The night air hit her like a whip.
Sena bolted from the back of the pack house, lungs burning, bare feet slamming against the dirt path that cut into the trees. Shouts rose behind her but blurred, drowned in the wild drum of her pulse.
She didn't look back.
Her thin slip snapped against her thighs, tangling over her knees. She yanked it higher, not caring if it tore. Dark waves of hair streamed across her face, mingling with the salty taste of her own breath.
Air. Distance. Freedom.
Then the scent hit her—hers. Sharp, alive, rising off her skin like smoke after a storm.
Warm amber. Wild honey. Rain on earth.
She'd never noticed it before. Not like this. Not so undeniable. It clung to her, trailing behind like a beacon no predator could resist.
The trees swallowed her. Shadows stretched. Moonlight cut silver across the canopy.
And then—she froze.
A figure stepped from the treeline. Massive. Unmoving. Heat rolled off him in waves that made her pulse spike.
Not Kael. Not Rian. Not Thorne. Not Loran.
Someone else.
Her wolf screamed, wild and frantic.
He moved before she could blink. A blur—arms locking around her, one around her waist, the other seizing her wrist—slamming her against the rough bark of a tree.
Heat burned through her slip, scorching her skin.
"Running from us, little wolf?" His voice was low, a growl vibrating through her chest.
Her pulse stuttered. "Let me go."
He leaned close, inhaling sharply. Her neck grazed his jaw as he drew in her scent.
"Gods..." His voice broke against her skin. "You smell like fire after rain."
Her knees threatened to give out.
The bond struck—wild, violent, consuming. His scent—cedar, smoke, steel—wrapped around hers, binding, marking. She couldn't tell where she ended and he began.
"No." His lips brushed her throat, the word both warning and claim.
Her mind screamed to fight. Her body betrayed her.
Then his mouth crashed onto hers.
It wasn't soft. It wasn't careful. It was a claiming—raw, devouring, a firestorm tearing through her veins. Her breath caught, heart racing, mind blank.
She clawed at him—meant to push, meant to fight—yet her hands fisted his shirt, dragging him closer.
A raw, needy sound broke from her throat.
He growled, low and primal, deepening the kiss. Tongue demanding. Coaxing. Taking.
Her wolf purred, trembling through her chest.
Wrong. Forbidden. Dangerous.
And still, she clung to him like her body had always known.
Her first kiss. And already, she knew: nothing would ever be the same.
When he finally broke away, breaths ragged, his forehead pressed to hers.
"Mine," he whispered. Rough. Certain. Commanding.
Her heart stuttered.
"N-no..." Her lips still tingled, trembling with need.
His thumb brushed over her mouth, lingering on the spot he had claimed. "You can run. You can fight. But your body already knows the truth."
Her chest heaved—shame, desire, thrill tangled together.
Then the leaves rustled. Shadows shifted.
Four figures emerged from the trees.
Kael. Silver-eyed, predatory.
Rian. Restless, smirk sharp.
Loran. Broad-shouldered, commanding.
Thorne. Silent, lethal.
Sena's lungs seized. She hadn't escaped. She'd run straight into their arms.
But none of them—none—were the one who had grabbed her first.
The eldest. The myth. The Alpha no one dared speak of. Deacon. The shadow that haunted pack legends. He loomed over her, amber eyes burning, hand still gripping her wrist, pressing her against the tree like she already belonged to him.
Her mind screamed. Her pulse whispered yes.
"Deacon," Kael said, ice in his voice.
The word cracked the night air—sharp, tense.
Rian stepped forward, eyes flashing. "You took her first."
He didn't flinch. Didn't move.
"She came to me," Deacon's voice was low, reverent, deadly. "She's mine."
"No," Kael hissed, jaw tight. "She belongs to all of us."
Sena's back pressed against the bark. Her chest rose in shallow, frantic pulls. Her lips still burned from his kiss. Her body trembled in a way her mind couldn't understand.
Five brothers.
One myth.
And her—trapped in the center.
Her heart thundered.
Her body whispered need.
And in that moment, Sena realized: she hadn't been running for freedom.
She had been running straight into fate.