the return

Chapter 3: The Return

Three years later.

I stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows of my penthouse office, watching the city lights flicker below like stars. My reflection stared back at me—a woman in a tailored black dress that hugged every curve, hair falling in sleek waves past my shoulders, heels that cost more than my entire wardrobe used to.

Not a single person would recognize the broken Luna I used to be.

My phone buzzed on the glass desk behind me. I didn't need to look to know it was another message from a company begging for my services. They always were.

"Ms. Cross, your four o'clock is here," my assistant Rachel's voice came through the intercom. "Mr. Lucian Volkov."

I turned away from the window, smoothing down my dress. Lucian Volkov. The name alone made most people nervous. Lycan. Mafia king. Ruthless bastard who controlled half the underground operations on the East Coast and wasn't shy about eliminating anyone who got in his way.

He wanted to hire me. They all did eventually.

"Send him in."

The door opened, and Lucian Volkov walked into my office like he owned it.

He was massive—at least six-foot-four, built like violence wrapped in an expensive Italian suit. Dark hair pushed back from a face that was all sharp angles and brutal beauty. His eyes were amber, the color of whiskey and fire, and they locked onto me with an intensity that would have made the old Amara drop her gaze and stammer.

I met his stare without flinching.

"Mr. Volkov. Please, sit."

He didn't sit. He walked slowly around my office, examining everything with the careful attention of a predator assessing territory. His presence filled the space, overwhelming and deliberate.

"Amara Cross," he said, his voice a low rumble with the barest hint of an accent. Russian, maybe. "The ghost in the machine. The hacker every corporation wants but can't find. You're younger than I expected."

"And you're ruder than I expected. I said sit."

His lips curved into something that wasn't quite a smile. He sat, sprawling in the chair across from my desk like a king on a throne. "I need your services."

"Everyone does." I settled into my own chair, crossing my legs. "What makes you think I'm available?"

"Because I'm willing to pay five million for three months of your exclusive time."

I didn't react. Three years ago, that number would have made me faint. Now it was just another Tuesday.

"I don't work exclusively for anyone, Mr. Volkov. My client list is diverse for a reason."

"I'm not anyone." He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, those amber eyes pinning me in place. "I own forty percent of the security contracts in this city. I have business interests that span six countries. And I have enemies who would very much like to see those interests destroyed. I need someone who can make my systems untouchable."

"You need a miracle worker."

"No. I need you."

The way he said it sent something hot sliding down my spine. I shoved the feeling away. I'd sworn off men three years ago. Sworn off anything that made me weak.

"Ten million," I said flatly. "Six months exclusive contract. Non-negotiable."

Most men would have balked. Negotiated.

Lucian smiled, and it was terrifying. "Done."

He stood and extended his hand across the desk. I rose and took it, meaning to shake professionally and let go.

The moment our skin touched, the world tilted.

The bond slammed into me like a freight train. Hot and electric and absolutely undeniable. My wolf, dormant for so long, roared to life inside me, screaming one word over and over.

MATE.

No.

No, no, no.

I yanked my hand back, but it was too late. I could see in his eyes that he felt it too. The recognition. The pull.

"You're a wolf," he said quietly, his voice dropping to something dangerous.

"That's not relevant to our business arrangement."

"Like hell it's not." He moved around the desk faster than I could track, suddenly in my space, towering over me. "You're my mate."

"I don't want a mate." The words came out sharper than I intended. "I don't want anything to do with bonds or fate or the Moon Goddess's sick sense of humor."

"That's not how this works."

"That's exactly how this works." I stepped back, putting distance between us. My wolf was going insane, trying to push forward, trying to get closer to him. I shoved her down brutally. "I've built a life without needing anyone. I'm not going back to being weak."

Something flashed in his eyes. Anger, maybe. Or challenge.

"Weak?" He laughed, but there was no humor in it. "You think accepting a mate makes you weak?"

