CHAPTER 2

"Where the hell is my tablet, Sam? I had a firewall to crack."

Samuel hauled the final cardboard box into the cramped kitchen, his spine popping like a string of firecrackers. "It’s in your backpack, Liam. And for the tenth time, stop calling me Sam. I'm your father."

"You’re my roommate until we get a bigger fridge," the five-year-old shot back. He hopped onto a stool, his small fingers already flying across a touchscreen with the precision of a surgeon. "This place smells like wet dog and cheap floor wax. Why are we here again?"

Samuel wiped a smear of grime from his forehead, leaving a streak of dust. "Because the Stain Pack doesn't look for people in the gutters. Now stay put. I have this interview with the firm downtown. If I land this, we get the big fridge."

"And the high-speed fiber?"

"And the fiber. Don't leave this room."

Samuel grabbed his blazer, ignoring the way his hand shook as he straightened his tie. Five years. Five years of hiding in the human outskirts, scrubbing the scent of the wolf kingdom off his skin with chemical soaps. He checked the mirror. The mark on his neck was buried under three layers of heavy-duty concealer and a high collar. As long as he didn't shift—which he couldn't anyway—he was a ghost.

"I'm serious, Liam. No hacking the neighbors. No shifting. Not even a growl."

Liam didn't look up from the blue glow of his screen. "Yeah, yeah. Go get us paid, Sam."

The humidity outside was a physical weight. Samuel dodged a puddle of oily water, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs. The city hadn't changed, but he had. Every shadow looked like a claw. Every idling engine sounded like a snarl. He checked his watch—ten minutes until the interview at Miller & Associates. He just had to be a normal human architect for forty-five minutes.

Outside the glass-and-steel monolith of the corporate district, a sleek, black Mercedes-Maybach sat like a predator in a tuxedo. It took up two spaces. It looked expensive. It looked arrogant.

Liam stood on the sidewalk, his backpack slung over one shoulder, staring at the car's shimmering paint job. He’d lasted exactly six minutes in the apartment before the boredom became a physical itch.

"Look at this thing," Liam muttered. He pulled a small, silver pocket knife from his pocket—a 'souvenir' he’d lifted from a hunter back at the border. "Thinking it owns the curb."

He knelt by the front tire. With a practiced flick of his wrist, he jammed the blade into the sidewall. Hssssssss. The sound of escaping air was music to his ears. He moved to the back tire. Hssssssss. "Hey! Kid! What the f**k do you think you're doing?" a voice boomed.

Liam didn't flinch. He didn't run. He just stood up, wiped the blade on his jeans, and looked at the mountain of a man in a black suit who had just stepped out of the lobby.

"Your car is blocking the pedestrian flow," Liam said, his voice cold and way too calm for a kindergartner. "I fixed the height for you."

The heavy rear door of the Maybach swung open. The air didn't just turn cold—it froze.

Adrian Stain stepped out.

The crowd on the sidewalk collectively held their breath. This wasn't just a CEO; this was the Alpha King. His presence was a jagged blade, cutting through the mundane noise of the city. He looked down at the deflated tires, then his gaze drifted to the small boy holding a knife.

"You have ten seconds to explain why I shouldn't throw you into the river," Adrian said. His voice was a low, vibrating growl that made the nearby shop windows rattle.

Liam crossed his arms. He tilted his head back, staring directly into the man’s face. He didn't cower. He didn't whimper. Instead, his pupils bled into a brilliant, piercing silver.

Adrian froze. His heart, usually a steady, frozen engine, slammed against his ribs. He didn't see a bratty kid. He saw a mirror. The boy’s eyes weren't just wolf eyes—they were his eyes. The exact shade of molten mercury that had defined the Stain bloodline for centuries.

"What is your name?" Adrian demanded, his voice cracking with a rare flicker of emotion.

"None of your business, Big Guy. You owe my dad a sidewalk."

Adrian grabbed the boy’s shoulder. The contact sent a jolt through his system—a familiar, electric spark. The boy’s scent was masked by cheap laundry detergent, but underneath... underneath was the scent of cedarwood and rain. The scent of the ghost who had marked him five years ago and vanished into the night.

"Nathan," Adrian barked without looking back at his Beta.

"Sir?"

"Secure the perimeter. Find the father. Now."

Samuel saw the crowd before he saw his son.

He had walked out of the interview feeling like a king—they’d loved his sketches. But as he turned the corner, the sight of the black Maybach and the circle of people made his stomach drop into his shoes. He saw the black suits. He saw the predator in the middle of it all.

"Liam!" Samuel screamed, lunging through the crowd.

He skidded to a stop, his breath hitching. Adrian was crouched down, his massive hand still resting on Liam’s shoulder. The boy looked bored, but Adrian looked like he’d seen a god.

Samuel’s collar felt like a noose. The moment his eyes locked with Adrian’s, the dormant soul-bond didn't just flare—it exploded. A white-hot needle of recognition stabbed through Samuel's brain. His knees buckled. The world tilted, the pavement rushing up to meet him until a pair of iron-strong arms caught him.

The scent of cedar and rain crashed over him, drowning out the city.

Adrian hauled Samuel upright, his fingers digging into Samuel’s waist, dragging him flush against a chest that felt like granite. He leaned in, his nose brushing against Samuel’s hidden collar, sniffing deep.

"You," Adrian hissed, his silver eyes burning with a terrifying, possessive light.

"Let go of him!" Liam yelled, stabbing his pocket knife toward Adrian’s thigh.

Adrian caught the boy’s wrist without looking, his focus entirely on the man trembling in his arms. He reached up, his thumb hooking under the edge of Samuel’s collar. With one violent tug, he ripped the fabric down.

The mark was there. Faded, but pulsing with a frantic, neon blue light in response to the Alpha’s proximity.

Adrian’s lips pulled back into a smirk that was all teeth and zero mercy. He leaned down, his breath hot against Samuel’s ear, making the smaller man shudder.

"I’ve been looking for my little thief for a long time," Adrian growled, his voice vibrating through Samuel’s entire body. "And look at that. You brought me a souvenir."

Samuel’s heart hammered a frantic rhythm. He looked at his son, then at the man holding them both captive. The city was loud, the people were staring, but all he could feel was the crushing weight of the Alpha King’s body and the realization that his five years of freedom had just turned into a life sentence.

"You're coming with me," Adrian said, his grip tightening until it bruised. "Both of you."