The storm outside hadn't let up all night.
Maya sat curled on the edge of her bed, knees hugged to her chest, listening to the steady lash of rain against the glass walls. The city looked drowned, neon lights bleeding through the downpour like watercolor streaks. She should have been sleeping—her body ached from the so-called "training" Damon had put her through—but her mind wouldn't rest.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw him. Not Damon the arrogant businessman, not Damon the cruel Alpha who commanded a room like it was built for him. No, she saw the silver wolf, massive and untamed, blood dripping from his muzzle as his eyes locked on hers.
And worse… she remembered how it had felt to touch him. How something inside her had answered.
A knock broke the silence.
Maya jerked upright, heart racing. "Who is it?"
"It's me." Damon's voice, low and unbothered, seeped through the door.
She hesitated. "What do you want?"
There was a pause. "You're not sleeping. I can hear your heartbeat from the hall."
Her mouth went dry. Creepy, wolf super-hearing. Of course. "That's not exactly an invitation."
Another pause. Then the faintest hint of amusement in his tone. "I'll take my chances."
The door opened before she could argue. Damon stepped inside, a shadow among shadows, his shirt unbuttoned at the collar, damp from the rain. He carried a leather-bound book in one hand, the kind that looked centuries old.
Maya crossed her arms. "You just walk into people's rooms in the middle of the night? Boundaries, Damon."
He ignored the jab, setting the book on her desk. "If you're going to survive in this world, you need to know the truth. About me. About why we're bound."
The air thickened. Maya's stomach tightened. "So you finally decided to admit this contract marriage isn't just about hospital bills and keeping up appearances?"
His silver eyes flicked to hers. For once, there was no mocking glint, no teasing cruelty. Just something raw. Tired.
"This," he said, opening the book to a page filled with strange symbols and inked sketches of wolves, "is the prophecy the council guards. It's older than any of them. Older than me."
Maya rose slowly, drawn despite herself. The parchment smelled of dust and iron, the words written in a language she couldn't read. But the pictures…
One showed a wolf split down the middle—half silver, half shadow. Another, a figure crowned in flame, a child held in their arms.
Her pulse stumbled. "What does it mean?"
Damon's jaw tightened. "It means I was born cursed. My wolf is not whole—he is two halves at war. If I fail to keep balance, if the shadow side wins, I'll destroy everything I touch."
Maya's breath caught. Suddenly, the way he fought, the way he controlled every movement, every word, every glance—it wasn't arrogance. It was survival.
"And me?" she asked softly. "Where do I fit in?"
His gaze found hers, unflinching. "The prophecy says only a bond can tether me. A wife bound under oath, under law, under… blood."
Maya's throat went dry. "So I'm your… tether."
"Yes."
The word landed like a stone. No hesitation. No apology.
Anger flared hot in her chest, covering the shiver that ran through her. "So that's why you married me. Not because you cared, not because you had no choice—because I'm some kind of leash?"
He stepped closer, his voice low, almost dangerous. "Careful, Maya. If you think I'd tie myself to someone just because it was convenient, you don't understand me at all."
Her hands trembled. "Then why me? Why not one of your precious wolves? Someone who actually knows your world?"
Something flickered in his eyes—something sharp, vulnerable, gone almost before she saw it. "Because none of them could hold me."
The words stopped her breath. The storm outside roared louder, wind rattling the glass. For a long moment, neither of them moved.
Maya swallowed, her anger tangled with something far more dangerous. "You expect me to just accept this? That my entire life is some… prophecy footnote?"
"No," Damon said quietly. "I expect you to fight me every step of the way. It's what keeps me sane."
He closed the book, sliding it back toward her. "But now you know. The bond isn't just pretend. It's the only thing standing between me and the monster under my skin."
Maya stared at him, her heart a storm. She wanted to hate him, wanted to scream—but all she could see was the truth in his eyes, the shadow that haunted every word he said.
And worse, the way her soul answered it.
The next day, the tension between them simmered like a live wire. Damon was distant, throwing himself into calls, meetings, arguments with unseen voices over encrypted lines. Maya wandered the penthouse, the book never leaving her hands.
She couldn't read the prophecy's language, but she traced the drawings over and over. The split wolf. The crowned child. The bond written in fire.
Questions spun in her head. Was she doomed to be a tether forever? Was this bond permanent, or could she walk away once Damon no longer needed her?
At one point, she found herself staring at Damon across the room, at the rigid set of his shoulders, the way his hand flexed into a fist when he thought no one was looking.
He caught her watching. Their eyes held.
For one heartbeat, Maya thought he might say something. Something real.
But then his phone rang, and he turned away.
That night, Maya dreamed of wolves.
Silver fur tangled with shadow, teeth snapping at her throat, a firelit crown pressing down on her head. And somewhere in the dark, a child's cry cut through it all, shattering her from sleep with her heart in her mouth.
She woke drenched in sweat, the storm outside finally breaking into silence. The book lay open beside her, the sketch of the crowned figure illuminated by the moon.
And she knew—whatever Damon wasn't telling her, this was only the beginning.