The Return of Lilith Luna Dusk
The Blackthorn Pack's Moon Banquet is the kind of event where secrets are traded like currency, and power drips from every gilded word.
It's where alliances are forged, where enemies smile across crystal glasses filled with hundred-year-old wine, where the weight of reputation is measured in whispers and knowing glances.
And tonight, it's where I return from the dead.
I step through the grand entrance of the Blackthorn Estate, my heels clicking against polished marble, my every move deliberate. The air is thick with the scent of aged whiskey, expensive cigars, and the underlying musk of wolves.
A grand chandelier looms overhead, its thousands of crystals refracting gold and silver light across the vast ballroom. Velvet curtains, heavy and rich, frame the towering windows, and sleek black-and-gold décor accentuates the opulence of the space.
The moment I step in, the shift is palpable.
The world stills.
Gasps ripple through the crowd, whispers slithering like vipers.
"She's back."
"The prophecy girl. Didn't she die?"
"No—she vanished. Five years, and now she walks in like a ghost?"
They should have made sure.
A waiter brushes past, and I pluck a glass from his tray without sparing him a glance. The deep crimson liquid swirls as I bring it to my lips, a slow sip that does little to smother the thrill burning beneath my skin.
I let my gaze sweep the room, searching, waiting—
Then I feel it.
A presence. A pull deep in my bones, in the place where my wolf used to be.
The sealed bond.
My fingers tighten around my glass.
Damon Volkova is here.
The realization sends a shiver down my spine—one I quickly suppress. My lips curl in a slow, knowing smirk.
I haven't even laid eyes on him yet, but I can feel him.
Watching.
Hunting.
My heartbeat remains steady, unfazed, as I turn my attention to the room, pretending not to feel the fire searing through me.
Instead, I mingle.
I move through the ballroom like I own it.
The first man to approach me is Jonathan Crowne, a high-ranking business magnate with a penchant for risky investments and an even riskier temper.
"Lilith Luna Dusk," he muses, swirling the whiskey in his glass. "I'd say it's a pleasure to see you again, but last time, you left quite the mess behind."
I smile. "Business is never clean, Jonathan. You of all people should know that."
He chuckles, but there's an edge to it. "You disappeared. Without a word. Some people don't take kindly to unfinished deals."
"Some people lack patience," I counter smoothly. "And those who waited? Will find their loyalty rewarded."
His gaze sharpens. "Does that mean you're back in the game?"
I take a slow sip of my drink, watching him over the rim. "It means I never left."
His lips part—perhaps to pry, perhaps to threaten—but I'm already moving on.
"Eleanor," I purr as I approach a tall, statuesque woman in emerald green.
Eleanor Voss—heiress to one of the wealthiest real estate firms in the city, a woman whose ambition is as sharp as her stilettos.
She turns, raising a brow. "Lilith Dusk. Back from the dead?"
I tilt my head, feigning curiosity. "Did you miss me?"
She hums, sipping her champagne. "I missed the chaos you bring. Tell me—are you here to reclaim, or to destroy?"
"Why choose one," I say, "when I can do both?"
She laughs, the sound rich and knowing. "Then I look forward to seeing what you do next."
So do I.
But the moment I turn—
I feel it again.
The pull. The bond. The storm brewing behind me.
And when I finally let my eyes find him—
Damon Volkova is standing across the ballroom.
A force. A presence. A storm wrapped in midnight.
My breath hitches—only for a second.
His gaze locks onto mine, like he's seen a ghost.
And I smile.
The last time he saw me, I was drowning.
A girl gasping for breath, reaching for salvation.
But I am not that girl anymore.
I lift my glass to him in a silent show-off.
A game piece moved. A challenge issued.
For a moment, he doesn't move. Then—slowly, deliberately—he begins walking toward me.
The crowd parts for him. They always do.
Damon walks with the kind of aura that demands it, his midnight-black suit sculpted to broad shoulders, his silver cufflinks glinting under the chandeliers.
And those eyes.
Ice and fire.
Locked onto me.
I don't let him have the satisfaction of my full attention.
Instead, I turn—only to collide with a firm chest.