"I think giving someone that kind of power over you makes you stupid." I moved back behind my desk, needing the barrier. "I learned that lesson the hard way. I'm not learning it again."

"You've been hurt before."

"That's none of your business."

"It is now." He placed both hands on my desk, leaning in. "You're mine, Amara. The bond doesn't lie."

"The bond can go to hell." I met his eyes. "You want to hire me? Fine. Ten million, six months, strictly professional. But the mate thing? That's not happening. Ever."

We stared at each other. The air between us was thick with tension and that damned bond pulling tighter with every second.

Finally, Lucian straightened. "I don't give up on things that belong to me."

"I don't belong to anyone."

"We'll see." He headed for the door, then paused. "One more thing. You've been invited to the Shadowmoon Pack's annual business gala this weekend. Are you going?"

My blood went cold. "How do you know that?"

"I know everything, Amara. It's how I stay alive." He glanced back at me. "I'm attending as well. Business with your former Alpha. I'll see you there."

He left, and I sank into my chair, my hands shaking.

Shadowmoon Pack. Damien. Sera. Maybe even Kai, though he'd be eight now. Old enough to have forgotten me completely.

I looked down at the invitation I'd been ignoring for two weeks, sitting at the bottom of my desk drawer.

The Shadowmoon Pack cordially invites you to our Annual Business Gala. Dress code: Black Tie. RSVP required.

I'd built an empire in three years. Created security software that Fortune 500 companies fought over. Made myself into someone powerful and untouchable. I had money, status, respect.

I wasn't the broken Luna anymore.

Maybe it was time Damien saw exactly what he'd thrown away.

I picked up my phone and called my stylist. "Valentina? I need a dress for Saturday. Something that will stop traffic."

"Amara, darling, all my dresses stop traffic on you."

"I need this one to cause a car crash."

She laughed. "Say no more. I have just the thing."

Saturday night arrived too quickly.

I stood in front of my bedroom mirror in a dress that was probably illegal in several states. Deep crimson, almost blood-red, with a neckline that plunged to my sternum and a slit up my thigh that ended somewhere dangerous. My hair was swept up in an elegant twist, showing off the diamond earrings that had cost more than Damien's car.

I looked expensive. Untouchable. Exactly what I'd intended.

The pack house was lit up like a palace when my driver pulled up. The same building where I'd spent five years being invisible. Where I'd been called inadequate and weak and replaceable.

I stepped out of the car and immediately felt eyes on me. Wolves had gathered outside, smoking and talking, and every conversation stopped.

I walked up the steps with my head high, my heels clicking against marble.

The ballroom was exactly as I remembered—crystal chandeliers, polished floors, pack members dressed in their finest. Old money trying desperately to look impressive.

I'd barely made it through the door when I felt him.

Damien.

His Alpha presence washed over the room like he was announcing himself. I turned slowly, deliberately, and there he was.

He looked older. Tired around the eyes. Still handsome in that cold, classical way, but something had dimmed. Sera was on his arm in a gold dress that tried too hard, her red hair styled in elaborate curls.

His eyes swept the room and landed on me.

I watched his expression change. Confusion. Then shock. Then something else I couldn't read.

He left Sera standing there and walked straight toward me, cutting through the crowd like they didn't exist.

When he reached me, he just stared. Up close, I could see the lines around his mouth, the gray starting at his temples.

Then he smiled. That same cold, superior smile I remembered.

"So you've finally come back," he said, loud enough that people nearby turned to look. "I knew you wouldn't last long out there. You were always too weak to make it on your own." He looked me up and down, and his smile widened. "I'm in a good mood today, Amara. Act appropriately, and I might consider taking you back. We could use a decent babysitter for Kai."

The ballroom went silent.

Everyone was watching now, waiting to see how the pathetic former Luna would respond to her Alpha.

I smiled.

It wasn't a nice smile.

"Tell me, Damien," I said, my voice carrying across the quiet room. "Does your mistress know you're this delusional? Or is that something you save just for special occasions?"

His smile froze.