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.

NIA

Avoidance is an art. And after the kiss, I became a master of it. Three days. That’s how long it had been since I’d let instinct take the wheel and lost control with Knight Golden. Three days since his lips had crashed against mine like fate itself had demanded it. Three days since my pulse stopped belonging to just me. Now, I was doing everything in my power to pretend it hadn’t happened.

I trained until my muscles burned. I buried myself in data and mission reports. I left the penthouse before dawn and returned long after midnight. If I crossed paths with Knight, it was by accident and even then, I made sure it was brief, professional, and laced with just enough frost to keep him at arm’s length.

Distance was survival. Every time he got too close, my wolf stirred, restless and wild. I could feel her pacing beneath my skin, snarling at my restraint. But I didn’t care. The more she wanted him, the more I wanted to disappear. I was in the training room when he finally caught me. The metallic rhythm of blades striking against the dummy echoed through the space. Sweat ran down my spine, my focus sharp enough to cut glass.

“I thought you’d wear the floor out by now,” came his voice from the doorway - irritatingly amused.

I didn’t turn. “What do you want, Knight?”

“To see if my assassin had turned into a ghost.”

“Maybe I did.”

He stepped inside, slow and deliberate. The scent of pine and steel drifted toward me, unraveling the little control I had left.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he said simply.

I laughed without humor. “You have a flair for stating the obvious.”

“Comes with the Alpha territory,” he said, walking closer. “Observation. Leadership. Uncanny charm.”

I spun on him, blade flashing just enough to make a point. “Stay where you are.”

He stopped, smirking. “You really think I’d hurt you?”

“No,” I said. “I think you’d talk, and that’s worse.”

He chuckled. “You keep dodging me like that, I’ll start thinking I smell bad.”

“You do,” I lied, turning back to my dummy. “Like arrogance and bad decisions.”

He was quiet for a moment, and I thought he’d finally give up.

“Tell me something,” he said, his tone dropping a notch. “Are you avoiding me because of the bond or because you liked it?”

My knife sank into the dummy’s chest. “You talk too much.”

“Only when I’m right.”

I yanked the blade free, grabbed my towel, and brushed past him. “You don’t know me.”

“Maybe not,” he said softly as I reached the door, “but I know how you looked when you kissed me back.”

That stopped me cold. I didn’t turn around. I couldn’t. If I looked at him now, I might break.

Instead, I left him standing there in the empty training room, surrounded by silence and the faint hum of a bond neither of us could shut off. The days blurred. We still worked together—barely. Every conversation was stripped down to business. Every glance felt like a spark daring me to look too long.

Knight didn’t push again. Not directly. But he was always there —in the corner of my vision, in the sound of his laugh drifting through the hall, in the heat that flared whenever our paths crossed. It was like the bond had a sense of humor. The more I ran, the stronger it pulled.

Even his Beta noticed.

One afternoon, while we went over intel on the Crow’s network, the Beta leaned over and murmured, “You two fight like old lovers.”

Knight’s grin was infuriating. “That’s because she’s still deciding whether to stab me or marry me.”

I didn’t look up from the screen. “Keep dreaming, Golden.”

His voice was a whisper, meant for me alone. “I do.”

I told myself it didn’t mean anything. It couldn’t.

That night, I found myself on the balcony. The city below was a wash of neon and shadow, humming with the kind of life I’d always watched but never joined.

The air was cool against my skin, the sky heavy with stormlight. I told myself I was out there for the silence. The space. The view. Not because his scent lingered in the walls and I needed distance to breathe.

“Thought I’d find you here,” Knight’s voice said behind me.

I stiffened. “You have terrible timing.”

“I have perfect timing.” He came to stand beside me, not too close, but close enough for the bond to hum. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

“I’ve been busy.”

He tilted his head. “Training. Research. Running laps around the city at three in the morning. You call that busy?”

I exhaled through my nose, watching the lights flicker across the skyline. “It’s called focus.”

“It’s called running from something,” he countered.

“Maybe I like running.”

“Maybe you’re scared.”

I turned then, glare sharp enough to cut. “Of what? You?”

He smiled, but it wasn’t the usual teasing grin. It was quieter. “No. Of what you feel when you’re near me.”

The words hit harder than I wanted them to. Because he wasn’t wrong.

“I don’t want this,” I whispered.

“Neither did I,” he said softly. “But fate’s not known for asking permission.”

We stood there in silence, the city’s pulse beneath us, our bond thrumming like a heartbeat that didn’t belong to either of us alone.

He took one step closer—not enough to touch, just enough for his warmth to reach me.

“You know,” he said finally, voice low, steady, certain, “the more you avoid me…” He paused, eyes locked on mine, the gold in them burning. “…the more I believe the bond is growing, Silent Blade.”

I didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Because deep down, I knew he was right.