The rain in New York never felt clean. It slicked the alleys behind the old meatpacking district like oil, turning cracked pavement into mirrors that reflected the neon bleed from the clubs two blocks over. I stood under a rusted overhang, wrists zip-tied in front of me, trying not to shiver in the thin black dress my aunt had shoved me into. The kind that screamed "desperate" more than "elegant."

"Keep your head down, Elena," Uncle Frank muttered, his breath sour with cheap whiskey. "This is the only way out of the hole your deadbeat parents left us. Damien Blackthorn doesn't do charity. He collects."

I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted copper. My parents hadn't left a hole-they'd left me. Died in a car wreck when I was fourteen, leaving me with these bloodsuckers who treated me like a walking IOU. Six years of "you're lucky we kept you" and "eat less, you're costing us." Now I was twenty, and the debt had finally come due.

A black SUV idled at the curb, engine purring like a predator. Two men in dark suits stepped out first-earpieces, shoulder holsters barely hidden under tailored jackets. Mafia muscle. Everyone in the underground knew the Blackthorn name. Billionaire on paper, running half the tech corridors in Manhattan. In the shadows? Don of the Blackthorn Pack. Werewolves who wore Armani and broke bones with the same hands.

The back door opened.

He stepped out.

Damien Blackthorn didn't just walk-he owned the air around him. Six-four easy, shoulders carved from marble and midnight. Black hair swept back, sharp jaw shadowed by stubble that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe. His eyes-God, his eyes-were storm-cloud gray flecked with gold. Alpha eyes. Even from twenty feet away, they pinned me like a butterfly to cork.

My knees buckled. Not from fear. Something deeper. A snap inside my chest, like a rubber band stretched too far and finally breaking. Heat flooded my veins, pooling low in my belly. My skin prickled as if invisible fingers traced my spine. The bond. I'd read about it in the forbidden books my aunt kept locked away-fated mates, Moon Goddess's cruel joke. Rare. Dangerous. Irresistible.

No. Not him. Not the man buying me like livestock.

Uncle Frank shoved me forward. "Mr. Blackthorn. As promised. Clean, healthy, no criminal record. Wolfless, but-"

"Quiet." Damien's voice was velvet over gravel. He didn't look at my uncle. His gaze stayed locked on me, nostrils flaring like he could smell the bond too. The gold in his eyes brightened. For one heartbeat, his mask cracked-raw hunger, surprise, something almost like recognition.

Then it shuttered.

He circled me once, slow, boots splashing through puddles. Close enough that his cologne-sandalwood, smoke, and something wild like pine forests after rain-wrapped around me. My traitorous body leaned in before I caught myself.

"Name," he said.

"Elena Voss." My voice didn't shake. Small victory.

He stopped in front of me. Towered. One finger tipped my chin up, forcing eye contact. The touch burned. Electricity arced straight to my core, making my thighs clench. His pupils blew wide.

"Mine," he murmured, so low only I heard it. Not a question. A claim.

The bond sang back. Yes.

I hated how much I wanted to say it out loud.

The paperwork took ten minutes in the back of the SUV. My uncle signed away his "rights" with a shaking hand, pocketed a check that made his eyes bulge, and disappeared into the rain without a backward glance. I didn't expect goodbye. Didn't want one.

Damien didn't speak again until the car pulled into underground parking beneath a glass-and-steel tower on Fifth Avenue. Blackthorn Tower. The penthouse lights glowed like a crown above the city.

He led me to an elevator that required a thumbprint and retinal scan. Inside, the mirrored walls reflected us-him, immaculate in charcoal suit; me, rain-damp and trembling in discount heels.

"You feel it," he said flatly. Not a question.

I nodded once.

"Good. Then you understand the rules." The elevator dinged. Doors opened into an apartment that swallowed my entire childhood home twice over. Floor-to-ceiling windows, marble that probably came from Italy, a fireplace big enough to roast a deer. "This is a contract. Debt paid in full. You live here. You warm my bed when I say. You stay out of pack business. In public, you're arm candy-quiet, obedient, decorative. Cross me, and I'll ship you back to whatever gutter your family crawled from. Clear?"

