers against Stacy’s temple. Her eyes fluttered shut. A soft silver gl
Rachel gripped the edge of the table, her knuckles pale against the wood. “She wasn’t alone.”Dylan raised an eyebrow, his gaze sharp. “You mean at the execution?”Rachel nodded slowly. “Someone was there. A man. Tall. Cloaked in gold and black. He stood behind the crowd. He never moved. Just… watched.”Nyra leaned forward, her brow furrowed. “The Executioner?”“No,” Rachel said firmly. “She didn’t fear him. She looked right at him. Not with fear. With *recognition*. She *knew* him. Right before the flames reached her, she found him in the crowd.”“What did she say?” Dylan asked, his voice barely above a whisper.Rachel's throat tightened, but she forced the words out. “She whispered… ‘You were supposed to protect me.’”Dylan’s jaw clenched, and his fists tightened at his sides. “Who the hell was he?”“I don’t know,” Rachel said, voice quiet. “But I’ve seen his eyes before. Not in the memory. Recently.”Nyra froze. “Describe them.”Rachel met her gaze, the image burned into her mind.
Rachel gripped the edge of the table, her knuckles pale against the wood. “She wasn’t alone.”Dylan raised an eyebrow, his gaze sharp. “You mean at the execution?”Rachel nodded slowly. “Someone was there. A man. Tall. Cloaked in gold and black. He stood behind the crowd. He never moved. Just… watched.”Nyra leaned forward, her brow furrowed. “The Executioner?”“No,” Rachel said firmly. “She didn’t fear him. She looked right at him. Not with fear. With *recognition*. She *knew* him. Right before the flames reached her, she found him in the crowd.”“What did she say?” Dylan asked, his voice barely above a whisper.Rachel's throat tightened, but she forced the words out. “She whispered… ‘You were supposed to protect me.’”Dylan’s jaw clenched, and his fists tightened at his sides. “Who the hell was he?”“I don’t know,” Rachel said, voice quiet. “But I’ve seen his eyes before. Not in the memory. Recently.”Nyra froze. “Describe them.”Rachel met her gaze, the image burned into her mind.
“You said she touched you?” Dylan asked, crouching in front of Stacy, his voice low but urgent.Stacy sat on the penthouse couch, arms wrapped around her knees, eyes wide. “I didn’t even see her. I just… felt something. Cold. Like something brushed the back of my neck.”Rachel sat beside her, gripping her hand. “You’re sure it wasn’t your imagination?”“She whispered something,” Stacy said. “I don’t know what it was, but I felt it inside my head.”Dylan turned to Nyra. “Can she mark someone mentally?”Nyra frowned. “Not in the way a wolf marks. But she can tether her presence to a person’s aura.”Rachel blinked. “So she’s… what? Watching her?”Nyra hesitated. “Or waiting.”Dylan stood. “I need to know what she did. Scan her.”Stacy recoiled. “Scan me? What—like magic MRI?”Nyra crouched slowly. “Close enough. I won’t hurt you.”Stacy looked at Rachel.Rachel nodded. “It’s okay.”Nyra reached forward, placing two fingers against Stacy’s temple. Her eyes fluttered shut. A soft silver gl
The halls were quiet. Too quiet. Dylan moved through them fast, his black coat billowing behind him. Nyra flanked his left, her palm already glowing faintly with silver runes. A silent alert had come from one of Dylan’s hidden security failsafes—one he’d embedded into Stacy’s school locker months ago without telling her. “Cameras went dead five minutes ago,” he said. “Magical interference,” Nyra replied. “She’s masking herself.” “I can still smell her.” They turned the final corner—and stopped cold. The woman in crimson stood at the end of the hallway, heels clicking slowly on the tile, her hair coiled high, her lips painted blood. She was alone. Or so it seemed. Dylan’s jaw clenched. “Where’s Stacy?” The woman smiled. “Safe.” “You don’t get to be near her.” “You brought her into this,” she replied. “Not me.” Nyra stepped forward. “You’ve crossed a line.” The woman’s smile widened. “Have I? Or has she?” Her gaze turned sharper. “The girl who wears Elira’s
Stacy paced the length of her room, the old journal clutched in her hands. Her fingers trembled as she flipped back to the first page—the one with the name she still couldn’t believe was real. *Elira.* The woman Rachel was supposed to be. The woman who once wrote: *“If the wolf finds me again, I’ll destroy him.”* Her throat tightened. Dylan wasn’t just hiding the truth about Rachel—he was hiding something from *her*, too. Something from before she ever came into his life. With a sharp breath, she marched toward the door. Rachel sat on the couch, her knees pulled to her chest. The memory of her own reflection smiling back at her haunted her like a shadow she couldn’t shake. She’d checked the mirror three more times since, and every time, the face staring back was hers. And yet… not. Nyra sat cross-legged on the floor, humming softly as she drew symbols in chalk on the marble. Dylan paced by the window. When Stacy walked in holding the journal, all three of them t