Strong hands steady me. A familiar scent curls around me.
Dark spice and cedar.
Kade.
The first mate bond pulses between us—unwanted, artificial, suffocating.
"The mate who was forced upon me. The one meant to crown me."
His fingers tighten around my arm—not enough to hurt, but enough to claim.
"You're alive," he says, voice low and unreadable.
I tilt my head, feigning amusement. "Disappointed?"
His jaw tightens. "Where the hell have you been?"
I smile. A quick, sharp smirk. "If you wanted me dead, Kade, you should've made sure the first time, no?"
His fingers twitch against my skin. A silent war.
He wants control.
I won't give it to him.
I twist free from his hold—
Just in time to meet Damon's gaze again.
Only now, he's close.
Close enough that I can smell him.
Close enough that I can see the way his throat works, the flicker of something dangerous in his stormy blue eyes.
Something I don't dare name.
I take a breath, steady. Then I arch a brow and let my voice drop to something silk-soft and laced with danger.
"Well," I murmur, "if it isn't my savior."
He laughs.
A low, dark sound that wraps around me like a spell.
I refuse to react.
But he sees.
He always does.
Damon sizes me up, gaze dragging over my form like he's memorizing every inch, obviously taken aback by how much I've changed.
The weak and broken sixteen-year-old he saved five years ago?
She's gone.
And this time—I won't be the one drowning.
Damon's gaze doesn't waver. He studies me like he's trying to reconcile the past with the present, like he can still see the girl he pulled from the abyss five years ago.
But I am not that girl anymore.
And I have no interest in being saved.
A muscle ticks in his jaw as his attention flickers to Kade, whose grip on my arm is tighter than before.
The tension between them crackles like a live wire.
Then—slowly, deliberately—Damon tilts his head, his lips curling into something that is not quite a smile.
"You're holding her like she belongs to you."
Kade's fingers tighten. "That's because she does."
The weight of his claim makes my stomach twist, but I keep my expression smooth.
Damon chuckles, low and dark. "Is that so?"
His voice is a blade, gliding over skin just before the plunge. I love Damon. I've loved him right from the time our eyes met. But I
Love power more. And I would eliminate anything that stands in my way, including him.
Kade straightens, shoulders squared. "She is my mate." His tone is calm, but underneath it—anger, possession, something dangerous simmering just beneath the surface. "So I suggest you step back."
Damon doesn't step back. If anything, he leans in slightly, amusement flickering in his stormy blue eyes.
"And yet," he says, voice smooth as silk, "you're forgetting something, aren't you?"
The smirk on his lips sharpens. "She's my mate too."
The words land like a thunderclap.
A shiver runs down my spine—deep, primal, impossible to suppress.
No.
I buried this bond. I sealed it in blood and silence. I chose to let it rot.
And yet—something inside me stirs.
Something ancient.
Something wild.
Mine.
The whisper of my wolf is faint—barely a breath against my mind—but it's there.
I go still.
Kade notices.
His fingers twitch against my skin, and in an instant, fury darkens his expression.
"You think this is a game, Volkova?" His voice drops into something lethal.
Damon shrugs, utterly unbothered. "I think it's funny."
Kade steps forward, his grip on my arm turning bruising. "Stay away from her."
Damon's smirk doesn't fade. "Or what?"
The challenge hums between them, thick and electric. Kade's wolf is close to the surface—I can feel the rage bleeding into his aura, the possessiveness clawing at his restraint.
He wants a scene.
Wants to stake his claim where the whole damn ballroom can see.
Not tonight.
Not on my terms.
I move swiftly, extracting myself from Kade's grip in one smooth motion. Then, before he can react, I turn to Damon and offer him a slow, knowing smile.
"Come."
A single word, laced with meaning.
Damon raises a brow but doesn't argue.
He falls into step beside me as I lead him toward the grand balcony doors, the hum of the crowd fading behind us.
But before I push them open, I glance back—
Kade stands rigid in place, fists clenched, his chest rising and falling with barely restrained fury.
His gaze burns into me.
Into us.
I let my smirk widen.
Then, without another word, I step outside—leaving Kade seething in rage