Sera woke to an empty bed.
The warmth of Lucien's body was still soaked into the sheets, and the air still carried his scent—spiced, primal, intoxicating. She sat up slowly, the silk blanket falling to her waist, revealing skin that still tingled from the night before.
It wasn't just sex. It never was with him.
Something about the way he touched her felt ancient. Like her body already knew his hands. Like her blood recognized his voice.
She slipped from the bed, wrapping herself in one of his dark shirts, the hem brushing her thighs. His scent wrapped around her like a second skin. She padded barefoot into the penthouse's main room.
Lucien stood by the window, shirtless, silhouetted by dawn.
"Couldn't sleep?" she asked softly.
His golden eyes flicked to her, but he didn't smile.
"No. Could you feel it too?"
Sera paused. "The shift in the air?"
He nodded slowly. "We're being hunted."
A cold chill slid down her spine.
Lucien turned, closing the space between them in two slow steps. He cradled her jaw, his thumb brushing her lips.
"I won't let anything happen to you. But I need you to trust me now. Fully."
She looked up at him. "Even if you're still hiding things?"
He hesitated—then pressed his forehead to hers. "Yes. Especially then."
She closed her eyes.
And nodded.
Later That Night – Warehouse District
The scent hit Lucien before the wind changed. The stink of blood, old magic, and jealousy.
Veylor.
Lucien stepped into the half-lit alley, his wolf just beneath his skin.
"You've crossed into my territory," Lucien growled.
A low chuckle echoed from the shadows.
"I came for her," Veylor replied. "She doesn't belong with you."
Lucien stepped forward, shirt still unbuttoned, the moonlight slicing across his chiseled chest.
"She's mine."
"She was never yours. Her lineage runs deeper than you can imagine. Her ancestors were born to protect the true Alpha line."
"And yet she chooses me."
Veylor's eyes glowed red.
"She doesn't know what she's choosing."
The two wolves circled each other—muscles coiled, claws prickling beneath their skin.
Then Veylor dropped the final blow.
"She's remembering, isn't she? The dreams. The visions. She's unlocking her blood."
Lucien didn't answer.
He didn't need to.
Because yes, she was.
And when she did… he feared what she'd see.
Not just about herself.
But about him.
Meanwhile – Back at the Penthouse
Sera stood at the edge of Lucien's study, staring at the thick leather-bound book she'd found hidden in the drawer. She hadn't meant to snoop… but something had called her to it.
Her fingers brushed the aged cover.
Wolves.
A blood moon.
A name written in faded ink.
"S. Blackthorn."
Her mother's last name before she died.
Sera's breath caught in her throat.
What was Lucien hiding?
And why did her family name live in the pages of a book written in a language older than time?