NIA

A week.That’s how long it’s been since the night everything went wrong and somehow even more right.

Seven days since I was supposed to kill Knight Golden, and instead found myself living in his penthouse, drinking his coffee, wearing his spare shirts, and pretending the bond humming between us doesn’t exist.

Physically, I’ve healed. My ribs don’t ache, my cuts have faded, and I can hold a blade again without flinching. Emotionally? That’s another story.

The penthouse feels too large. I was built for shadows, for silence but now I can hear him everywhere. His laugh. His voice through the comms.

Fate didn’t just twist the knife. It buried it in deep and left me to deal with the bleeding.

Knight has rules now. “While you’re here, you train, you eat, and you don’t try to stab me before noon.”

I told him two of those were negotiable.

Every morning starts in his private gym—a sleek space with mirrored walls and a scent that’s purely him: cedar, steel, and wolf. I spar with drones, run drills until sweat soaks through my tank top, and pretend I don’t know he’s watching from the corner of the room.

“You move better when you’re angry,” he calls one morning.

I don’t turn. “You talk too much for someone who claims to like silence.”

He laughs. “It’s the company that inspires me.”

I throw a dagger at the wall near his head. It lands an inch from his ear.

His grin only widens.

By the end of each session, I’m more exhausted from ignoring him than from the training itself.

Afternoons are worse. That’s when we work together—two wolves picking through encrypted data on the mercenaries who attacked us. He’s sharp, annoyingly focused, and somehow always right.

When I find something, he leans in close, his scent overwhelming. My heartbeat betrays me every time.

It’s getting stronger. The bond.

I know when he’s near. I can sense his mood before he even speaks. Once, I woke up in the middle of the night gasping—because somewhere in the building, he was bleeding.

I found him in the gym, knuckles raw from punching the training bag.

“You’re not supposed to be up,” he said, breath ragged.

“You’re not supposed to bleed,” I shot back.

We stared at each other too long. I turned before my wolf could betray me further.

Since then, I’ve stopped pretending the connection isn’t there. I just refuse to acknowledge it.

This morning, he challenged me. “You’re healed enough. Time for a rematch.”

Training blades. No killing blows. But the tension? Fatal.

We circle each other on the mat. His eyes gleam with mischief; mine, with warning.

“Don’t go easy on me,” he says.

“I wasn’t planning to.”

The first clash of steel echoes through the room. It’s muscle memory, instinct, hunger. I feint, spin, strike low. He blocks, counters, grabs my wrist—too close. Our breath tangles in the space between.

“Still deadly,” he murmurs.

“Still alive,” I reply, sweeping his leg out from under him. He hits the mat with a grunt, then laughs.

The sound cracks something inside me. I can’t remember the last time someone laughed like that around me—like I wasn’t a weapon.

He looks up, golden eyes catching mine. For a heartbeat, the world narrows to that space between us.

Then his comm buzzes. The moment shatters.

He sighs, rolling to his feet. “Saved by the bell.”

“Saved from what?” I ask, voice too low.

He gives me a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “From myself.”

That night, we finally make progress.

The encrypted payments that funded my contract traced to a holding company under one of Knight’s subsidiaries. Someone inside his empire paid for my blade.

“Someone close,” he mutters, pacing the office. “Someone who knows my patterns. My weaknesses.”

I swallow hard. “They knew mine too.”

He glances at me. “You think your handler was working with them?”

I nod once. “Or for them. I was just the cleanup.”

His jaw tightens. “We’ll find them.”

I should feel relief. Instead, I feel… uncertain. Because once we do, once this is over, I’ll have no reason to stay.

He must sense it. He always does.

“You keep looking at the door,” he says quietly. “Like it’s calling you.”

“Maybe it is.”

“Maybe it’s not the only thing that’s calling.”

I hate how easily he can do that—strip down my defenses with a few words.

I can’t sleep again. Too many memories, too many questions. I end up on the balcony, the city lights bleeding into the clouds.

Knight’s already there, leaning against the railing, a glass of amber liquid in his hand.

“Can’t sleep?” he asks without looking at me.

