LOGINShe was trained to hunt monsters. She never expected to belong to one. Emily - known only as agent 23 - has spent her life as a weapon, controlled by a voice that decides when she can use the power in her blood. She is sent where others cannot go. She eliminates what others fear. Her next mission: get close to Damien Hayes. Wealthy, admired and untouchable. Emily is meant to spy on him, earn his trust, and uncover the secrets tied to his name. Unknown to Emily, Damien is an alpha werewolf hiding in plain sight. But the closer she gets, the more everything begins to unravel. Because Damien is not just dangerous - he feels like something she has never known. Home. And when an unexplainable bond awakens between them, and their past intertwines, Emily is forced to face a truth far more terrifying than her mission: She is his mate. Now, torn between the masters who own her and the man who sees her, Emily must decide where she truly belongs… Before the choice is taken from her.
View MoreThe yellow cab was parked at the curb, engine idling, its roof light dark.
Emily sat behind the wheel with one elbow resting on the door, fingers tapping lightly against the steering wheel in time with the music spilling from the radio. An old song. Slow. Familiar. The kind that made the city outside the windshield blur into lights and shadows instead of noise and chaos.
The sign was off.
She leaned back slightly, letting the seat cradle her shoulders, eyes half-lidded as the melody carried her somewhere softer. Somewhere quieter. For a moment, she could almost pretend she was just another woman in the city, killing time, listening to music, waiting for nothing at all.
The back door flew open.
Emily flinched, hand tightening on the wheel as someone slid into the seat behind her. The door slammed shut with sharp finality.
“Drive.”
The voice was rough. Strained.
Emily turned her head slightly, annoyed more than startled. “Sorry, sir,” she said calmly. “I’m off duty.”
She lifted her chin and nodded toward the windshield. “Light’s off.”
“I said drive.”
She sighed and turned more fully, irritation bubbling up. “I’m not working. You’ll have to find another…”
She stopped.
The man in the back seat was hunched forward, shoulders tight, both hands pressed hard against his left side. His fingers were slick with blood. Dark red. Too much of it. It soaked through his shirt, spreading fast, staining the fabric and dripping onto the seat.
Emily’s breath caught.
“Oh my God,” she whispered. “You’re bleeding.”
“Drive.”
Her heart started pounding, the calm she’d been floating in evaporating instantly. “What happened to you? You need a hospital.”
“No,” he said sharply. “You need to do as I say…. Please.”
She stared at him, trying to make sense of what she was seeing. His face was pale, jaw clenched so tightly his teeth ground together. Sweat beaded along his hairline. Whatever happened to him hadn’t been small.
“I told you,” she said, voice firmer now, “I’m not working.”
“I’ll pay,” he snapped. “Whatever you want.”
“This isn’t about money,” she shot back. “Are you some kind of criminal? Because I’m not….”
“You’re wasting time,” he said again, weaker this time. “Please drive before they come out.”
Something in his tone made her pause. Not desperation alone. Control. Like pain was something he was used to managing.
Emily glanced at the side mirror.
Three men stepped out of the building behind them.
“Shit,” the man muttered. “You can’t let them see me.”
He sank lower into the seat, shoulders folding inward, trying to make himself smaller, invisible. One hand stayed pressed to his side, the other braced against the floor as if the car itself might hide him.
Outside, the men moved slowly at first, scanning the ground. Emily watched as one of them crouched, fingers brushing against something on the pavement. Blood. He looked up and followed the trail with his eyes.
Straight to the cab.
Her stomach dropped.
The men straightened. One of them pointed.
They broke into a run.
“Get down,” the man in the back seat said hoarsely.
Emily didn’t think.
Her foot slammed onto the gas.
The cab lurched forward just as one of the men reached for the door handle. Tires screeched. The city surged into motion around them, lights streaking as she swerved into traffic.
“What the hell is going on?” Emily shouted, hands tight on the wheel.
“Just drive,” he said through clenched teeth.
“I’m driving,” she snapped. “Who are those people?”
He groaned, bracing himself as the car surged forward. “I have no idea.”
Emily glanced at the mirror again.
The men were already in a car—black, fast. It peeled away from the curb and fell in behind them with terrifying ease.
“They’re following us,” she said, heart pounding. “You’re telling me you don’t know the people chasing you with guns?”
He didn’t answer right away.
“They’re willing to do all this just to get to you,” she pressed. “And you don’t know who they are?”
His voice came strained. “Maybe they have the wrong person.”
Emily shot him a sharp look. “What do you mean they have the wrong person?”
Silence.
Her grip tightened on the wheel. “You don’t get to be quiet right now.”
He exhaled sharply, pain cracking through his composure. “What do I have to say to make you believe I don’t know who these people are?”
She hesitated, then asked, “Did you take something from them?”
“No,” he said quickly. “Of course not.” He paused, then added, almost bitterly, “Do you really think that matters in a situation like this?”
“It matters to me,” Emily snapped. “You just dragged me into this.”
The car behind them closed the distance, headlights flaring in her rearview mirror.
“Where am I supposed to go?” she asked.
“Anywhere,” he said. “Just lose them.”
Emily swallowed hard and turned sharply onto a side street, tires squealing as the cab cut through traffic. Her pulse roared in her ears, instincts snapping into place. She took another turn, then another, weaving through narrow roads and parked cars.
The city blurred.
“They’re still there,” she muttered.
“Keep driving.”
“I can’t outrun them in a cab!”
She pushed harder anyway, foot heavy on the pedal. The engine protested, but she ignored it. Her hands moved with surprising steadiness, muscles remembering something her mind refused to name.
The man behind her drew in a sharp breath, blood slick on his fingers. “Find somewhere quiet,” he said, voice tight with control. “Drop me off, and you can be on your way.”
Emily glanced at him in the mirror, then twisted in her seat just enough to look back. His face had gone pale, jaw clenched, eyes glassy with pain.
“Shut up,” she said. “Just make sure you don’t die on my backseat.”
She turned her eyes forward just as a car suddenly burst out from a side street ahead of them.
Emily barely had time to register it.
“Shit…”
She yanked the wheel hard to the right.
The cab skidded, tires screaming as metal screamed louder. The world tilted. Glass shattered. Gravity vanished.
Then everything slammed down at once.
The car crashed into a ditch, the impact throwing Emily forward as the airbag exploded in her face. The sound was deafening. Crushing. Final…
Emily heard every word Damien said, even as her body lay still beneath his hands, even as her breathing remained shallow and uneven in a way that convinced everyone watching that she was slipping in and out of awareness. The haze from the drug had not completely faded, but her mind was clear enough to register the warmth of his grip and the quiet urgency in his voice. He held her hand in both of his, not loosely, not out of obligation, but with a steadiness that felt instinctive, as though letting go would somehow make her condition worse.“You’re going to be fine,” he murmured, his voice low, almost private, as though he wasn’t speaking for anyone else to hear. His thumb brushed lightly against her knuckles in a small, repetitive motion, and there was something in that gesture that didn’t belong to a man who was simply concerned out of politeness. “Whatever this is, it’ll pass. Just hold on.”Emily remained unresponsive, her lashes barely lifting, her body still caught in the illusio
Emily had always known how to break herself without leaving a mark.It was a skill she had learned long before she understood what pain meant - how to take it, how to carry it, how to use it. Pain was never something to fear. It was something to measure. Something to control.But as she stood behind her desk, her phone still warm in her hand from Knox’s message, she realized this time would be different.Because this time, she hesitated.Her gaze drifted across the office floor, settling on Damien through the glass partition of his office. He was speaking to someone on a call, his posture relaxed, his expression unreadable in that quiet, controlled way that had begun to unsettle her more than it should. There was nothing in his face that gave anything away. No sign that he was hiding anything. No crack. No shift.And that was the problem.She still could not read him.Her fingers tightened slightly around her phone.Meeting. 6 PM. Mandatory.Knox’s words echoed again in her mind, shar
The moment Emily stepped into the office, she sensed the shift before anyone said a word. It wasn’t tension or urgency that filled the space, but something far more restless and alive. The usual rhythm of quiet work had been replaced by a hum of overlapping conversations, voices rising and falling in uneven bursts, as if everyone was trying to tell the same story at once. Small groups had formed between desks, phones were being passed around, and even those who tried to remain seated kept turning in their chairs, drawn into the collective excitement. It felt less like the start of a workday and more like the aftermath of something that had shaken everyone at once.Emily slowed her steps slightly, her eyes moving across the room as she took in the details. This wasn’t ordinary office chatter. There was energy in it—something sharp, something fueled by the kind of news that carried both sho
Emily woke slowly, as if the morning had to reach for her and pull her back from somewhere far away. For a few quiet seconds, she lay still in her bed, her eyes closed, her breathing steady, but her mind already awake—caught in the lingering threads of a dream that refused to dissolve. It did not fade the way ordinary dreams did. It stayed, vivid and unsettling, clinging to her like something that had not been imagined, but remembered.The feeling of it lingered first before the images fully returned. There had been warmth, closeness, the unmistakable sense of being held in a way that felt safe and consuming at the same time. She could still recall the way Damien’s presence had wrapped around her, the way his voice had sounded when he called her name—low, certain, impossibly close. It had not felt like fantasy. It had felt real.But then the s
Damien closed the bedroom door behind him and stood there for a moment, staring quietly at the floor.The drive back to the estate that evening had been unusually quiet. Normally he enjoyed those few minutes between the office and home, a chance to let the day settle before stepping into the calm o
Damien woke later than usual that morning.For a moment he remained lying in bed, staring at the ceiling while the soft light of the early sun filtered through the curtains. His mind was still half caught between sleep and the memory of the previous evening.The dinner.The quiet conversation.The
Emily sat on the edge of her bed, still wearing the same clothes she had worn to the lunch meeting earlier that afternoon. The evening had already settled over Damien’s estate, and the quiet inside the house felt almost unnatural after the events of the day. From somewhere outside, she could hear t
The road leading into the forest was narrow and almost invisible beneath the thick shadows of the trees. Damien slowed the car as the headlights cut through the darkness, illuminating patches of gravel and fallen leaves scattered across the path. The city lights had disappeared miles behind him, re
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