Two

Present Day: Verance City

Sera poured whiskey with steady hands. Four fingers, no ice, a flick of the wrist that sent the amber liquid spinning before it settled, she'd perfected this. She slid the glass across the sticky bartop, and the grumpy regular, a werewolf from the Southside crew, grunted his thanks.

"You're a gem, Ser." He said.

"Sera," she corrected smiling. "Not Ser. Not Serena. Sera."

"Whatever." He knocked back the whiskey in one gulp. "Same time tomorrow?"

"If the roof doesn't collapse." She wiped down the bar with a rag that smelled of bleach and old beer. "You know how landlord Thursdays go."

The Rotted Oak was a dive, the kind of place where the floorboards creaked, the neon sign flickered, and the clientele had more scars than teeth. It sat on the border between Verance City's human district and the shifter underbelly, it was a grey zone where everyone pretended not to notice claws under gloves or eyes that glowed in the dark.

Sera had worked here for two years.

No one knew she was shifter, and maybe she wasn't.

Her wolf had never returned after the rejection, so she was human now, biogically, spiritually, irreversibly. There were no heat cycles, no enhanced senses, no shifting. Just her, her cheap apartment upstairs, and a cat named Wreckage who'd shown up as a kitten and never left.

Good riddance.

She'd built a life. A small one, sure. A lonely one, maybe. But a safe one.

Her shifts ran from six PM to two AM. She went home, fed Wreckage, watched true crime documentaries until she fell asleep on the couch. Once a week, she had a video call with her therapist, Dr. Ellison, who specialized in "trauma-related dissociative episodes" and had no idea Sera was once a werewolf.

"How's the nightmare frequency?" Dr. Ellison would ask.

"Down to twice a week," Sera would lie.

The truth was every night. Every single night, she dreamed of golden eyes and a mouth full of her own blood. But the dreams were quieter now. Fuzzier, like a scar that had stopped itching but would never fully fade.

Tonight was slow, it was a Tuesday in late autumn, rain was hammering against the windows, only four customers were nursing their drinks. Sera was restocking the well vodka when the bar's front door opened and let cold air rush in harshly. Rain spattered the floorboards.

And Sera's heart stopped even before she turned around to look.

No....

Turning, she confirmed that the man who filled the doorway was massive: tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in black from throat to boots. Rain plastered his dark hair to his forehead. His jaw was sharp, and his hands were gloved.

She didn't need to see his eyes to know what color they were.

No, no, no, no.... This wasn't happening, there was no was this was happening.

But then he looked up and she saw his eyes; molten gold, ringed with red.

Caelan.

The bottle slipped from Sera's fingers, it hit the floor and shattered, causing vodka to pool across the worn wood. She didn't move, she couldn't even breathe.

Three years. It'd been Three years. Three years of hiding, of building walls and burying scars and pretending the bond had died with her wolf. But it hadn't died, and she confirmed that now.

Because the moment his eyes met hers, something roared in her chest. Not her wolf, something deeper. Something primal.

Her mating gland; the chewed, ruined, dead gland on her throat throbbed like a fresh wound.

He'd found her. Her last had caught up with her.

Caelan stepped into the bar.

The other customers didn't notice, or at least they pretended not to. Shifters had a sixth sense for danger, and this man radiated alpha like a furnace radiated heat. The Southside wolf at the bar ducked his head and scuttled toward the bathroom.

Sera's hand found the baseball bat she kept under the counter.

"Get out," she said. Her voice didn't shake, and she was thankful for good, small victories.

Caelan stopped ten feet from the bar, close enough that she could see the shadows under his eyes, the way his chest rose and fell like he'd just run a marathon.

"Sera." He said her name, and she felt faint.

"Don't." She hefted the bat. "I will crack your skull open. I will not hesitate."

She knew there wasn't much she could do really, she was pretty much a weak human trying to defend herself against a werewolf alpha.

"I know." He replied.

He didn't move, didn't raise his hands in surrender, didn't try to approach. He just stood there, dripping rainwater onto the floor she'd mopped just a moment ago.

"You need to leave," she told him.

She didn't know why he was here or what he wanted from her, but she was sure she wouldn't let him ruin the life she had now. It was safe and stable and she liked it, she didn't have to be the weak and defective omega everyone looked down on in the pack.

"I can't."

"Why?" She bit out.

His jaw tightened. His hands curled into fists at his sides. She watched him swallow, watched his throat work, watched something raw and bleeding flicker across his face.

"The bond," he said. "It didn't break, Sera. It mutated."

And her heart dropped heavily. She was still tethered to him.

"Three years," he continued. "Three years, and I've felt every heartbeat, every nightmare, every time you cried yourself to sleep. I know your fantasies, I know your fears. I know verything about you."

"Stop." She whispered. Her voice barely came out.

She couldn't believe this was happening, she couldn't believe he was actually standing in front of her saying all this.

"And I know," he said, taking one step closer, "that your wolf isn't dead. It's sleeping. And I'm the only one who can wake it up."

Sera's hand was shaking now, the bat wobbled but she tried to hold onto it.

She'd missed her wolf so much, it was as if a part of her had died that day. And he was standing there, telling her her wolf wasn't dead and he could wake it.

"I will kill you," she said quietly, he throat felt so tight.

"No, you won't." He said taking another step. "Because if you were going to, you would have tried to already. You would have shifted. You would have fought. But you can't, can you? Without the bond, without me, you're just a human."

The word was a slap. Even after living amongst humans for so long, being called 'human' felt derogatory.

"I'm not yours anymore," she said. "Whatever it is you want, I won't give. Leave me alone."

"No." He stopped in front of the bar, close enough to touch. Rainwater dripped from his hair onto the wood between them. "You're not. And that's why I need you to come back."

She backed away shaking her head. "Go to hell."

"I've been there." His voice cracked.

She remembered the blood, the mud, the laughter.

"I'd rather die," she said quietly, "than go anywhere with you."

His expression didn't change, but something in his eyes did.

"I know," he said. "That's why I'm not giving you a choice."

Before she could swing the bat, the bar's back door burst open and four Ironwood enforcers trooped in.

Sera turned to run, but they were faster, so much faster, and a hand clamped over her mouth as arms wrapped around her waist.

She tried to scream but the sound was muffled.

"We're not going to hurt you," she heard Caelan say.

But she wants about to believe him, not when he'd almost ripped her throat out. She bit down on the hand over her mouth as hard as she could.

And the enforcer, a lean, sharp-faced beta with an eyebrow ring let go of her briefly. She tried to bolt away but he grabbed her again, more firmly this time, and she knew there was no getting away.

"Let me go," she snarled at Caelan. She wished her would would wake up, she wished she could fight. "Let me go!"

"I will," Caelan replied. "When we get home."

Home.....

The word hit her like a second rejection.

"I don't have a home," she whispered. "You made sure of that."

Caelan didn't flinch. He nodded at the beta and before she could process what was happening, a handkerchief was pressed against her nose and darkness crept in immediately.