Chapter 1
The clock struck midnight.
Liana froze as a sharp tap echoed from her doorstep. She hadn't ordered anything; no one should be here. Her heart pounded as she opened the door just enough to see.
An envelope. It was plain and crisp, sitting on the mat as if it had been waiting for her.
Her hand trembled as she picked it up. There was no name, no address—just a heavy silence pressing around her, as if the night itself were holding its breath.
She tore it open. Photographs slipped into her hand—images that made her blood run cold. These were pictures she had buried in her past, ones she had sworn no one would ever see again.
Then she found the note:
I know who you really are.
Liana staggered back against the wall, her chest tightening. "No… no, this isn't happening." Her voice broke in the empty apartment, too fragile to hold the weight of her fear.
The photographs slipped from her shaking fingers, scattering across the floor like broken glass. She couldn't breathe.
Forty-eight hours. That was all the message said. No explanation. No mercy. Just forty-eight hours.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket. Unknown number. Her stomach knotted as she answered.
"Liana." A low, commanding voice curled into her ear, sending a shiver racing down her spine. "Did you get my gift?"
Her throat closed. "Who is this?"
A dark chuckle vibrated on the other end. "You'll know soon enough. The clock has started."
The line went dead.
Liana clutched the phone to her chest, her mind spiraling. Who had found her? Who still knew? She had changed everything—her name, her life, her location. How could anyone track her down?
She stumbled toward the window, scanning the street below. Shadows seemed to move in every corner. A car idled too long. A man in a hoodie walked too slowly past. Her breath came in shallow bursts.
She wasn't safe. Not here. Not anywhere.
"Running won't save you."
The voice came from behind her.
Liana spun around, her heart in her throat. A tall figure stepped out of the shadows of her apartment, his broad shoulders filling the space, his presence sharp enough to cut the air in two.
His eyes locked on hers—piercing, dark, utterly unreadable.
"Who—how did you get in here?" Her voice cracked, fear and fury tangled together.
He moved closer, unhurried, like a predator who already knew the prey had nowhere to run. "Doors don't stop me."
Her back hit the wall. "Stay away from me."
He smirked, but his gaze never softened. "I don't take orders, little one. I give them." His voice was velvet wrapped around steel. "And you… belong to me."
Liana's pulse raced. Anger flared through her fear. "I don't even know who the hell you are!"
The man tilted his head, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "Damian Veyron." The name rolled off his tongue like a sentence. "Alpha of the Blackthorn pack. Your protector... or your executioner. That depends on you."
She swallowed hard, trying to mask the tremor in her hands. "Alpha? You're insane."
He leaned closer, so close she could feel the heat of his breath against her ear. "Insane would be leaving you unguarded when someone is hunting you. You're marked, Liana. And whether you like it or not, I'm the only one who can keep you alive for the next forty-eight hours."
Her chest heaved. She was torn between fury and the undeniable pull of his presence. His dominance was suffocating, yet there was something in his voice—an edge of possession, of certainty—that made her knees weaken.
She shoved him back, though he barely moved. "I don't need saving, especially not from a man who breaks into my home."
For a heartbeat, silence stretched between them. Then Damian's eyes darkened, his Alpha aura pressing over her like a weight she couldn't ignore. "You're mine to protect. Mine to claim. Fight me if you wish—but the clock is ticking, and your enemies won't wait for you to make peace with what you are."
Her breath hitched. "What… what am I?"
Damian's lips curved into a knowing smile. "Not human. Not anymore. You think you've been hiding? You've only been running from the truth."
Her world tilted. Heat surged under her skin, a wild, burning energy she had never been able to explain. All her life, she thought it was just fear, trauma, or adrenaline. But the way Damian looked at her now—like he could see straight through her soul—made her question everything.
"I don't believe you," she whispered, even as her body betrayed her with a shiver of recognition.
Damian stepped back just enough to give her air, his voice low and final. "You don't have to believe me. You only have to survive. And to do that, you'll stay by my side. Because whether you trust me or not, Liana, the truth is simple…"
His hand brushed her jaw, tilting her face up toward his. His eyes burned into hers, unrelenting.
"You're mine."