The city lights glittered like shattered diamonds as Evelyn stood on the penthouse balcony, her silk nightgown whipping in the cold midnight wind. Behind her, the sound of a door unlocking shattered the quiet. Her pulse quickened.
Damien Wolfe had returned.
She didn't turn immediately—she didn't dare. But she felt him. That presence. Dark, commanding, dangerous. The air seemed to bend around him, pulling her into his gravity.
"I thought you were in Shanghai," she said, her voice cool, steady. A lie. She wasn't steady. Not when her heart hammered like a trapped bird.
Damien's voice, deep and edged with steel, slid through the silence. "The deal closed earlier than expected. And I don't like surprises."
His footsteps were slow, deliberate, each one echoing like a verdict on the marble floor. When he reached her, his reflection glinted on the glass before her eyes—tall, sharp, a man carved from shadows and power.
"Then you must hate me," she murmured, her lips curling in defiance, "because I'm a walking surprise."
He didn't smile. He never smiled. Instead, his hand came up, brushing the edge of her hair—a touch so unexpected that it sent a shiver racing down her spine. "You think you're clever, Evelyn," he said, his breath hot against her ear. "But tell me… why are you trembling?"
She turned then, meeting those gray eyes that could strip a soul bare. And for a moment, she hated herself for noticing how beautiful he was. How lethal.
"Because you keep secrets," she whispered. "And secrets kill."
A flicker of something passed through his eyes—regret? No. Damien Wolfe didn't regret. But before she could read more, a sharp pain tore across her palm. She gasped, looking down. The contract ring—cold platinum—had cut her skin. Blood welled, crimson under the moonlight.
And then it happened.
The runes.
Glowing, golden, swirling like living fire beneath her skin.
Damien's jaw tightened. His hand shot out, gripping her wrist as if to contain the light. But the glow only spread—up her arm, across her collarbone. Symbols of an ancient language she shouldn't know burned into existence.
"Damien," she breathed, horror and awe tangling in her voice. "What… what is this?"
He didn't answer. Not with words. His eyes were molten steel, and for the first time since she met him, Damien Wolfe looked afraid.
The wind roared. The balcony doors slammed shut on their own.
And somewhere, deep in the penthouse walls, a whisper slithered—a voice like silk and venom.
The curse is awake.
---
Damien dragged her back inside, locking the balcony doors with a sharp twist. "Don't touch anything," he ordered, his voice like a whip.
Evelyn wrenched her arm free. "Don't tell me what to do! What the hell is happening to me?"
His jaw flexed. "You signed the contract."
"It was a marriage contract, not… this!"
"You think this is about business?" He stepped closer, his anger burning, his body radiating heat. "You walked into a war you don't understand."
Her laugh was bitter, breaking. "Then make me understand!"
The air between them pulsed with something raw, something more dangerous than any curse. His breath mingled with hers, their lips a whisper apart.
"You want the truth?" His voice dropped, deep and rough. "The night you signed that contract, Evelyn, you bound yourself to me. Not just in law. In blood."
Her chest heaved. "What does that mean?"
"It means," he said, each word carved from darkness, "if you die, I die. And if you betray me…" His fingers brushed the glowing runes at her throat. "…we both burn."
Before she could speak, the penthouse lights flickered. Then died.
Darkness swallowed them whole.
And in that darkness… something moved.
The darkness was alive.
Evelyn's breath caught in her throat as the city lights beyond the glass dimmed into nothing but shadows. Only the faint golden glow of the runes on her skin lit the room—and Damien's sharp, wolf-like eyes, glinting silver in the dark.
Something was here with them.
Something not human.
"Stay behind me," Damien commanded, his tone like iron. He moved with fluid grace, his hand sliding into his jacket—and when it came out, it held a gun unlike any she'd seen. Black steel etched with the same ancient markings now burning on her skin.
"Damien…" Her voice was barely a whisper. "What's happening?"
"No questions. Not now." He flicked off the safety, his gaze scanning the shadows like a predator.
And then she heard it—the whisper. Low, melodic, like silk tearing in the dark.
Evelyn…
Her blood turned to ice. "Did you hear that?" she choked.
"Yes." His jaw tightened. "It's not here for me. It's here for you."
Before she could speak, a gust of freezing wind swept through the penthouse, sending papers flying, curtains snapping like angry whips. From the darkness, a figure began to form—tall, hooded, its body a shifting mass of shadows. Two crimson eyes burned like twin embers.
The voice came again, louder, clearer.
The blood of the curse… at last.
Evelyn staggered back. "What… what is that?"
"A shadow wraith," Damien growled, his voice steady but cold with fury. "Sent by them."
"Them? Who the hell is them?!"
He didn't answer. The wraith lunged.
Damien moved like lightning, firing two shots—the bullets glowing silver-blue as they ripped through the darkness. The creature screamed, a sound that clawed at Evelyn's skull like nails. She clapped her hands over her ears, the runes on her skin blazing brighter.
And then it happened.
The wraith dissolved into smoke… and poured straight into her body.
"No!" Damien roared, surging forward. His arms locked around her as her body convulsed, her back arching violently. She screamed, the sound raw, tearing from her throat. The runes burned white-hot now, spreading across her chest, her arms, her legs—branding her like molten fire.
"Evelyn! Fight it!" Damien's voice cracked, but his grip was unyielding. "Look at me! Look at me!"
Through the pain, through the storm in her veins, she forced her eyes open.
And saw him.
Not the ruthless billionaire. Not the man who ruined her family. But something else. Something older. His eyes blazed like molten silver, his veins glowing faintly as if the same curse lived in him.
"You…" Her lips barely moved. "You're not human either."
His jaw clenched. "Never said I was."
With a violent surge, he pressed his palm over her heart—and the runes flared so brightly that the entire penthouse exploded in light.
The shadow ripped free from her body with a scream that shattered the glass balcony doors. It scattered like smoke in the wind, leaving silence in its wake.
Evelyn collapsed against him, trembling, sweat slick on her skin. Damien's arm stayed around her, iron-strong, as he pressed his forehead against hers.
"You almost died," he rasped. His breath was ragged. His voice—shaken. "Don't ever do that again."
Her laugh was broken, breathless. "You think I planned it?"
He didn't smile. His thumb brushed the tears from her cheeks, and for a moment—just a moment—the mask cracked. The predator, the billionaire, the curse-bearer… vanished. And only the man remained.
"I told you," he whispered. "If you die, I die."
Her chest heaved. "So what now? I can't live like this, Damien. I can't keep pretending this is just a contract."
His eyes darkened, stormy and molten all at once. "It was never just a contract."
Before she could respond, he kissed her.
Hard.
It wasn't gentle this time. It was fire and fury, desperation and damnation all tangled together. She tasted his hunger, his anger, his fear. His need. And God help her—she kissed him back, clutching at his shirt like he was the only thing anchoring her to this world.
When they broke apart, they were both breathing like they'd survived a war.
Because they had.
Outside, the blood moon hung heavy over the city.
And far away, in a chamber lined with obsidian walls and golden runes, a man watched through a mirror carved from bone.
His lips curved in a smile that promised ruin.
The curse is awake, he whispered. And so is she.