“Never could,” I answer, joining him. The air is sharp and cold; I welcome it.

He hands me the glass. “Drink. It’ll help.”

I take a sip—burns like fire, tastes like truth.

For a while, we just stand there in silence. Then he says, “You ever wonder what we’d be if we’d met differently?”

“Alive, maybe,” I say dryly.

He chuckles. “You’re impossible.”

“You hired me to kill you. You should’ve read the fine print.”

His smile fades. “I didn’t hire you, Nia. Someone did that for both of us.”

I stare at the skyline. “Story of my life.”

He turns to me then, his expression softer than I’ve ever seen. “Tell me about it.”

And somehow, I do. About the orphanage. The handlers. The years of blood and silence. How I stopped counting my kills when the number stopped meaning anything.

When I finally stop talking, he says, “You were never meant to be a weapon.”

I laugh once, bitter. “Funny. Everyone else thought I was made for it.”

“Not everyone,” he says, stepping closer.

The bond hums again, low and steady. I can feel his heat, his heartbeat syncing with mine.

He tells me his own story—how he once lost control of his wolf, tore through a rival pack, nearly lost everything. “Power without control destroys,” he says softly. “You and I both learned that.”

We stand there, two broken creatures forged by violence, pretending we’re not finding something whole in each other.

For a second, I forget what side we were ever on.

The city lights blur below us, and I realize the truth I’ve been running from all week: I don’t want to run anymore.

A week ago, I was supposed to end his life.

Now, I can’t decide if he’s the reason I’m still breathing or the reason I can’t breathe at all.

NIA

They say peace never lasts long in a wolf’s world.Turns out, it barely lasted a week in mine. Knight and I had fallen into a rhythm—a dangerous kind of quiet. Training, research, sarcasm, repeat. The edges between us blurred until I wasn’t sure if we were allies, enemies, or something in between.

The night it all burned down again started like any other. He was on a secure call across the room. I sat at his desk surrounded by datapads and paper trails, following encrypted transactions that always ended in digital smoke. We were close to something.

“Anything?” he asked, ending the call and strolling towards me, tie loose, sleeves rolled.

“Just the same dead ends,” I muttered. “Whoever’s behind this knows how to cover their tracks.”

He leaned against the desk, arms folded, that smug little smile playing on his lips. “You should rest.”

“You should stop telling me what to do.”

His eyes gleamed. “But then what would we argue about?”

I opened my mouth to retort but my wolf went rigid.A metallic tang cut through the air.

“Down!” I barked, and launched at him.

The window shattered an instant later.Glass exploded inward in a storm of glittering shards. A masked figure rolled through the breach, blades already drawn. Knight hit the floor under me as the assassin’s dagger embedded in the wall above where his head had been.

“Really?” Knight grunted beneath me. “You could’ve just said ‘incoming.’”

“Shut up and stay down!”

I spun, drawing the blade Knight insisted I keep strapped under the table. The assassin came fast—silver-edged daggers flashing under the city lights.This one was good. Trained. Deadly. But I’d met worse.

We clashed in a blur of movement, blades ringing, sparks biting the air. Knight moved behind me, scanning for an opening. The smell of ozone thickened—his wolf close to the surface.The assassin feinted left. I countered right. He kicked low, but Knight caught his leg mid-swing and twisted. The man hissed, stumbling. I took advantage, driving my knee into his chest and slamming him into the ground.

“Not bad for a CEO,” I said, panting.

Knight grinned. “Not bad for my would-be killer.”

The assassin tried to roll away. Knight’s boot pinned him down.

“You could’ve just scheduled a meeting,” Knight drawled. “I charge less for appointments that don’t involve explosions.”

I scowled. “You joke too much for someone who was almost a corpse.”

“Seems I’m in high demand these days, Silent Blade.” His smirk widened. “Maybe I should start charging.”

“Keep talking and I’ll add hazard pay to your bill.”

The assassin groaned, reaching for a hidden blade. I kicked it out of his hand, the clatter echoing through the ruined room.

Knight crouched beside him, voice turning sharp and cold. “Who sent you?”

Silence.

He pressed a knee into the man’s ribs. “You have three seconds before my partner stops being polite.”

“I was never polite,” I said, crouching beside him. “Talk. Or I’ll make you wish you took the fall.”

The assassin’s eyes darted between us. Sweat beaded at his temple. Finally, he rasped, “There’s… there’s a new bounty. Double. On your head, Alpha.”

Knight’s expression didn’t change, but the air shifted—predatory calm.

“Who placed it?”

“I don’t know. They call him ,the Crow. He runs the network now. No faces. Only contracts.”

Knight’s jaw flexed. “The Crow. Fitting name for a parasite.”

The assassin started trembling. Then, suddenly—he convulsed.

“Knight—”

Too late. His body arched, eyes rolling back. Foaming lips. Poison. A kill switch embedded in his tooth.

He was dead in seconds.

Knight stood, brushing glass off his shirt like the scene was mildly inconvenient. “Well. That’s going to make dinner awkward.”

I exhaled hard, adrenaline burning through my veins. “Do you ever stop making jokes?”

“Only when they stop trying to kill me.”

I glared. “You cope with sarcasm, don’t you?”

“I cope with everything,” he said lightly, but his eyes were dark—angry.

We stared down at the corpse. The Crow. Another player in a game we hadn’t agreed to join.

Knight crouched again, checking the assassin’s neck. “Professional job. Micro-poison capsule. Whoever’s behind this doesn’t like loose ends.”

“That could’ve been me,” I murmured before I could stop the words.

He looked up, something softer flashing in his gaze. “Yeah. But you’re prettier when you’re not trying to kill me.”

I sighed. “You’re impossible.”

“Efficiently so.”

The silence stretched, heavy with the scent of smoke and adrenaline. My heart was still hammering.

Knight reached for a shard of glass, flicked it away, then met my eyes. “You tackled me.”

“You’re welcome for saving your life.”

He smirked. “Didn’t say I wasn’t grateful.”

The bond hummed—alive, electric. My pulse stuttered. His scent was too close, too warm, too him.

I stepped back, needing space that didn’t exist.

He let me go, turning back to the body. “We’re not done, Nia. Whoever The Crow is, he’s escalating. And if they’re doubling the price on me, they won’t stop there.”

“Then we hit back harder.”

Knight looked up, and for once, his grin wasn’t just sarcastic. “There’s the woman I almost died for.”

I shoved him lightly. “Don’t make it sound romantic.”

“Oh, it’s not. It’s purely practical. You’re great cover.”

I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t hide the small, traitorous smile tugging at my lips.

We stood there, shoulder to shoulder, looking out at the shattered skyline beyond the broken window. The city pulsed below, unaware, already resetting for the next round of chaos.

Knight sighed. “Guess we should call for cleanup.”

“Guess you should install bulletproof windows,” I said.

“Where’s the fun in that?”

I shook my head, stepping past him toward the door. “You’re insufferable.”

“Admit it,” he called after me. “You’d miss me if I were dead.”

“Maybe,” I said over my shoulder. “Depends on how quiet life gets.”

His laugh followed me down the hall.Another assassin.Another secret.Another reminder that fate doesn’t just tie bonds—It tightens nooses.

NIA

You know that feeling when life turns upside down faster than you can breathe?That was me now in the bed of the man I was supposed to kill, who’d somehow become my mate.The night’s chaos hadn’t even settled. The smell of blood and smoke still clung to the penthouse. Knight had insisted on cleanup. I’d insisted on pacing until the carpets were nearly worn through.

He was leaning against the balcony door now, arms crossed, eyes tracking me like I was some fascinating creature he couldn’t quite decide whether to tame or tease.

“You really know how to ruin a quiet night, Reyes,” he said finally, voice smooth enough to scrape my nerves raw.

“You were the one they came for,” I shot back. “I was just collateral damage.”

“Semantics,” he said, smirking. “We make quite the team, don’t we? You dive at me. I nearly die. We bond. It’s practically romantic.”

“Romantic?” I scoffed. “You’ve got a weird definition of that word.”