The bond screamed at me to argue, to demand more. I swallowed it. "Clear."

He studied me another long moment. Then his hand cupped my jaw again, thumb brushing my lower lip. "The Moon Goddess has a sick sense of humor, sending me a wolfless mate. But I'll make use of you."

Before I could process the insult, he kissed me.

Not soft. Not gentle. Like he was angry at the bond too. His mouth crushed mine, tongue demanding entry, teeth nipping until I gasped. I kissed him back-because the bond left me no choice, because my body lit up like fireworks, because for one stupid second I wanted to believe this powerful, beautiful monster saw me as more than payment.

He broke away first, breathing hard. "Bedroom. Now."

That night blurred into heat and hands and whispered curses against my skin. He took me like a man drowning, like the bond was a drug he both craved and resented. I lost count of how many times he made me shatter. Each time, the gold in his eyes flared brighter. Each time, I felt the mate mark on my neck tingle where his teeth had grazed but not bitten.

He didn't mark me. Not fully. Not permanently.

Morning came too soon. He was gone before I woke, suit jacket draped over a chair like evidence. A black credit card and a note waited on the nightstand.

Buy clothes that don't embarrass me. Be ready at 8. -D

I stared at it until the letters blurred. The bond hummed warm in my chest, traitor that it was. I told myself it was survival. Told myself I could endure this cage if it meant never going back to my aunt's house.

I was wrong.

Three months later, the cracks showed.

Damien played the devoted husband in public-arm around my waist at charity galas, introducing me as "my wife" to billionaires and senators who didn't know the pack existed. In private? Cold distance. Late nights at "the office" (code for mafia sit-downs). Phone calls that ended the second I entered the room. And the scent on his collars-lilac and vanilla. Another woman's perfume.

I told myself it was pack politics. He had an arranged fiancée before me-Lila Voss, pureblood daughter of a rival alpha. The bond had derailed that. He was adjusting.

Then came our first anniversary.

The penthouse glittered with crystal and low music. Pack elders in tuxedos, their mates in diamonds. Damien had insisted on the party. "Show them the bond is real," he'd said that morning, almost soft. Almost.

I wore red silk that clung like a second skin, hair swept up to show the faint scar where his teeth had almost marked me. I felt beautiful for the first time in my life.

Until Lila walked in.

She was everything I wasn't-tall, golden-haired, wolf power radiating off her like perfume. She crossed the room straight to Damien, hand sliding possessively down his arm. "Darling, you promised me a dance."

The room went still.

Damien's jaw tightened. But he didn't pull away. Instead, he glanced at me-eyes flat, gold dimmed-and said, loud enough for every wolf to hear, "Elena, entertain the guests. I need to speak with Lila privately."

Whispers started immediately. Wolfless. Temporary. Debt payment.

I stood there in my anniversary dress, champagne flute trembling in my hand, while my husband disappeared into the study with the woman whose scent I'd been smelling for weeks.

An hour later, the study door opened. I saw them through the cracked gap-Lila on her knees, mouth on him, his hand fisted in her perfect hair. His groan carried like a gunshot.

The bond shattered inside me. Not broke-ripped. Pain lanced through my chest so sharp I dropped the glass. Crystal exploded across marble.

I ran.

Not far. Just to the guest bathroom, locking the door, sliding down the wall as silent sobs tore out of me. The bond still tugged, traitorously, urging me back to him. But underneath it? Rage. Cold, clear rage.

He found me twenty minutes later. Knocked once. "Open the door, Elena."

I did. Stood there with ruined mascara and a spine made of steel.

His face was stone. "It was a mistake."

"A mistake?" My voice cracked. "You let her-on our anniversary-"

"Pack alliances," he cut in. "Lila's father controls the docks. I need them. The bond... complicates things. But you're still useful."

