SERA'S POV
I make it exactly three blocks before my hands start shaking.
My apartment is five blocks from Moonbean Coffee. I've walked this route a thousand times—head down, earbuds in, invisible.
But tonight, people keep staring at me.
A teenage boy does a double-take as I pass. An older woman actually points. Two college students whisper and pull out their phones.
They recognize me.
My stomach drops. The video. It's already spreading.
I walk faster, pulling my hood up even though it's not raining. Just three more blocks. Get home, grab my emergency bag, catch the 11 PM bus to Portland. I've done this before. I can do it again.
Two more blocks.
A man steps directly into my path. "Hey! Aren't you the girl from the video? The one who saved that kid?"
"No," I lie, trying to step around him. "You've got the wrong person."
"I'm pretty sure it's you. Can I get a selfie?"
"I'm not her. Sorry." I practically run now, my heart hammering.
One more block.
My phone buzzes. Then buzzes again. And again. The cheap burner phone I bought three months ago suddenly won't stop vibrating.
I yank it out of my pocket.
Seventeen missed calls from unknown numbers. Thirty-two text messages. And counting.
"OMG are you the hero from the video???"
"News outlets are looking for you!"
"You're FAMOUS! Check Twitter!"
No. No, no, no.
I'm running now, full sprint, not caring who sees. I burst through the entrance of my crappy apartment building, take the stairs two at a time to the third floor.
My hands are shaking so badly I can barely get the key in the lock.
Finally, the door opens. I slam it shut behind me, lock it, then shove a chair under the handle for good measure.
Only then do I let myself breathe.
The apartment is exactly as I left it this morning—tiny studio with a mattress on the floor, a microwave, and nothing on the walls. No photos. No personal items. Nothing that can't be abandoned in sixty seconds.
I've lived here for four months. The longest I've stayed anywhere since Mom died.
Stupid. I got comfortable. Got careless. And now I'm paying for it.
I pull my laptop from under the mattress and open it with trembling fingers.
The video loads immediately. It's the top trending topic on every social media platform.
"MYSTERY WOMAN SAVES CHILD WITH SUPERHUMAN SPEED"
My face is crystal clear in the thumbnail. 2.3 million views in three hours.
I click play even though I don't want to.
There I am, moving impossibly fast. The world seems to slow down in the footage—or I speed up, it's hard to tell. I grab the little girl and roll us both out of the way a split second before the car crashes.
It looks... wrong. Unnatural. Supernatural.
The comments make my blood run cold:
"That's not human speed"
"Has to be CGI, right?"
"Olympic athletes can't move that fast"
"What is she???"
But it's the other comments—the ones buried deeper—that terrify me:
"My grandmother told stories about people like this. She called them Moon-Blessed. Said they were hunted."
"I've seen something like this before. In the mountains. They moved so fast I thought I imagined it."
"This is why we need to be careful. There are things out there that aren't human."
One comment has fifty replies:
"Anyone else notice her eyes flashed silver right before she moved? Pause at 0:04."
I pause the video at four seconds.
My eyes are glowing. Just for a fraction of a second, but it's there. Silver light where normal eyes should be.
The power leaked out. I tried so hard to suppress it, to just move fast without letting the magic show, but it wasn't enough.
I slam the laptop shut and start packing.
Emergency bag first—already packed, always ready. Cash sewn into the lining. Three fake IDs. Prepaid credit cards. Change of clothes. Burner phones.
I grab my three other bags. Everything I own fits in four bags. That's the rule. Never own more than you can carry.
New plan: Portland tonight. Dye my hair. Colored contacts. Different name. Find a job that pays cash. Disappear.
I'm zipping up the last bag when I smell it.
Pine and smoke. Wild and dangerous. The scent of dominance and power and something ancient my blood recognizes even if my brain doesn't.
Wolf.
Every instinct I have screams RUN.
But there's nowhere to run. I'm on the third floor. One exit. No fire escape.
I'm trapped.
The scent gets stronger. Closer. Right outside my door.
Then I hear it—footsteps. Heavy. Multiple people.
They're not even trying to be quiet.
My power rises beneath my skin, begging to be released. I could command them to leave. One word and they'd have no choice but to obey.
But then they'd know. They'd know exactly what I am.
The door handle turns. Locked.
A pause.
Then the door explodes inward, ripped completely off its hinges.
Three massive men fill my doorway. Not men—wolves pretending to be men. I can see it in their eyes, the way they move, the raw power radiating from them.
They're each well over six feet tall, built like they could bench-press cars. Tattoos cover their arms. Their eyes glow faintly in the dim light.
The largest one steps forward, nostrils flaring as he scents the air. Scents me.
"Sera Winters," he growls. Not a question. A statement.
I back up until I hit the wall. "I don't know what you're talking about. You have the wrong apartment."
His smile shows too many teeth. "Don't lie to us. We can smell the power on you. You're the one from the video."
"That wasn't me—"
"You moved faster than any human could. Saved a child without even thinking about it." He takes another step closer. "The Alpha wants to meet you."
"I don't know any Alpha." My voice is steadier than I feel. "Get out of my apartment."
"Can't do that." Another step. "You're coming with us. Willingly or not—your choice."
Power burns in my throat. The command is right there: LEAVE. FORGET YOU SAW ME. GO.
But I can't. If I use it, everything Mom died to protect will be for nothing.
"I'm not going anywhere with you," I say firmly.
The wolf's eyes flash gold. "Then we do this the hard way."
He lunges.
I dodge—purely on instinct and speed. His hand closes on empty air where I was standing a second ago.
The other two move to block the exit.
I'm fast. But they're faster. And there are three of them.
One grabs my arm. His grip is iron. "Stop fighting. You're only making this—"
The apartment door—what's left of it—suddenly fills with a new presence.
The temperature drops. The air itself seems to thicken, pressing down on everything.
The three wolves immediately freeze. Their heads drop in submission. One actually whimpers.
Because he's here.
I don't know who he is. Haven't seen his face yet. But I feel him—a presence so powerful it makes the other three look like puppies.
This is the Alpha.
And when he steps into my apartment, the entire world tilts.
He's the most beautiful, most dangerous thing I've ever seen.
Tall—maybe six-foot-four. Broad shoulders that fill the doorway. Dark hair that's slightly too long, like he can't be bothered to cut it. And eyes...
Silver eyes that seem to see straight into my soul.
Our gazes lock.
Everything else disappears. The destroyed door. The three wolves. The emergency bags. The video. All of it fades until there's only him and me and the strange, terrifying pull between us.
His eyes flash gold.
I feel it snap into place—something ancient, something absolute, something that binds us together whether I want it or not.
The mate bond.
No. Please, God, no.
Not this. Not him. Not now.
The Alpha's expression shifts from surprise to shock to something that looks almost like wonder.
"Everyone out," he orders without breaking eye contact. His voice is rough, barely controlled. Like he's fighting to stay calm.
The three wolves practically run from the apartment.
We're alone.
The silence is suffocating. He just keeps staring at me like I'm a puzzle he can't quite solve.
"Who are you?" His voice is quieter now but no less commanding.
"Nobody," I whisper. "Just a barista. You made a mistake. I'm not—"
"Liar."