Chapter 1
The last book slid into place with a soft thud. Vale rolled her neck, feeling the ache pull down her shoulders. The library clock read 9:45 p.m.—fifteen minutes to closing. Around her, only a handful of students remained, heads bent low over their desks.
She pressed the PA button.
“The library will be closing in fifteen minutes. Please gather your belongings.”
The soft chime of closing music drifted across the empty hall.
Her phone buzzed. A text lit the screen:
“Vee! I’m coming home next week—and I’m bringing a mysterious specimen as a gift! You in?”
Her lips curved. Her oldest brother always had a flair for the dramatic, and more than enough chaos for the both of them. Compared to him—and the rest of her four unpredictable brothers—Vale was the calm one. The rational one. The eye in their storm.
Outside, early summer air brushed cool against her cheeks, like an unseen hand trailing across her skin. Moonlight poured over the street, turning it into a silver river. Far-off lights flickered like silent sentinels. She pulled her pale-blue cardigan closer and looked up—a flawless full moon hung in the navy sky, jeweled with a scatter of stars.
“Clear skies tomorrow,” she murmured, heading toward the lot.
Her car waited, quiet as a gray cat. She slid inside, checked the rearview, brushed her bangs back into place.
The engine purred to life. Jazz filled the cabin, each note like a feather skimming her ears. She hummed, fingers tapping a lazy beat against the wheel.
Headlights flared.
A black sedan cut into her lane. