Mason POV
There are two types of cities in this world: the kind that hides secrets in bright towers and the kind that lets them rot in alleys. I preferred the second. It was more honest.
My driver hated it when I ditched the suits and town cars, but tonight wasn't about appearances. Tonight was about instincts.
I walked alone, blending into the shadows with my black coat and silent steps, the hum of the city folding around me. This part of town south of the financial district, north of the forgotten was where desperation lived. And where truth breathed through cracked pavement and broken neon signs.
That's where I saw her.
At first, just a flash of movement. Three men. One girl.
Then the tension in her shoulders. The way she stood was not like prey, but like something that had already survived far worse.
I watched for a second longer than I should have. Not because she was beautiful, though she was but because there was something… wrong about the scene.
And then she moved.
Fast. Too fast for a human.
She broke one guy's wrist cleanly, swept the second to the ground like she'd been trained since birth. The third didn't know it yet, but he was outmatched.
So I stepped in anyway.
Not to save her. I already knew she didn't need saving.
I just wanted to see her up close.
"Step away from the girl," I said, voice low and calm.
He lunged.
I moved faster. Years of training, enhanced senses, and something darker inside me...I slammed him against the wall before he could blink. He crumpled.
The girl... no, woman was already watching me when I turned. She wasn't scared. She was calculating. Her hoodie hung low, but I could see the sharp line of her jaw, the glint of silver in her eyes.
Her scent hit me next.
Not perfume. Not sweat.
Something wild. Something… not human.
"You alright?" I asked.
"I'm fine," she said, like it was a challenge.
God, I liked her already.
We walked in silence, the rhythm of the city matching her quiet steps. She didn't stumble. Didn't chatter. She walked like a ghost present, but somewhere far away.
"You've got good reflexes," I said, breaking the quiet.
She didn't look at me. "I had a good teacher."
"You in the military?"
"No."
"Self-defense classes?"
She glanced at me then. "Life."
Touché.
I wanted to ask more, but I knew that look the kind that said Don't push me or I'll vanish. I'd seen it in mirrors too many times to miss it.
We reached her building a rundown apartment complex with flickering lights and peeling paint. She paused at the door, turning to face me.
"Thanks," she said.
That was it. No fluttering lashes. No nervous gratitude. Just a simple, clean thank-you.
I hesitated. I don't usually make offers like this. But something about her, about the fire under all that quiet pulled at something long-dormant in me.
"You know, if you're looking for something more stable… safer… my company's hiring."
She arched an eyebrow. "Your company?"
"SharpTech."
She blinked. Didn't flinch. Didn't fawn. Just… blinked.
"You're that Mason Sharp?"
"Do I look like I'm someone else?"
She stared a second longer. "You look like someone who shouldn't be wandering through alleyways at night."
I grinned. "Occupational hazard."
I handed her a card. She took it reluctantly.
"Come by. If you want."
"Maybe," she said.
Maybe.
It was the most promising word I'd heard in months.
Back at SharpTech HQ Midnight
My office sat on the top floor, walls of glass looking out over the city like a throne room. But it never felt like power to me. It felt like a cage. Cold. Clean. Empty.
My assistant, Dane, entered without knocking. As usual.
"You're late for your meeting with the security contractor," he said.
"I canceled it."
Dane sighed. "You never cancel meetings. What's going on?"
"I met someone."
That got his attention. His brow lifted like I'd just admitted I was joining a monastery.
"Who?"
"A woman. In the alley near 6th and Market."
His eyes narrowed. "Trouble?"
"Not for her."
He waited. I leaned back in my chair, watching the stars flicker beyond the glass.
"She's not normal, Dane."
"Like… emotionally?"
"No. Like… biologically."
His posture stiffened. "You think she's..."
"I don't think. I know."
Werewolf.
The word tasted strange in this room full of technology and cold logic. I hadn't seen one in years. Not since the wars ended. Not since the accords.
"You want me to look into her?" Dane asked.
I shook my head. "No."
"Mason..."
"I said no." My voice was sharper than I meant. "She's not a threat."
"None of them are… until they are."
I closed my eyes. He wasn't wrong. But he wasn't right either.
This wasn't just curiosity. It was instinct. Something in me had snapped to attention the moment I saw her. Not desire. Not even an attraction.
Recognition.
Like something inside me had been waiting to meet her.
And now it had.
Flashback Five Years Ago
Blood.
It soaked the forest floor, hot and sticky. My hands trembled as I held my brother's body, his eyes wide, glassy, unseeing.
"Run," he'd said. "They'll come for you next."
He died before I could ask who they were.
That was the night I learned the truth. That we weren't just human. That our bloodline carried something older. Something hunted.
Lycan magic. Hidden for generations in our veins.
I buried my brother under moonlight and promised I'd never run again.
I built SharpTech not just to make money but to shield myself. To build a fortress of tech and secrets no one could breach.
And now, she had appeared.
Just as I'd begun to forget the taste of vengeance.
Present 2 AM
I sat in my office, her name unknown, but her face etched into my memory.
Her power had been subtle, controlled. That kind of restraint didn't come from fear it came from pain. Real pain. The kind that leaves scars you never talk about.
She was running from something. Or someone.
And for reasons I didn't yet understand, I wanted to know everything.
Dane handed me the file with tight lips. "I ran a soft trace," he said, avoiding my eyes. "Didn't use company servers."
The file was thin. She had no ID, no bank records, no social security number. Nothing.
Like she didn't exist.
But there were whispers police reports, secondhand descriptions from diners, and alleyway cameras. A girl with silver eyes. A girl who moved like she was dancing with ghosts.
A girl with no name… but too much power to hide for long.
"Do you want me to keep digging?" Dane asked.
I stared at the photo they'd captured from the diner camera. Her hoodie was pulled low, but her eyes still burned through.
"No," I said. "I'll handle it."
Because deep down, I didn't want a file to tell me who she was.
I wanted her to tell me.