LOGINAria Vale stumbles into the wrong place at the worst possible time and witnesses a secret no human should survive; a werewolf shift in the middle of a biker turf war. The Blackfang Reapers’ alpha, Damon Black, should erase her, but something about her sparks a reaction he can’t explain. When Aria proves immune to his alpha command, keeping her alive becomes as dangerous as killing her. Now she’s trapped inside the most feared wolf pack in Ravencrest, hunted by a rival alpha who claims her as his blood. As Damon and Aria clash, burn, and collide, the truth about her identity threatens to ignite a city-wide war. He shouldn’t want her. She shouldn’t trust him. But fate doesn’t care about rules….and some secrets were never meant to stay buried.
View More(Aria POV)He doesn't let go.The yard is completely still. No wind. No distant engine noise. Just the two of us standing in the dirt with his hands around my wrists and the aftermath of what I said sitting between us like a lit fuse.I hold his gaze. "What happens if I don't pull away?"His jaw tightens. Something moves through his eyes, fast and controlled, the way a current moves under ice, present but contained. "Then I make you."The words land wrong. Wrong in the specific way that flips a switch somewhere low in my chest, not a warning, not a threat, just a line that should not have sounded like that, delivered in that particular register, at this particular proximity.I move first.My free hand grabs the front of his shirt, fingers twisting into the fabric, and I pull him down.His mouth hits mine hard.For half a second he goes completely still, hands frozen on my wrists, body arrested mid-breath like his entire system just short-circuited. I feel the exact moment his control
(Aria POV)He steps back. I don't.For three full seconds I just stand there, in the middle of his locked office, with the heat of that almost-moment still sitting on my skin like a second layer, and then something in my chest that has been coiled tight since the council chamber decides it has had enough of being still.I walk out.Not dramatically. Not fast. Just out, through the side door, down the corridor, and away from the specific gravitational pull of Damon Black and his one deliberate step and the way his jaw was working like he was chewing through something he refused to say out loud.My room feels too small. The hallway feels too loud with the ambient noise of the compound settling back into its morning rhythm, boots on concrete, low voices, the distant metallic complaint of something being worked on in the garage bays. I pass my door without stopping.The training yard is empty.I push through the side gate and stop in the middle of the dirt oval, breathing cold air, and st
Aria POV)The gates slide open at 7:19 a.m. Rook’s SUV rolls through first. Ours follows close. The compound looks the same on the surface: same tall concrete walls topped with razor wire, same low concrete buildings arranged in a rough square, same faint smell of motor oil and gunpowder drifting from the garage bays. But the difference hits me the second we clear the entrance. Guards stand at double the usual posts. Two at each corner tower instead of one. Rifles held low but fingers near triggers. Eyes track us from the moment the tires hit gravel. No casual nods. No relaxed postures. Just alert stares that follow every window of both vehicles until we park.I step out behind Damon. Cool morning air brushes my face. Lena climbs down from Rook’s SUV, duffel already slung over her shoulder. She glances around once, takes in the extra bodies with rifles, the tense shoulders, the way every pair of eyes flicks toward her then away.“Cozy welcome,” she mutters.Rook nudges her toward the
(Aria POV)I find Rook in the garage at 5:42 a.m. He’s already got both SUVs backed out of the bays, hoods up, checking fluids with a flashlight clenched between his teeth. Lena stands on a milk crate beside the black one, stuffing a go-bag with the snacks she unpacked four hours ago.“Chips go in the side pocket,” Rook says around the flashlight. “Pretzels in the center console. Gummies stay with you. Rules.”Lena rolls her eyes. “You’re worse than my mom on road trips.”“Your mom ever outrun a tail?”“No comment.” She zips the bag. “Where do the energy drinks go?”“Glove box. Don’t drink them all before we clear the city limits.”I lean against the doorframe. “You two move like you’ve done this a hundred times.”Rook glances up. “Hundred and twelve. Give or take.”Lena hops down from the crate. “He’s exaggerating.”“Quiet, chaos agent.”She sticks her tongue out at him.Damon appears in the open bay door. Black tactical jacket zipped to the throat, small duffel slung over one should


















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