Elara stood frozen in the doorway of her apartment, staring at Damon Blackwood. The morning light caught the edges of her silver pendant as it dangled from his fingers, the spiral pattern seeming to absorb the sunlight rather than reflect it.
"You dropped this," he said simply.
Elara glanced quickly around the street before returning her attention to Damon. "How did you find where I live?"
A hint of amusement touched his lips. "Your scent is distinctive."
The casual reminder of his supernatural abilities sent a shiver through her. "That is not comforting."
"It was not meant to be." His amber eyes studied her with unsettling intensity. "May I come up? We have much to discuss, and I believe you want this back." He lifted the pendant slightly.
Every instinct told Elara to refuse. To grab the necklace and slam the door. But curiosity and the promise of answers overrode her caution. She stepped back, a wordless invitation that she immediately questioned.
Damon moved with fluid grace as he entered, his presence somehow making her small apartment feel even smaller. He handed her the pendant without ceremony, watching as her fingers closed around it with obvious relief.
"Thank you," she said stiffly, quickly fastening it around her neck. The familiar weight against her skin was instantly calming, like reconnecting with a part of herself.
"That pendant is more than just jewelry," Damon said, his gaze following her movements. "The spiral pattern is ancient. A symbol associated with Siren bloodlines. And the markings on the back,"
"What about them?" Elara touched the pendant protectively. "They are just decorative."
Damon shook his head slowly. "They are a language. One believed lost centuries ago when the Sirens were hunted nearly to extinction."
A chill ran through Elara. "I told you, I am not,"
"A Siren?" Damon finished. "Your voice affected my wolf. That is something only a Siren could do."
She turned away from him, moving to the window to create distance between them. Outside, clouds gathered again, promising more rain. "Even if what you say is true, why should I trust you? You are a stranger who admits to being something straight out of horror stories."
"As are you," he countered quietly.
The simple truth of his words struck her with unexpected force. If he was right, if she truly was a Siren, then she was just as much a creature of myth as he was.
"Why are you here?" she asked finally, turning back to face him. "Surely not just to return my necklace."
Damon's expression grew serious. "I have reason to believe you are in danger. Viktor Stone, the rival Alpha I mentioned, is searching for someone with your abilities. Based on information from our pack elder, I believe he intends to use a Siren's voice in a ritual during the upcoming Blood Moon."
"What kind of ritual?"
"One that would allow him to steal Alpha power and bind multiple packs to his will." Damon's jaw tightened. "It would essentially create a supernatural tyrant with control over every werewolf in the region."
Elara's mind spun with the impossibility of it all. Werewolves, rival Alphas, magical rituals. And yet, after what she had experienced her entire life with her own voice, could she really dismiss it as fantasy?
"Why should I care about werewolf politics?" she asked, though the question lacked conviction.
Damon stepped closer, his presence commanding even without trying. "Because Viktor will not ask nicely for your cooperation. He will take what he wants, by force if necessary."
The implicit threat hung between them. Not from Damon, but from this unseen enemy. Elara felt the weight of it pressing down on her shoulders, adding to the burden she had carried for years.
"I should leave town," she murmured, more to herself than to him. "Start over somewhere else."
"Running will not save you," Damon said firmly. "Viktor has resources, connections. And he is not the only threat out there for someone like you."
Elara's eyes snapped to his. "What do you mean?"
Damon hesitated, seeming to choose his words carefully. "Sirens were hunted for their power. By werewolves initially, then by humans who learned of their existence. Some families specialized in tracking and eliminating them."
The words struck a chord of fear in Elara's heart. She had always felt hunted, had always sensed danger lurking just beyond her awareness. To hear it confirmed was both terrifying and, strangely, validating.
"I need time," she said finally. "This is overwhelming."
Damon nodded, though reluctance was clear in his posture. "I understand. But do not take too long. The danger is real, and it is growing closer." He reached into his jacket and withdrew a small device that looked like a sleek black pen. "This is a panic button. Press it if you feel threatened, and my security team will respond."
Elara took it hesitantly. "Thank you."
"I will return tomorrow morning," Damon said, moving toward the door. He paused. His hand on the knob. "The pendant, was it your mother's?"
The question caught her off guard. "Yes. How did you know?"
A shadow passed over his features. "Just a guess. Siren gifts often pass through maternal lines." He opened the door, then added softly, "She must have known what you were, even if she never told you."
Before Elara could respond, he was gone, leaving her alone with questions that seemed to multiply by the minute.