Elara woke to the scent of leather, smoke, and something she couldn't place — something wild.
Her eyes fluttered open, and for a moment she thought she was still dreaming.
The room was enormous, dimly lit by the soft golden glow of a city skyline beyond floor-to-ceiling windows. Black marble floors, walls of glass, and a view that stretched for miles. A penthouse — but not the warm, elegant kind from magazines. This place had teeth.
She sat up quickly, heart pounding. Her coat was gone, replaced by a silk robe that clung to her skin. Her shoes lay neatly by the bed, as though someone had undressed her carefully. Too carefully.
The memory hit her — the alley, the men, the violence. The stranger.
Adrian.
The name slid into her thoughts like a blade.
A door opened. She turned — and froze.
He filled the doorway like a shadow given shape, dressed in black from his tailored shirt to the gun holstered at his side. But it wasn't the weapon that made her pulse spike — it was him. The way his golden eyes caught the city light. The way the air shifted when he stepped closer, heavy with power.
"You're awake," he said, voice low, threaded with something dangerous.
Elara's fingers tightened on the bedsheet. "Where am I?"
"My home."
"I didn't ask to be brought here."
He smirked faintly. "You were about to be killed. You're welcome."
She hated that he was right. Hated that part of her was… grateful. "Who are you?"
Adrian crossed the room with slow, deliberate steps, like a predator giving prey the illusion of safety. "Adrian Voss."
The name meant nothing to her — but the way he said it, the way he carried himself, told her it meant everything to someone.
"You run with those gangs?" she asked.
His lips curved into something colder than a smile. "I run them."
Her stomach tightened. "So you're… mafia."
"Something like that." His gaze swept over her, lingering just long enough to make her skin burn. "And you? What's a woman like you doing alone in my city at night?"
"It's not your city," she shot back, surprising herself with the bite in her voice.
A low sound came from his chest — not laughter, but close. "Everything in this city is mine, Elara. I just haven't decided yet if you are."
She opened her mouth to argue, but the weight of his stare silenced her. There was something unnatural about him — too sharp, too fast, too aware. And those eyes… no man should have eyes like that.
Her father's voice — distant, buried deep in childhood memory — flickered in her mind: Stay hidden, Elara. Never let them see what you are.
She shook it away. That was nonsense. She was ordinary. She had to be.
"You should let me go," she said quietly.
He stepped closer, the air between them crackling. "I should. But I won't."
"Why?"
His voice dropped, a growl beneath the words. "Because from the moment I saw you, my wolf hasn't stopped clawing to get to you."
She blinked. "Your… what?"
Adrian didn't answer. Instead, he turned away, pouring amber liquid into a crystal glass at the bar. "You'll stay here tonight. You're not safe out there."
"I'm not safe here," she muttered.
He glanced over his shoulder, eyes glinting. "If I wanted to hurt you, Elara, you wouldn't be breathing."
Her heart skipped. She didn't know if it was fear or something far more dangerous that made her breath catch.
Outside, lightning cracked across the sky, illuminating the city like a battlefield. Elara wrapped her arms around herself, trying to make sense of the man — and the way he made her feel like the world she knew was already slipping away.
Adrian watched her in silence, his wolf restless beneath his skin. He didn't know what she was — not yet — but every instinct screamed that she wasn't just human. And whatever she was, he would keep her.
Even if it meant starting a war.