“You’re sure it’s her?” Dylan asked. Nyra didn’t blink. “I felt her magic. She’s here. In Bunga.” Rachel stepped forward. “You said she’s not alone. Who’s with her?” Nyra looked between them. “Someone older. Stronger.” “Stronger than her?” Dylan asked. Nyra nodded. “He carries the scent of ancient blood. Something that shouldn’t exist.” Rachel swallowed. “Do they want me?” Nyra’s eyes narrowed. “They want to *awaken* you.” “I thought I was already awakening,” Rachel said. “Not fully,” Nyra replied. “They want to force it.” “What happens if they do?” Dylan asked. Nyra looked at Rachel. “She loses control.” --- The woman in crimson kneeled before a man cloaked in shadow. His eyes were molten gold, face hidden beneath a hood. “She’s resisting,” she said. “She won’t for long.” “She’s bonded to the wolf.” “I know.” “Should we separate them?” The man smiled. “No. Let him watch her become something he can’t control.” --- Rachel paced. “So what do I do
Stacy crept around the side of the rusted warehouse, hoodie up, breath shallow. The tracking app on her phone blinked steadily. Dylan was inside. But why? He told her this place had been shut down. She slid closer, boots crunching lightly on gravel, and pressed herself against the side door. Faint voices filtered through the metal. She tilted her head. “Is it confirmed?” a deep voice said. “Not yet,” came Dylan’s voice. “But she’s showing signs.” Stacy frowned. “You’re sure she’s the one?” “Yes,” Dylan replied. “The woman in crimson marked her.” Stacy’s eyes narrowed. Rachel? They were talking about Rachel. “She’s dangerous, Dylan,” the other man said. “She’s not,” Dylan shot back. “She’s Elira’s blood.” Stacy gasped. Elira? She backed away quietly, but her elbow brushed against a hanging chain. It clanked loudly. Inside, the voices went silent. Dylan’s voice rose. “Someone’s outside.” Panic surged. Stacy bolted, running for the tree line. A second
“You’re telling me I’m some kind of magical bloodline?” Rachel asked, pacing the room in a circle, her voice rising. “That I’m… Elira?” Dylan stood at the center of the room, shirtless, bruised from the earlier impact. “I didn’t know,” he said evenly. “I swear.” “You didn’t *know*?” She spun on him. “You’ve been alive for centuries, Dylan! You know things no one else does. You can’t tell me that name means nothing.” “I told you,” he said, jaw tight, “Elira is a name from the old world. The Moon’s chosen. A line of women who could bind the supernatural with just a whisper. But they were wiped out. Hunted.” Rachel’s eyes widened. “Hunted… why?” “They were too powerful. The Council saw them as a threat. Some say they sided with the darkness. Others believe they were protectors. Either way, both sides feared them.” “And you never thought—never *felt*—that maybe I was—” “No,” he said, stepping forward. “When I met you, all I felt was the mate bond. That’s it.” She stared at
Rachel stood by the tall glass window of Dylan’s penthouse, arms wrapped around herself as she stared down at the glittering lights of Bunga City. The night buzzed below like an unspoken warning. But all she could think about was the woman in crimson—the way she looked at her, the chill in her words.“You smell… interesting.”Even now, the memory sent goosebumps racing across her arms. It wasn’t just what she said. It was how she said it. As if Rachel wasn’t a person, but prey. Something to be claimed… or consumed.The sound of Dylan’s voice broke her thoughts. He was on the phone in the next room, his tone clipped, measured. Protective. Since bringing her back, he hadn’t let her out of his sight.“No. I don’t care if the Council demands an answer,” he growled. “If they want a report, they can come to me directly. I’m not leaving her unguarded.”A pause.“Triple the security. I want one team on the perimeter, one in the shadows, and a third monitoring every magical ripple within a ten
Dylan knew something was wrong the moment his phone buzzed in his pocket. He had just stepped out of a shareholder video call when the device vibrated against his thigh with a ping that set his instincts on high alert. He pulled it out and saw a message—not from Rachel, not from Grace, and not from any of his staff. It was from one of his private surveillance agents positioned near the coffee shop.**“Unidentified female—possible supernatural. Engaged brief interaction with subject Dockham. Leaving scene now.”**Dylan’s jaw locked.It had only been a day.A single day since Rachel accepted him.And already, something—or someone—had caught her scent.He didn't hesitate. He called the underground garage, ordered the car, and was out of the building in less than two minutes.---At the café, Rachel tried to shake off the cold dread left in the woman’s wake, but it clung to her skin like the chill of a ghost's breath. She wiped her damp palms on her apron and tried to resume her task, but