Lucien Cross stood on the rooftop of the building across the street from hers, the city humming around him like a distant dream. Neon lights flickered below. Traffic murmured. But he heard none of it. Saw none of it.
He saw her.
Sera Blake was curled up by her window in an oversized hoodie and sleep shorts, her knees hugged to her chest. The soft glow of her reading lamp framed her delicate features — wide eyes, plush lips, hair messy from tossing restlessly in bed. She looked heartbreakingly innocent. Quiet. Human.
But she wasn't. Not entirely. Not anymore.
Lucien's eyes glowed faintly, a golden shimmer that flared and dimmed as he exhaled, muscles tense beneath his leather jacket. The rooftop wind tousled his black hair, but he barely noticed. His wolf was restless. Obsessed.
He'd told himself he would walk away after the club. Leave her be. She didn't belong in his world. Too pure, too soft. Too vulnerable. But when she turned to leave that night, something primal inside him had snapped — not with rage.
With need.
And now he stood there like a predator stalking his prey, though this wasn't a hunt. This was reverence.
Her scent had hooked him first — something lush and warm, like wild honey and the first rainfall on dry earth. Not just physical. Something older. An imprint. The bond had begun to thread itself between them. Unseen. Unbreakable.
But she didn't know it yet.
And Lucien?
He wasn't ready to tell her.
He couldn't even tell his own pack — not until he was sure she would survive it.
The Claim.
If he marked her before she was strong enough, the bond could consume her. The desire, the transformation… the awakening. It wasn't a fairy tale. It was a fire that could burn her from the inside out. And that thought scared Lucien more than any rival Alpha ever had.
He clenched his fists and stepped back, ready to leave.
Then stopped.
A shift in the air. A different scent.
He sniffed once, then twice. His eyes narrowed.
Another wolf. Male. Young. Not from his pack.
Lucien growled low in his chest. The rooftop beneath his boots vibrated with the force of it. Rage flared through him like a match to gasoline.
The bastard had been close to her. Close enough to brush against her coat. Maybe more.
He clenched his jaw so hard his teeth ached. His claws threatened to burst from his fingertips. He barely reined himself in.
Whoever that wolf was, he had crossed a line.
Lucien's territory didn't stop at city blocks. It extended to the edges of every breath Sera took. She didn't belong to him yet — not officially — but the bond had started, and that was enough to make her untouchable.
And someone had dared.
He stepped back into shadow, breath steadying, forcing the heat in his blood to cool. Now was not the time to go feral. He needed to think. Find the scent trail. Track it. Learn who was watching her.
Because this wasn't random.
Someone had found her too soon.
And if Lucien knew anything about rival packs, about the kind of dirty tactics Alphas used to weaken each other's power—then Sera was now a target.
He had to move.
But not before giving her something
He reached into his coat and pulled out a thin black card, matte finish, no writing except the silver wolf emblem that shimmered like moonlight. He whispered a single word over it — a mark of old blood and power — then tucked it in a small envelope.
Ten minutes later, he was gone. And the envelope was inside her mailbox.
No name. No explanation.
Just a card and a choice.
If she called the number on it, she would step into his world willingly.
And if she didn't?
He would come for her anyway.
Because the bond didn't care about timing or logic or fear. It only cared about one thing.
Claiming.