Useful. Not wanted. Not loved.

The next words out of his mouth sealed it.

"Tomorrow we file the divorce papers. Quietly. You'll get a settlement. Enough to disappear. Don't fight me on this."

I laughed. Bitter, broken sound. "You think the Moon Goddess will just let you throw me away?"

His eyes flashed gold. For one second, regret flickered. Then it died. "The Goddess doesn't run my empire. I do."

He turned to leave.

I grabbed his sleeve. "Damien. Please. I feel it every time you touch me. You feel it too."

He shook me off like I was lint. "Feelings don't pay debts or buy loyalty. Pack comes first. Always."

The door clicked shut behind him.

I sank to the floor again, hand pressed to my stomach. I hadn't told him yet. Hadn't even confirmed it myself until the test two days ago.

Positive.

Twins, the doctor had whispered over the phone that afternoon. Supernatural pregnancy moved fast.

His heirs. Growing inside the wolfless trash he'd just discarded.

I didn't cry again. Instead, I stood, wiped my face, and started planning.

By sunrise, I'd packed one small bag, emptied the emergency cash from his safe (he'd shown me the code once, arrogant fool), and slipped out the service entrance while the pack celebrated his "wise decision" downstairs.

The bond screamed as I left the city limits. It hurt like claws raking my ribs. But I kept driving-stolen car, fake plates I'd arranged through an old contact.

Seattle was far enough. Cold enough. Human enough.

I cut my hair. Dyed it auburn. Took a waitress job under a false name. Built walls around the bond until it was only a dull throb.

Five years later, I still woke some nights reaching for a man who no longer existed in my life.

But the twins-four-year-old Leo and Luna-had his eyes. Storm gray flecked with gold. And sometimes, when they got angry, those eyes glowed.

The bond wasn't done with me.

Neither was Damien Blackthorn.

I just didn't know how soon he'd come to collect.

Seattle rain hit different from New York's. Softer, steadier, like the city itself was apologizing for existing. It drummed on the tin roof of our little duplex in Ballard, the kind of place that smelled like wet cedar and someone else's cooking. I liked it. It felt earned.

I wiped steam from the bathroom mirror and stared at the woman looking back. Twenty-six now. Hair still auburn from the cheap box dye, cut in uneven layers because I'd done it myself with kitchen scissors at three a.m. after a nightmare. Eyes the same hazel they'd always been, but sharper. Tired, maybe. But not broken.

Not anymore.

"Mommy!" Luna's voice bounced up the stairs like a rubber ball. "Leo bit me!"

I sighed, tugged on my faded hoodie-Seattle's uniform-and headed down. The twins were in the living room, surrounded by a fortress of couch cushions and mismatched blankets. Leo, my little menace with Damien's storm-gray eyes, had his sister's arm in his mouth like it was a chew toy. Luna, equally gray-eyed but with my stubborn chin, was yanking her arm free and wailing dramatically.

"Leo Black-let go. Now."

He released her instantly, ears practically drooping even though he didn't have wolf ears yet. At four, their shifts were supposed to be years away. Most pups didn't feel the pull until puberty. But these two? They'd started showing signs at three. Tiny claws when angry. Eyes glowing in the dark. Last week Leo had growled at the mailman loud enough to make the poor guy drop his package and sprint back to his truck.

I knelt, checked Luna's arm-no blood, just baby teeth marks-and pulled them both into my lap. "We don't bite family. Remember?"

Leo buried his face in my neck. "Sorry, Mama. She took my truck."

Luna sniffled. "It was my turn."

I kissed the tops of their heads, inhaling the sweet-shampoo-and-wilderness scent that was uniquely theirs. Part human, part something ancient. Part him. The bond in my chest gave a dull throb, the way it did every time I thought too hard about their father. Five years, and it still hadn't faded. Just quieted. Like a radio left on low in another room.

"Truck time is over. Bath time now. Then story. Deal?"

