I used to think fate was kind.

That it carefully chose who we would become, placing us exactly where we belonged.

I was wrong.

If fate had been kind, it would never have whispered his name to me.

It was my eighteenth birthday, and the Sterling Estate was glowing beneath a thousand lights.

The gardens were filled with guests dressed in expensive suits and designer gowns. Crystal chandeliers hung from the white tents erected across the lawn, and a string quartet played softly in the distance.

Everything was perfect.

It had to be.

After all, I was Amelia Sterling, the only daughter of Richard Sterling—the wealthiest businessman in Blackwood City.

My life had always been planned for me.

Which school I attended.

What I wore.

Who I spoke to.

Even who I would marry.

My father never said it outright, but everyone knew that one day I would be mated to Ethan Blackwood, the son of Alpha Marcus Blackwood.

He was handsome, wealthy, and heir to one of the strongest packs in the country.

Everyone thought we were destined for each other.

Everyone except fate.

"Smile, Amelia," my mother whispered as she adjusted the diamond necklace around my neck. "Half the city is here."

I forced a smile.

"Do I have a choice?"

"No."

We both laughed, though mine lacked conviction.

The truth was, I hated parties. I hated being paraded around like a prized possession.

"Your father is looking for you," she added.

Of course he was.

My father always had something to say.

I made my way through the crowd, nodding politely at the endless stream of guests congratulating me.

"Happy birthday, Amelia!"

"You've grown into a beautiful young woman."

"You and Ethan would make beautiful children."

I nearly choked on my champagne.

By the time I reached the mansion steps, I was exhausted.

That was when I saw him.

Alexander.

He stood beside my father's black sedan, dressed in his usual dark suit and chauffeur's cap. One hand rested behind his back while the other held the car door open for a guest.

He didn't belong in the world of million-dollar watches and political connections.

Yet somehow, he looked more at home than anyone else.

At twenty-eight, Alexander Knight had been my father's driver for as long as I could remember.

Quiet.

Reserved.

Impossible to read.

He never spoke unless spoken to, and despite working for my father for nearly ten years, nobody seemed to know anything about him.

Not where he came from.

Not whether he had family.

Nothing.

It was as though he'd appeared out of thin air one day and simply stayed.

For some reason, I found that unsettling.

As if sensing my gaze, his eyes lifted to meet mine.

My breath caught.

His eyes.

I'd seen them a thousand times before, but tonight they seemed different—brighter somehow, like molten gold beneath the estate lights.

He looked away immediately.

As he always did.

"Miss Sterling."

His voice was deep and smooth, sending an unfamiliar shiver down my spine.

"Alexander."

"You should return to your guests."

That annoyed me more than it should have.

"And you should stop talking to me like I'm a child."

His jaw tightened.

"My apologies."

There it was again.

That distance.

That invisible wall he'd built between us.

"Do you ever say anything else?" I asked.

A flicker of amusement crossed his face.

"No, Miss Sterling."

For the first time all evening, I laughed.

Then my father appeared.

"There you are!" Richard Sterling boomed before his expression hardened at the sight of Alexander standing beside me.

His eyes narrowed.

"Alexander, the car."

"Yes, sir."

Without another word, he lowered his head and stepped away.

I watched him leave, puzzled by the tension that suddenly filled the air.

My father followed my gaze and his expression darkened.

"Stay away from him."

I blinked.

"What?"

"You heard me."

"He's your driver."

"Exactly."

I frowned. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means there are things in this world you don't understand."

Before I could ask another question, the estate lights suddenly flickered.

Once.

Twice.

Then darkness swallowed the garden.

Gasps erupted around us.

"What happened?" someone shouted.

A cold wind swept through the estate.

And then I heard it.

A howl.

The sound froze the blood in my veins.

It was distant yet impossibly close, echoing through the night like a warning.

The guests began murmuring nervously.

"Wolves?"

"That's impossible."

"We're inside city limits."

My heart pounded violently against my chest.

Something felt wrong.

Terribly wrong.

Then, without warning, a sharp pain tore through my body.

I cried out, collapsing to my knees as heat spread beneath my skin.

"Amelia!" my mother screamed.

The world around me blurred.

I could hear voices.

Footsteps.

Panic.

And beneath it all, another sound.

A voice.

Soft.

Ancient.

Female.

Mine.

Mate.

I froze.

No.

No, no, no.

Not now.

Not here.

The voice whispered again, stronger this time.

Mate.

My eyes darted frantically through the crowd.

Impossible.

I hadn't even had my first shift.

I wasn't supposed to find my mate until afterward.

"Who is it?" my mother asked desperately.

"I don't know!" I gasped.

The bond pulled painfully in my chest.

Closer.

Closer.

Until finally, it stopped.

My trembling gaze lifted.

And landed on him.

Alexander stood perfectly still at the foot of the mansion steps, his golden eyes glowing in the darkness.

"No..." I whispered.

His expression had gone pale.

For the first time in ten years, the mask on his face shattered.

"That's impossible," he said quietly.

The voice inside me practically purred.

Mine.

The entire estate fell silent.

My father's face drained of color.

"Take her inside," he barked.

Nobody moved.

I couldn't breathe.

Alexander took a single step backward.

Then another.

Fear.

For the first time in my life, I saw fear in his eyes.

"Alexander?" I whispered.

His jaw clenched.

"You should not have found me."

The words hit me like a physical blow.

"What?"

The wind howled around us as clouds parted, revealing the full moon overhead.

And beneath its silver light, Alexander's eyes burned like fire.

"My name," he said softly, "was never supposed to be the one your wolf called."

My father suddenly stepped between us.

"Get away from my daughter!"

Alexander's expression turned unreadable once more.

"I'm afraid," he said, his gaze never leaving mine, "it's a little too late for that."

And then, before anyone could stop him—

He disappeared into the night.