Chapter 5

Jace

I stood in the freezing, damp darkness of the alley, but beneath my skin, my wolf was burning.

When I saw that girl in the café, her trembling hands, the scent of suppressed pain radiating from beneath her oversized sweater, I had to get out of the building. If I had stayed inside, the beast would have taken control, and I would have torn that shrieking woman apart with my bare hands for making her clean up those broken plates.

Through the thin brick wall, my heightened senses picked up every tiny sound. The splashing of water in the sink. Her ragged, panic-stricken breathing. The coppery scent of blood seeping from a fresh cut. Then her boss's screaming.

The rage in my chest grew so thick it practically scraped against my ribs, demanding that I kick down the back door.

The rusty metal door slammed, signaling that the girl had stepped outside into the night.

There she was.

She was dragging an enormous black garbage bag behind her. With every step she took, I could hear the chaotic, terrified pounding of her heart and the dull, painful grinding beneath her ribs. Broken or bruised bones.

She was panting, and the freezing wind cut straight through her thin clothing. When she struggled with the third bag and it slipped back down from the edge of the dumpster, I couldn't remain hidden in the darkness any longer.

I took a step forward.

My shoe scraped softly against the asphalt, but even that was enough for her.

She froze.

The silence of the alley suddenly became thick and threatening as she slowly turned toward me. Beneath the yellowish glow of the streetlight, I saw pure, unmistakable terror on her face.

She pressed herself against the metal dumpster as though she wanted to melt right through it.

Prey. Cornered and helpless.

"Leave the bag," I said.

My voice came out deeper and rougher than I intended. It was the Alpha giving an order, not the man.

Her throat constricted, and her fingers desperately clutched the hem of her sweater.

I slowly approached her.

I had to tense every muscle in my body to keep my movements measured and calm, but her scent, the mixture of fresh blood and suffocating fear, hit me like a physical blow.

"Please..." she whispered, her voice breaking pitifully. "Please, don't..."

I stopped barely a meter away from her.

The beast inside me faltered.

The realization that she was terrified of me, that she thought I intended to hurt her, momentarily broke through my rage.

"I'm not going to hurt you," I said quietly, fighting the tension in my jaw so my voice wouldn't betray the storm raging inside me. "But you're shaking. And your scent... all I can smell is blood and fear."

My gaze dropped to her hand, wrapped in a blood-soaked paper towel.

"Show me your hand."

"I'm fine. I just... I just want to go home," she lied, lowering her eyes to the ground.

Her legs were trembling so violently that I thought she might collapse at any moment.

"Don't lie to me, Willow."

Her name rolled off my tongue more naturally than my own.

Slowly, I raised my hand and reached toward her.

What happened next froze every protective instinct inside me.

She squeezed her eyes shut, jerked her head away, and instinctively threw her arm up in front of her face while a muffled, terrified whimper escaped her lips.

She was waiting for the blow.

Waiting for the pain.

Because that was what her body and soul had learned to expect.

In a single instant, my rage transformed into an icy, murderous focus, directed entirely at whoever had done this to her.

Carefully, as though I were handling the most delicate glass, I wrapped my fingers around her slender wrist.

The very fraction of a second my skin touched hers, my entire world shifted off its axis.

A scorching electrical shock exploded through my arm, striking straight into my soul.

Inside my head, my wolf erupted in one enormous, triumphant howl.

The bond.

The ancient, rare magic of the pack suddenly ignited, snapping into place as though it had always belonged there.

She opened her eyes with a gasp and looked at me.

Raw energy pulsed in my green eyes, and my chest rose and fell violently.

It was her.

The girl who had been broken, who stood trembling in terror before me...

She was my mate.

My Luna.

"Oh my God..." I whispered, my voice hoarse with awe.

Slowly, still reeling from the revelation, I peeled the bloody paper towel away from her palm.

The cut was deep, but something far darker had already captured my attention.

I leaned forward.

My nose almost brushed her hair as I inhaled deeply near her neck.

My entire body went rigid as steel.

Beneath the sweet, pure fragrance of the mate bond, I detected something else.

Old, dried blood.

Bruises that had been festering beneath her skin for days, hidden beneath layers of thick clothing.

"Old blood... and bruises," I murmured as my wolf's murderous instincts tore free of their chains. "Who did this to you? Who the hell dared to lay a hand on you?"

My raw, possessive fury shattered her paralysis.

She yanked her hand away in terror.

The electric connection between us broke, and the cold night air immediately rushed into the space it left behind.

"Nobody! Leave me alone!" she cried, her voice strangled.

She darted around me and blindly sprinted toward the end of the alley, paying no attention to her injured leg.

Every muscle in my body, every drop of blood in my veins, screamed at me to chase her.

To catch her.

To take her back to the pack house and shut her away from the world until I found the bastard responsible for her injuries and tore him limb from limb.

But my feet remained rooted to the concrete.

If I went after her now, I would only frighten her more.

She needed to learn to trust me.

I watched her figure grow smaller beneath the yellowish streetlights, slowly curling my hands into fists.

I didn't care where she ran.

She could no longer sever the bond between us.

From this moment forward, she was mine.

And no one in this world would ever lay a hand on her again.