They grumbled but obeyed, toddling toward the stairs. I watched them go, heart doing that familiar squeeze. They were mine. Not the pack's. Not Damien's. Mine.

The package arrived that afternoon.

Plain brown box, no return address, delivered by a courier who wouldn't meet my eyes. I signed, tipped him anyway, and carried it to the kitchen table like it might explode.

Inside: a single cream envelope sealed with black wax. A wolf's head embossed in the center-Blackthorn crest. My stomach dropped.

I broke the seal with shaking fingers.

One sheet of thick paper. Damien's handwriting-sharp, slanted, impatient.

Elena,

They're shifting. I can feel it through the bond. The Moon Goddess doesn't lie.

Bring them home. Or I'll come get them myself.

You have one week.

-D

No signature flourish. No apology. Just command.

I crumpled it, then smoothed it out again because the twins might need proof someday that their father was a heartless bastard. I shoved it back in the envelope, then into the junk drawer under a pile of takeout menus.

One week.

The bond flared hotter, like he'd poured gasoline on embers. My skin prickled. Heat pooled low again, traitorous and unwelcome. I gripped the counter until my knuckles whitened.

"No," I whispered to the empty kitchen. "Not happening."

But the twins were already showing. Last full moon, Leo had woken screaming, tiny fangs cutting his lip. Luna's nails had lengthened into black claws while she slept. If I didn't get them to a pack healer soon, the shifts could tear them apart from the inside. Human doctors wouldn't know what to do. I'd already tried-ER visit after Leo's first fever spike. They ran tests, found nothing, prescribed Tylenol.

I couldn't risk it.

That night, after the kids were asleep, I sat on the fire escape with a cigarette I hadn't touched in three years. The city lights blurred through the drizzle. My phone buzzed-unknown number.

I answered anyway.

"Elena."

His voice. Deeper than I remembered. Rougher. Like whiskey and gravel.

I closed my eyes. "How did you get this number?"

"Does it matter?" A pause. "They're mine too."

"They're safe. Happy. Without you."

Another pause, longer. "You think hiding them in a human slum keeps them safe? From rival packs? From hunters? From me?"

I laughed, bitter. "You threw me away, Damien. You don't get to claim fatherhood now because biology kicked in."

"I never threw you away." His tone sharpened. "I protected the pack. The alliance. You were-"

"Useful. I remember." I stubbed the cigarette out on the railing. "Until I wasn't."

Silence stretched. When he spoke again, it was quieter. Almost... pained. "The bond never broke. Not for me."

My chest tightened. "Liar."

"I feel you every day. Every time you laugh with them. Every time you cry at night thinking no one hears." His voice dropped. "I know you still want me."

Heat flooded me again-anger, desire, hate all tangled. The bond pulsed like a second heartbeat between my legs. I hated my body for it.

"Go to hell, Damien."

"I'm already there." A rustle, like he was moving. "One week. Or I bring the pack down on Seattle. You won't like what happens when alphas hunt."

He hung up.

I stared at the phone until the screen went dark.

Inside, Luna stirred in her sleep, a small whine escaping. I went to her, smoothed her hair. Leo was curled around her like a guard dog, even in dreams.

They deserved better than a father who'd sell their mother for dock rights.

But they also deserved not to rip themselves apart because their mother was too stubborn to ask for help.

I didn't sleep.

The next morning I called in sick to the diner-first time in two years. Packed two suitcases. Booked three one-way tickets to New York. Red-eye. Cheapest seats.

I told myself it was temporary. Get the kids to a healer, learn control, then disappear again. Better this time. Maybe Canada. Or Europe.

I told myself a lot of lies that day.

At the airport, Leo clutched his favorite truck. Luna held my hand so tight her knuckles turned white.

"Are we going to see Daddy?" she asked, voice small.

I swallowed. "Maybe."

Leo looked up at me with those damn gray eyes. "Is he nice?"

I forced a smile. "He's... complicated."

The plane taxied. The bond sang louder the closer we got to him. Like coming home after a long war.

I hated how right it felt.

