The luxurious suite at the top floor of the Blackmoon skyscraper reeked of sex and sweat. The crumpled silk sheets, tossed clothes, and lingering scent of perfume told the story of what had just transpired.
Alpha Xander Kane stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, shirtless, his sculpted torso bathed in the soft glow of moonlight. The city lay beneath him—silent, unaware of the chaos that brewed inside his soul.
Behind him, the blonde Omega was still lying on the bed, tangled in sheets she had no right to touch. Her eyes—soft and hopeful—watched him like he was some fairytale prince who might fall in love if she just played innocent enough.
"Xander…" she whispered, inching toward him with false shyness. "Do you want me to stay the night? I could—"
"Leave," he said coldly, not bothering to turn around.
She blinked, lips parting in disbelief. "But I thought—"
"I said, leave."
His voice held no warmth. No affection. Just an edge sharp enough to cut through steel.
The Omega hesitated, then gathered her clothes with shaking hands, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment and fury. But when she made the mistake of meeting his eyes—those emotionless, obsidian irises—she flinched as though slapped.
One glare from Alpha Xander Kane was all it took. She ran out the door without another word.
Xander exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. These women always thought they could be the one to change him. So naïve.
He didn't do attachments. He didn't do emotions. And most importantly—he didn't do love.
As he reached for a fresh shirt from his walk-in closet, a firm knock sounded on the door.
"Enter," he said flatly.
The door creaked open and his Beta, Lucas Maddox, stepped in, dressed in a tailored black suit. Ever the professional. His face was unreadable, but the tension in his shoulders gave away the urgency of his visit.
"You have exactly three seconds to explain why you're barging into my room at—" Xander glanced at the digital clock. "—two in the damn morning."
Lucas didn't flinch. "I wouldn't if it weren't important."
Xander pulled on his shirt and arched a brow. "This better be worth it."
Lucas took a step closer, holding out a black folder with a silver seal. "We've got a problem on the east border of the territory. Rogues again. But this time… it's different."
"Different how?"
"They weren't just attacking. They were looking for someone."
Xander narrowed his eyes. "Who?"
"A girl," Lucas said. "A rogue, possibly hybrid. From the scent left behind, she was injured. But that's not the interesting part."
Xander said nothing, waiting.
Lucas hesitated before continuing, "She attacked two of our guards. They're alive, barely. Said she was fast. Deadly. Smelled like a mutt but fought like a warrior."
"A rogue girl who injured my men?" Xander scoffed. "Sounds like she's either suicidal or stupid."
"She escaped before we could catch her."
Xander's jaw tightened. "Find her."
Lucas nodded. "Already tracking her. But there's more."
"Speak."
"There's talk that she's from the Shadow District. Street girl. One of those working girls."
Xander tilted his head slightly, his interest piqued.
"A prostitute rogue who can fight like that?" He chuckled darkly. "Now that's new."
Lucas frowned. "Rumor is she's been hiding for years. Off-grid. No pack. No affiliation. Just survival. But she's... different. The rogues were after her specifically. Which means someone wants her. Badly."
Xander turned back toward the window, watching the dark city below.
"Then she must be useful," he murmured. "Or dangerous."
"She's both, I think."
Xander's eyes gleamed. "Then bring her to me."
Lucas hesitated. "You want her captured?"
"No," Xander said slowly. "I want to see her myself. She had the audacity to attack my warriors. I want to know what makes her special."
"And if she resists?"
Xander's lips curved into a cold smirk. "Then break her."
Lucas gave a short nod and left the room, closing the door behind him.
Silence settled again, heavy and still.
But Xander's mind was far from quiet. A rogue girl with a fighter's spirit? That was unusual. Intriguing. Most rogues were either feral or cowards. This one… if she had the attention of rival rogues, she was more than just a lost soul.
And if she had the guts to take on his men?
She wasn't weak.
Xander sat on the edge of the bed, running a hand through his dark, tousled hair. His wolf stirred beneath his skin—alert, curious. A rare feeling.
He hadn't felt this kind of anticipation in years.
Women threw themselves at him. He could have any she-wolf in the kingdom with a snap of his fingers. But this one wasn't presenting herself. She was hiding. Running. Fighting.
Challenging.
His kind of chaos.
He pulled out his phone and tapped into the security feed, pulling up the footage from the east district gates.
There—blurry, fast, but unmistakable—a small figure darted past the camera. Hooded. Bleeding. Eyes flashing with a mix of terror and rage. She was limping, yet still fast enough to evade capture.
Xander froze the frame, zooming in on her face.
Even through the grainy pixels, he could see the fire in her eyes.
Not just a rogue. Not just a fighter.
A survivor.
And for some reason, that set his blood humming.
"You can run, little mutt," Xander murmured to the screen, his voice low and dangerous. "But once I find you… you're mine."