Chapter 2 Kieran

I turn back to my drink, swirling the last of the whiskey in my glass, letting the burn settle deep in my stomach.

This is a mistake.

Every girl like her walks in here hoping, praying, begging for attention from a wolf. F*ck*ng reckless.

I should send her away. Should make an example of her for wearing silver into my territory like a taunt. Should remind every human in this room exactly what happens when you play games with predators.

But my wolf won't let me look away.

Mine.

The word slams through my skull, primal and wrong. My wolf has never claimed anything. Not a territory beyond what duty demands, not a female beyond what my body needs. Claiming is for mated pairs. For wolves who've found their other half.

Humans can't be mates. The science is clear, has been since Exposure. The claiming bite releases a venom that's lethal to human biology. Instant rejection. Anaphylactic shock. Death within minutes.

So why the f*ck is my wolf snarling that word?

I down my drink, and Maddox catches my eye, nodding toward the girl. Sienna. Even her name tastes dangerous on my tongue.

She takes a breath as our eyes meet, steadies herself, then stands tall, looking confident even though she's in way over her head.

Maddox leads her through the club, past the dancers. Her lips are slightly parted, her body humming with restless, nervous energy.

She should fear me. She doesn't. And that sets my soul on fire.

Maddox stops a few feet away, clearly waiting for me to change my mind.

I nod to him, giving the silent order to leave us.

The bartender, Carlos, feels the shift instantly. The air thickens as wolves around us sense their Alpha's attention focusing. Then she steps forward.

Little Red Riding Hood in a black f*ck-me dress, all legs, with that silver necklace circling her throat like a dare.

She doesn't flinch under my stare. Every human who's ever been within arm's reach of me has learned to be wary. My father's death taught me that humans are either afraid of wolves or trying to use them. Usually both.

But not her.

"What's your name?" I ask finally, voice low, steady, laced with the kind of authority that makes lesser wolves drop to their knees.

She blinks once, lips parting like she wasn't expecting me to actually speak.

Instead of answering like a normal f*ck*ng person, she tilts her head and says, "Funny. I thought you already knew."

My patience thins.

I lean forward slightly, dropping my voice to something lower, something more dangerous. "I don't enjoy repeating myself."

Her smirk wavers. "Sienna," she answers smoothly, but not as effortlessly as before. "Sienna Hart."

Hart.

The name detonates in my chest like a grenade.

I keep my expression neutral, but my wolf snarls, recognition clawing through memories I've tried to bury. Hart. Dr. Lilian Hart. The geneticist who worked with my father twenty years ago, before everything went to sh*t. Before humans and wolves were supposedly working together toward "integration." Before my father died trusting the wrong people.

Before the Architects destroyed everything.

This Luna Chaser is Lilian Hart's daughter.

And she has no f*ck*ng idea of the target she's carrying on her back.

"I see you've been trying to get my attention, Sienna," I say, keeping it casual even as my mind races. "Here you go. So what are you gonna do with it?"

Her breath catches slightly, but she holds her ground. Then, with absolute, unflinching arrogance: "That depends, Alpha."

She lets the word hang in the air, deliberately slow, teasing.

"Are you planning to waste my time, or are you going to show me why I should have been chasing you instead?"

There's a slow, dark heat growing in me. Not just attraction—something deeper, more dangerous. The instinct to protect. To claim. To keep her away from whatever killed her mother and is now hunting my pack.

I pull her closer before I can think better of it. She gasps as I bring her between my legs, my fingers coiling around her wrist and pressing her hand against my chest. I can hear her heart racing.

I see her realize it. It's funny how a human thought they were in charge. She's exactly where I need her.

My hand holds her, fingers spread on her back.

I tell myself she's just a groupie. She is just a human playing games, regardless of her relation to Hart.

But my wolf ignores me. My wolf is repeating the word: Mine.

She sucks in an unsteady breath, her body warm and tense against mine. She still isn't pulling away.

"Brave, Sienna," I whisper, my voice deepening, my breath near her ear. "Or just careless?"

She doesn't tremble like prey. Defiantly, she meets my gaze, her dark pupils wide. "Maybe both, Alpha."

That mouth. Her lip-biting ignites something within me. It implies everything: challenge, invitation, and more. A desire to learn. The curiosity that killed her mother.

Her hand moves up my chest before I decide to react.

I move before she can blink. One second her hand is on me, and the next I catch her wrist and twist it behind her back, her body colliding with mine hard enough to knock the breath out of both of us.

Shock flashes across her face, but she recovers too d*mn fast.

Still so f*ck*ng stubborn. Just like her mother.

"You think I wouldn't notice this?" I murmur against her ear, my other hand touching the silver at her throat. The metal's faint burn reminded me of her. Human. Fragile. "Or were you hoping I would?"

She exhales, sharp and breathless. "Maybe."

She doesn't flinch.

She breathes out, her lips curling into a daring, infuriating, reckless little smirk. "Then show me, Alpha."

Before I could decide her fate, Maddox showed up, looking serious.

"Alpha," he says, voice low but urgent. "You should see this."

"What?"

He glances at the dark back corner, where the bass is muffled, where wolves are circling like something's wrong.

"It's not a fight," he murmurs low. "It's worse."

***

My chest turns ice cold. Maddox only interrupts when blood is involved. Or death.

I drop Sienna's wrist, fingers falling away as she burns.

Her pulse still hammers between us, tempting.

But my attention is already on the sharp, metallic scent cutting through the club. Blood. Wolf blood.

I push through the crowd. Wolves are already forming a barrier, their bodies tense, protective. Dr. Elara Vayne, our pack healer, is kneeling beside the body with two others. Her hands are slick with blood, her expression carved from stone.

"This is the third this month," she mutters. "Does anyone know who he was?"

Dario, my third beta left torn apart like a warning.

Yet, this isn't a dominance kill. His throat is torn, but the wound is incorrect. The blood has an unnatural, chemical smell.

This is the same signature as the others. The same impossible kill method.

The Architects are escalating.

Sienna's wide eyes are on me, with the Luna Chasers behind. She looks scared, but there's more. Like she's seen this before. Like she knows something.

Cora, my teenage cousin, whispers sneakily. "Who's the girl with the silver necklace? New toy? Thought you hated humans."

"Shut up," I snarl, then turn back to Elara. "Anything unusual? Any trace evidence?"

Her jaw tightened as she shook her head. Her eyes dart to a small puncture near Dario's shoulder. Injection site.

He was drugged before his death. Sedated a werewolf to dismantle him without a fight.

The same method they used on my father.

Dario's blood and Sienna's scent make this hunt personal.