New York greeted us with honking taxis and cold wind off the Hudson. I rented a cheap motel in Queens-nothing flashy, nothing traceable. Gave the kids baths, ordered pizza, let them crash in front of cartoons.

Then I made the call I'd been dreading.

Blackthorn Tower. Same number I'd memorized and then tried to forget.

He answered on the first ring.

"I'm here," I said.

"Where?"

"Queens. Motel off the LIE. Room 214."

"Stay put."

"Damien-"

"Stay. Put."

He hung up.

Thirty minutes later, a knock. Heavy. Certain.

I opened the door.

He looked the same. Taller, somehow. Darker suit, same storm eyes. But shadows under them. Jaw tighter. Like he hadn't slept in years either.

His gaze raked over me-hungry, furious, relieved. Then past me to the twins asleep on the bed.

He stepped inside without asking. Closed the door. Locked it.

The bond snapped taut, electric. My breath caught.

He didn't touch me. Just stared at the kids like they were miracles he didn't deserve.

"They're beautiful," he whispered.

"They're terrified of strangers," I shot back. "Don't wake them."

He nodded once. Slowly.

Then he looked at me. Really looked.

"You cut your hair."

"Needed a change."

"You look tired."

"So do you."

Another long silence.

"I never stopped looking," he said finally. "For you. For... whatever came after."

I crossed my arms. "You divorced me. Publicly. Let your fiancée suck you off in front of the pack. Don't pretend you cared."

His fists clenched. "Lila was a political move. The bond-"

"Was inconvenient. I remember."

He stepped closer. Close enough I could smell him-sandalwood, smoke, pine. The same scent that still haunted my dreams.

"I was wrong," he said. Low. Rough. "I thought I could control it. The pack. The empire. You. I couldn't."

I laughed softly. "Apology accepted. Now leave."

"Not without them."

"They're not yours to take."

"They're Blackthorns. Heirs. The pack will protect them."

"Like you protected me?"

He flinched. Actually flinched.

Then he reached out-slow, careful-and brushed a strand of hair from my face. The touch burned. The bond roared.

"Come home," he murmured. "Both of you. All three of you."

I slapped his hand away. "I don't have a home with you."

His eyes flashed gold. Alpha gold. "You do. You always did."

Luna stirred then, mumbling in her sleep. Leo's eyes snapped open-glowing faintly.

Damien froze.

Leo sat up, staring at the stranger. Then he growled. Small, but real. Protective.

Damien dropped to one knee. Slow. Non-threatening.

"Hey, little man."

Leo bared tiny teeth.

Damien smiled-small, sad. "Yeah. I get it. I'm the bad guy."

Luna woke fully, saw him, and hid behind me.

I scooped them both up. "They're scared."

"I know." He stood. "I'll go. For now. But tomorrow-pack healer. My place. Noon. Bring them. Or I come here with enforcers."

He turned to leave.

"Damien."

He paused.

"If you hurt them-"

"I won't." His voice cracked. Just once. "I swear on the Moon Goddess. On the bond. On everything I have left."

The door closed behind him.

I held the twins tighter.

The bond hummed. Warm. Insistent.

Welcome home, it said.

I told it to shut up.

But deep down, I wasn't sure I could anymore.

Chapter 3: The Tower and the Ghosts It Keeps

The black Escalade pulled up outside the motel at exactly 11:45 a.m. Tinted windows, no plates visible from the front-classic Blackthorn move. The driver didn't get out. Just popped the back door remotely and waited.

I'd dressed the twins in matching navy sweaters and jeans, the nicest things they owned that weren't stained with spaghetti sauce. Luna had insisted on her sparkly purple sneakers. Leo clutched his truck like a talisman. I wore black leggings, boots, and the oversized gray coat I'd bought secondhand last winter. Nothing flashy. Nothing that screamed "I'm back, bitches."

The ride was silent except for the low hum of the engine and Luna whispering questions she already knew I wouldn't answer.

"Is the big building scary?"

