Chapter 3: The Devil's Invitation

The convoy pulled away from the forest without a sound.

Rain streaked the tinted glass as Scarlett sat rigid in the back seat, her fingers twisted into the edge of Damian's coat like it was the only solid thing left in her world. The leather interior was warm. It should have felt safe. It didn't.

Her life had come apart in under an hour. The man she'd loved for eight years had thrown her away. Wolves she'd never known existed had hunted her through the trees. And now she was speeding through the night beside a stranger who somehow knew her mother's name.

She stole a glance at him. Damian sat with a folder of documents open on his lap, reading by the soft overhead light, his face unreadable. Cold. Controlled. As if none of the chaos around them touched him at all.

The silence stretched until she couldn't stand it anymore.

"You said you knew my mother."

He didn't look up. "I did."

"Who was she?"

He turned a page. "A remarkable woman."

"That's not an answer."

"It's the only one I can give tonight."

Frustration rose in her chest. "You want me to trust you, and you won't tell me anything."

He finally lifted his eyes to hers. "I want you to survive."

The words landed harder than she expected. "Those aren't the same thing."

"No. They're not."

"Then stop talking in riddles."

Damian set the folder down beside him. "Tell me something, Scarlett. Did Logan ever explain why he rejected you?"

Her chest tightened. "No. He just did it."

Something flickered behind his eyes before he turned toward the window. "Then he made the cruelest choice available to him."

"You know Logan?"

"I know of him."

"Did you tell him to reject me?"

His head snapped toward her, and for a moment the calm cracked. "No." The force behind the word startled even the guards up front. It lasted only a second, but she saw it — real feeling, breaking through.

Then the driver's voice cut through the intercom. "Sir. We're being followed."

The mood in the car shifted instantly. Damian tapped the armrest, and a small map lit up between the seats — three black vehicles closing the gap behind them.

"They found us faster than I expected," he said, eyes narrowing.

Scarlett twisted to look through the rear window. Two headlights became four, then six. Whoever was behind them wasn't slowing down.

The convoy surged forward.

She was thrown gently against the seat as the engine roared. Rain lashed the windshield, smearing the mountain road into streaks of silver and black. The driver gripped the wheel with both hands.

"They're closing the gap, sir."

Damian didn't flinch. "How many?"

"Three SUVs."

"Armed?"

"Most likely."

Scarlett looked between the men in the car. No one seemed afraid. They seemed ready — like this wasn't the first time someone had come after them.

One guard reached inside his jacket. Damian stopped him with a look.

"Not yet. They're waiting for us to panic."

"Who are these people?" Scarlett finally asked.

Damian stared out at the dark. "People who don't like unfinished business."

"I've never met them."

"You don't have to. They've been looking for you since before you could remember."

A chill ran down her spine. "That's impossible."

"I wish it were."

The car swerved. A black SUV surged up on the left, headlights flashing wildly.

"They're making their move," the driver warned.

The escort vehicle cut sideways, blocking the road. Metal screamed against metal, the sound rolling through the mountains. Sparks lit the dark as the attacking SUV spun off the wet asphalt, tore through a guardrail, and vanished into the ravine.

No one celebrated. No one even looked back.

The second SUV kept coming.

Damian reached into his jacket — not for a weapon, but for a small silver coin, worn smooth with age, a crescent moon on one face and a wolf on the other.

"What is that?" Scarlett asked.

He turned it over in his fingers. "A promise."

His phone buzzed before she could ask more. One line lit the screen: *SHE HAS BEEN FOUND.* A second followed: *THE COUNCIL KNOWS.*

His jaw tightened. For the first time since they'd met, she saw real worry in his eyes. He deleted both messages without answering.

The mountain road gave way to city outskirts. Skyscrapers rose against the clouds, their lights bleeding across wet streets — a world Scarlett had never seen. The convoy slowed before massive iron gates, where armed guards and facial scanners checked every car before the gates opened in silence.

Beyond them stood an estate that looked more like a palace. Fountains. A private garage full of luxury cars. Cameras on every corner.

"This is your house?" she asked, stunned.

"One of them."

The SUV stopped beneath a grand entrance lined with marble columns, where a row of staff waited in the rain. The moment Damian stepped out, every head bowed. No one moved until he did.

He turned and offered Scarlett his hand. She hesitated, then took it — his grip warm and steady as they climbed the steps together.

An elegant woman in her sixties met them at the door, dressed in dark emerald. She smiled at Scarlett, then turned to Damian.

"Welcome home, sir." Her eyes shifted back. "The room has been prepared... for Lady Blackwood."

Scarlett's hand slipped from his. "I'm sorry — who is Lady Blackwood?"

The housekeeper smiled. "You are."

Scarlett spun to face Damian. He didn't deny it. He only held her stunned gaze and said quietly, "We have a great deal to discuss."