Fated by fire and fortune

The night was thick with the scent of rain, though the storm had not yet broken. The moon hung heavy over the skyline, casting a silver glow on the towering estate perched on the edge of Blackthorn Ridge. Inside the grand hall of the Bloodmoon Manor, Alpha Kieran Blackwood stood with his back to the floor-to-ceiling windows, his gaze locked on the city below.

He could feel it in his bones.

A shift in the air. A disturbance in the careful balance he had built over the last five years.

His pack murmured behind him, warriors and elites whispering amongst themselves. They had been called here for one reason: she was back.

Kieran clenched his jaw, fingers curling into fists. Selene Vale. The name alone was enough to ignite the fury simmering just beneath his skin. His fated mate. The woman who had once stood beside him as his equal—until she had shattered that bond, disappearing into the night, leaving only blood and destruction in her wake.

Now, after all these years, she had returned. And Kieran would not make the mistake of letting her slip away again.

The heavy oak doors of the hall groaned open, and the whispers died.

She walked in, her presence commanding as if she had never left.

Selene was no longer the woman he remembered. She was sharper now, refined in a way that spoke of battles fought in the dark. Her silver-blonde hair fell in loose waves, catching the glow of the chandeliers above. She wore a fitted black dress, elegant yet deadly, the slit high enough to reveal the dagger strapped to her thigh.

Kieran’s chest tightened.

Damn her.

Even after all these years, she still carried the scent of midnight and fire—his undoing, his curse.

She stopped a few feet away, her gaze meeting his without a flicker of hesitation. The defiance in her amber eyes sent a slow burn through his veins.

“I hear you’ve been waiting for me,” Selene said, her voice as smooth as the whiskey in his glass.

Kieran set his drink down with deliberate precision. “You walk into my city, into my home, and act as if you still belong here?” His voice was cold, controlled, but beneath it was something more—something dangerous.

Selene tilted her head slightly. “I never stopped belonging, Kieran. You just wanted to forget me.”

The room seemed to shrink around them, the weight of unspoken truths pressing in.

He took a slow step forward, his towering frame radiating power. “You think I forgot?” His voice dropped lower, lethal. “You think I don’t remember the night you disappeared, leaving behind a trail of bodies and broken oaths?”

Selene’s lips curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “I didn’t disappear, Kieran. I was taken.”

Silence crashed over the hall.

For a fraction of a second, something flickered in his gaze—something unreadable. But Kieran Blackwood was not a man easily swayed by words, not after what he had endured.

“You expect me to believe that?” he murmured, his voice edged with quiet fury. “That after five years of silence, you come back with excuses?”

Selene stepped closer, and for the first time, he noticed the faint scar tracing the curve of her collarbone. A mark that hadn’t been there before. A reminder of battles fought in places he knew nothing about.

“I don’t care what you believe,” she said softly. “I didn’t come back to beg for forgiveness. I came back for what’s mine.”

Kieran’s pulse thundered.

She was either the most brazen woman he had ever met—or the most dangerous.

“Yours?” he echoed, taking another step, closing the distance until they were a breath apart.

Selene lifted her chin. “The truth. My place in this pack.” Her voice dropped lower, nearly a whisper. “And you.”

A slow, deadly smile spread across Kieran’s lips.

“You lost that right the night you betrayed me,” he said, his voice a velvet threat.

Selene met his gaze, unwavering. “Then I guess I’ll just have to take it back.”

A storm brewed between them, crackling in the air like the promise of fire.

And this time, there would be no turning back.