"Only if you let it be."

Leo stared out the window, eyes wide at the skyline creeping closer. Manhattan rose like jagged teeth against the pale March sky.

Blackthorn Tower looked exactly the same. Fifty-two stories of smoked glass and arrogance. The private elevator still required a retinal scan-Damien's eye this time, not mine. He met us in the lobby of the penthouse level, alone. No enforcers. No Lila. Just him in a charcoal sweater and dark jeans, sleeves pushed to his elbows, looking almost... human.

Almost.

He crouched immediately when the doors opened. Eye level with the twins.

"Hey," he said softly. No alpha command. No growl. Just a man trying not to scare two four-year-olds who already sensed the predator in him.

Leo stepped half behind my leg. Luna peeked out, curious.

"I'm Damien," he continued. "Your dad."

Luna tilted her head. "Mama said you're complicated."

Damien's mouth twitched-almost a smile, almost pain. "She's right."

I cleared my throat. "Healer first. Questions later."

He nodded, stood, and led us down the hall. The penthouse hadn't changed much-same marble, same view, same fireplace big enough to burn regrets in. But the air felt heavier now. Like the walls remembered every scream I'd swallowed here.

The healer's name was Mara. Mid-fifties, silver-streaked black hair in a tight bun, eyes the color of aged whiskey. She smelled like sage and old books. Pack healer for three generations of Blackthorns. She'd stitched me up once after a "training accident" when Damien was teaching me basic self-defense. Back when he still pretended to care.

She took one look at the twins and her expression softened.

"Moon-blessed," she murmured. "Strong lineage. Come here, little ones."

She guided them to a low couch near the windows. No sterile exam table-smart. Kids hate those. She let them touch her pendant first, a crescent moon carved from moonstone. Luna traced it with one finger. Leo sniffed it like a puppy.

While she worked-gentle hands checking pulses, listening to hearts that beat too fast for human children-I stood by the floor-to-ceiling glass, arms crossed, watching Damien watch them.

He hadn't taken his eyes off them since we arrived.

"They shift at night?" Mara asked me.

"Sometimes. Claws first. Then eyes. Leo growled at a neighbor's dog last month. Full teeth."

Mara nodded. "Early manifestation. Rare, but not unheard of with fated blood. The bond between you two is unusually strong-even severed on paper, it never truly broke. They're feeling the echo."

Damien's jaw ticked. "Can you stabilize them?"

"I can teach control. Herbs. Meditation. Moon-phase rituals. But they need pack grounding. A lone wolf-especially pups this young-can tear themselves apart trying to force the change." She looked at me pointedly. "They need the alpha. Both of them."

Meaning Damien. Meaning the pack.

I felt the bond pulse again-hot, insistent, like fingers trailing down my spine. I ignored it.

"How long?" I asked.

"Daily sessions for the first month. Then weekly. They'll need to stay close to the alpha den." Another pointed look. "Here."

Damien exhaled through his nose. "They stay as long as it takes."

"I'm not moving back in," I said flatly.

His eyes cut to me. Gold flickering at the edges. "You already are. The motel is compromised. I had eyes on it the second you checked in."

My stomach twisted. "You were watching me?"

"Protecting you." His voice dropped. "There are factions who know about the twins now. Word travels fast when an alpha sires heirs with a fated mate he rejected."

"Whose fault is that?"

He didn't flinch this time. Just held my gaze. "Mine."

Mara cleared her throat. "I'll start with a grounding circle tonight. Full moon in three days-we'll use that. Until then, no more triggers. No anger, no fear spikes. Keep them calm."

She handed me a small velvet pouch-dried lavender, wolfsbane in minute doses, moonstone chips. "Tea at bedtime. Rub the stone on their foreheads when they wake crying."

I took it. Our fingers brushed. She squeezed once. "You're stronger than you think, Elena. The Goddess doesn't choose lightly."

When she left, the room felt too quiet.

Damien turned to the twins. "You guys hungry?"

