The night air is cool against my skin as Damon leads me onto the balcony, his grip firm yet careful, like he's holding something precious—something that could slip away at any moment. The distant hum of music from the banquet filters through the doors, but out here, it's quieter. More dangerous.
The world outside the Blackthorn Pack's estate stretches endlessly, bathed in silver moonlight. The vast expanse of their land sprawls beneath us—tall pine trees swaying in the wind, rivers snaking through valleys like veins, and beyond that, the city lights blinking in the distance. This is their kingdom. But it won't be forever.
Damon doesn't let go immediately. His thumb brushes against my wrist, a slow, lingering touch, as if testing to see if I'm real. I let him, watching his expression shift—stormy blue eyes flickering with a thousand things he won't say.
His face is unreadable, but his grip betrays something deeper.
Something restless.
Something that wants answers.
I smirk, tilting my head slightly. "You're staring."
"You disappeared for five years," he says, voice lower now, rougher. "You think I wouldn't?"
His tone is measured, but there's something in it, something close to… desperation. A question buried beneath the weight of everything unsaid.
I pull my wrist free, slow and deliberate, stepping closer to the stone railing. The cold seeps through my skin, grounding me. From here, I can see it all—the land where I once stood as nothing but a broken girl, before I became this.
Before I built myself into someone different. Someone untouchable.
"You didn't look for me," I say, turning to face him.
Damon tenses.
"Lilith—"
"Don't lie." My voice is sharp, cutting through the silence like a blade. "You didn't. If you had, maybe you would've found out that I wasn't buried in some unmarked grave."
His jaw clenches. He doesn't deny it.
And he shouldn't—because I remember.
Five Years Ago
The river was black and merciless, swallowing me whole. My lungs burned, desperate for air, for salvation. My hands clawed at the surface, but the current was stronger, dragging me down into the abyss.
Then—warmth. A hand.
Damon.
He pulled me out with impossible strength, dragging me onto the muddy riverbank. My body felt weightless in his grip, like a ragdoll soaked in rain. His breath came fast, chest rising and falling as he hovered over me, hands pressing down to keep me still.
"Breathe, damn it."
Water spilled from my lips as I coughed, my chest convulsing. The moon blurred behind his head, but I could still make out the worry in his eyes. Deep, unrelenting, like a storm that had yet to break.
I stared into them, lost in the way they looked at me—as if I mattered.
I was sixteen, weak, unwanted. And yet—he saved me.
"You're safe," he had whispered.
I wanted to believe him.
But safety was a lie.
The next time my heavy eyelids fluttered open, the world was different.
Artificial white light burned my vision. Too bright. Too cold. The sterile scent of antiseptic filled my lungs. The crisp sheets beneath my fingers were tucked too tightly, constraining, as if meant to hold me in place.
A dull ache pulsed beneath my skin, radiating outward like an echo of something far worse. I tried to move, but my limbs were heavy, my thoughts sluggish. Shadows danced at the edge of my vision, voices murmuring just out of reach.
Then—a presence.
"You're awake."
I turned my head, my gaze locking onto a woman in her mid-thirties. She was human. I knew it before she even spoke—I couldn't smell her wolf. She was a nurse, dressed in crisp white, her smile warm yet distant, like she had given it to a hundred patients before me.
"You were unconscious for two days," she said gently. "A man brought you here, paid the bill, and left before we could ask any questions. Do you have any family we could call?"
He left.
He left.
The words sat in my chest like stones.
I hadn't even gotten the chance to thank him. To ask his name.
He was my mate. I felt the bond the moment we made contact. Yet he left just like that.
Something inside me twisted—not in sadness, but in realization.
I shook my head dryly at the nurse, the motion stiff.
"That's alright," she said, oblivious to the storm brewing inside me. "Give me a moment while I get the doctor to run a few tests."
She turned, footsteps fading as she left the room.
I rolled onto my side, facing the window. Outside, the world continued—people living, breathing, existing—while I lay here, barely clinging on.
Tears slipped down my face, silent and bitter.
I was alone. Utterly alone.
But that didn't mean I was defeated.
No.
I would rise. I would burn.
And I would make them all pay.
Present
The memory fades, dissolving into the night like smoke.
Damon is watching me, his brows furrowed, like he knows exactly what I was thinking. He always had a way of reading me, even when I gave him nothing.
"You were just a girl back then," he says after a pause. "And now…" His gaze drags over me, slow and knowing. "Now, you're something else entirely, aren't you?"
I smile. A sharp, dangerous thing.
"You have no idea."
He leans against the railing beside me, folding his arms. "Try me."
So I do.
"Vermillion Holdings," I say smoothly.
Damon stills.
The muscles in his jaw tighten, his hands flexing against the stone. "What?"
"The conglomerate that's been swallowing up businesses, acquiring assets from the most powerful packs across the continent, dismantling enemies without shedding a drop of blood," I list lazily, watching his expression shift. "Ring a bell?"
His eyes darken.
"You're telling me that you—"
"Own it?" I finish for him, grinning. "Yes."
Damon exhales sharply, looking away for a moment. I know what he's thinking. He's heard of Vermillion Holdings. Everyone has. But only a handful knew who sat at the top of its empire.
Until now.
"Five years," I murmur, tracing a finger along the cool stone. "I didn't waste them."
His gaze snaps back to mine, sharp and assessing. "No. You didn't."
Something about the way he says it makes my pulse quicken, but I don't let it show. Instead, I tilt my head, playing with the moment, watching the way he absorbs the truth of what I've become.
"Are you afraid, Damon?" I ask softly.
His lips twitch, but there's no amusement in his eyes. "Should I be?"
A beat of silence.
Then—footsteps.
Damon's posture shifts instantly, his body going rigid as a figure emerges from the shadows beyond the balcony doors.
Kade.
His presence fills the space with something unspoken—something dangerous.
"Interesting," he muses, stepping forward.
"The girl who wanted nothing to do with me runs straight into the arms of another mate. How predictable."
Damon bristles beside me, muscles tensing. I don't move.
Instead, I take my time, swirling the remnants of champagne in my glass before glancing at Kade.
a slow sip of my champagne, letting the golden liquid glide over my tongue before swallowing. The tension crackles in the air between us, thick and suffocating, but I don't give Kade the satisfaction of a reaction.
"Jealous?" I taunt, arching a brow.
Kade smirks, but there's nothing pleasant about it. His eyes—midnight dark and filled with amusement—trace over me, lingering just a second too long.
"I don't get jealous, Lilith," he says, stepping closer. "But I do get even."
Beside me, Damon shifts, his stance turning rigid. A silent warning.
"Careful, Kade," he says, voice edged with steel.
Kade chuckles, the sound deep and knowing. "Relax, Alpha. I don't need to get my hands dirty."
His eyes find mine again, something almost triumphant flickering in their depths.
"Not when I already have what she wants."
My grip tightens around the delicate stem of my glass.
Kade steps in, so close his breath brushes against my cheek. His voice drops into a whisper, meant only for me.
"The throne."
The moment hangs, stretched taut.
And then—the glass shatters in my hand.