“Occupational hazard,” he said. But there was something underneath the teasing, a faint tremor in his tone. His wolf was close to the surface—I could feel it humming against mine. The room felt smaller, air heavier. My wolf pressed at my control. I turned away, needing distance. The last thing I wanted was for him to see how rattled I was. But Knight never could let me walk away easily.

“You’re bleeding,” he said softly.

“It’s nothing.”

He stepped closer. “You were hit with glass. Let me—”

“Don’t,” I said, but the word came out weaker than I meant.

He was already near enough for me to catch his scent. My pulse stuttered. My wolf surged, pressing hard against the walls I’d built around her.

“Knight,” I warned.

He tilted his head, eyes gleaming gold under the dim lights. “You keep saying my name like that and I’ll start thinking you actually care.”

“I’m thinking of ways to strangle you.”

He chuckled, low and dangerous. “See? Progress.”

The air between us snapped tight. I could feel it—the pull, the inevitability. I hated how my heartbeat synced to his, how my body recognized him before my mind would. I turned sharply toward the hallway, needing to get out before I did something stupid. His hand caught my wrist—gentle but firm.

“Nia, wait,” he said. “You don’t get to shut me out.”

The contact sent fire racing up my arm. The bond flared. I felt everything at once—his pulse, his warmth, his restraint. The line between enemy and mate extremely thin now .

“Let go,” I breathed, but I didn’t mean it.

He didn’t. His fingers tightened, not possessive, just steady. “Tell me you don’t feel this.”

I opened my mouth to lie, to throw another wall of sarcasm between us—but the words died. His eyes were gold and molten, his scent flooding my senses until thought became useless.And then it happened.

One breath.

One heartbeat.

Instinct took over.

I didn’t know who moved first. One second there was space between us, and the next I was in his arms, his mouth on mine, the world reduced to heat and heartbeat.

The kiss wasn’t gentle. It was chaos—every bottled-up emotion, every denial, every hidden truth erupting all at once. His hands gripped my waist; mine fisted in his shirt. The mate bond roared like a storm.It wasn’t love. Not yet. It was need. Claim. Fate dragging us both by the throat.

For a moment, the world stopped. The city, the blood, the Crow—all of it faded. There was only him. Then I shoved him back, breathing hard, my lips tingling, my heart pounding out of control.

“That—” I gasped. “—wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Knight’s grin was slow and infuriating. “You say that like you didn’t start it.”

I glared, heat rushing to my face. “You wanted it to happen.”

He tilted his head. “Maybe. But so did you.”

I hated that he was right. I hated how my pulse still skipped, how my wolf purred instead of retreating.

“Don’t read into it,” I said sharply. “That was instinct, nothing more.”

“Instinct,” he echoed, taking a slow step toward me. “Interesting excuse. Should I be offended or flattered?”

I backed up until I hit the wall. “You should shut up before I remember why I tried to kill you.”

He laughed, low and rough. “There she is. My Silent Blade.”

The words made something in my chest twist. He shouldn’t be able to say it like that—like it meant something tender, not deadly.

Silence stretched between us. The tension didn’t break; it shifted.

I grabbed my jacket from the chair, desperate for an exit.

“Nia,” he said, quieter this time. “You can run all you want, but the bond doesn’t care.”

I froze halfway to the door. His voice wasn’t mocking anymore. It was honest. And that scared me more than any assassin ever could.

I didn’t turn back. “I didn’t ask for this,” I said. “Fate doesn’t need my permission.”

And I walked out, the taste of him still on my lips, my pulse refusing to calm.

The elevator doors closed behind me, sealing in the silence I needed to breathe again. But when I stepped out onto the rooftop, the night hit like a wave—cold wind, city lights, the smell of rain.

I leaned against the railing, staring at the skyline.

I told myself it was just instinct. That it didn’t mean anything. But my wolf didn’t believe me.

The kiss had changed everything.And nothing. Now, every breath felt borrowed.

Knight would joke about it tomorrow, I knew.He’d smirk and pretend it was nothing. And I’d pretend I didn’t care.

But deep down, I knew the truth.I could kill him a thousand times in my head and still, the bond would bring me back to him.