Luna nodded shyly. Leo just stared.

"I make a mean grilled cheese," he offered.

I almost laughed. The billionaire mafia alpha offering to make grilled cheese. But the twins perked up at "cheese," so I let it slide.

The kitchen was ridiculous-double islands, professional range, fridge big enough to hide bodies. Damien moved like he'd done this a thousand times. Bread. Butter. Cheddar. He even cut the crusts off Luna's without being asked.

Leo watched every move, suspicious.

Damien slid the plates over. "Dig in."

They ate like starving wolves. I stood against the counter, arms still crossed, refusing to sit.

Damien leaned on the opposite island, watching me more than them.

"You're angry," he said quietly.

"Observant."

"I deserve it."

"You think?"

He rubbed a hand over his jaw. "I thought if I pushed you away hard enough, the bond would fade. That I could protect the pack without dragging you into the blood. Lila's father controlled the ports we needed for weapons shipments. Marrying her was supposed to lock that down."

"And instead you locked me out."

"I thought you'd be safer gone."

I barked a laugh. "Safer? I was alone. Pregnant. Terrified. You let me think I was nothing."

"You were everything." His voice cracked on the last word. "Still are."

The bond flared so hard I gasped. Heat rushed through me-need, fury, longing all at once. My nipples tightened under my sweater. I hated it. Hated him for still having that power.

"Don't," I whispered.

He stepped closer. Slow. Careful.

"I'm not asking forgiveness today," he said. "I'm asking for time. To prove I'm not the same bastard who let you walk out that door."

Luna finished her sandwich, wiped her mouth on her sleeve. "Can we see the big windows again?"

Damien smiled-small, real. "Yeah, sweetheart. Come on."

He scooped her up without thinking. She stiffened for half a second, then relaxed against his shoulder. Leo slid off his stool and followed, truck still in hand.

I trailed behind, heart hammering.

At the windows, Damien pointed out landmarks. Empire State. One World Trade. The river glittering like shattered glass.

Leo pressed his nose to the glass. "High."

"Very," Damien agreed.

Luna touched his cheek suddenly. "Your eyes are like ours."

Damien swallowed hard. "Yeah. They are."

For one heartbeat, the room felt almost peaceful.

Then the elevator dinged.

Footsteps-heels. Sharp. Confident.

Lila Voss stepped into the penthouse like she owned it.

Blonde hair swept into a perfect chignon. Red lipstick. Black sheath dress that probably cost more than my car. Her eyes-ice blue-locked on me first.

Then on Damien holding Luna.

Her smile was a blade. "Well. The prodigal mate returns. And with puppies."

Damien set Luna down gently. Stepped in front of us-subtle, but there.

"Lila. You weren't invited."

"Pack business waits for no invitation, darling." She tilted her head toward me. "Especially when old debts resurface."

I felt the shift in the air. Her wolf rising. Not full aggression-yet. But close.

Leo growled low in his throat.

Lila's gaze snapped to him. Then to Luna. Calculation flickered behind the ice.

"Powerful little things," she purred. "No wonder you're suddenly so domestic."

Damien's voice went lethal. "Leave."

She laughed-light, musical, cruel. "Oh, I will. For now. But the elders are calling a council meeting tomorrow night. They want to see the rejected luna. And the heirs." Her eyes slid to me. "They also want to know why the alpha is still unmated after five years. Why the bond still hums so loudly they can feel it across the city."

She turned on her heel. Paused at the elevator.

"Congratulations on your reunion, Elena. Try not to get thrown away again."

The doors closed.

Silence crashed in.

Damien exhaled slowly. Turned to me.

"I'll handle her."

"You'll handle a lot of things," I said. "Starting with telling me the truth. All of it."

He nodded once.

"Tonight. After they're asleep. Everything."

I looked at the twins-already distracted by the view again, oblivious to the storm brewing.

The bond thrummed between us. Louder now. Hotter.

I hated how much I still wanted to believe him.

But more than that-I hated how much I wanted to stay.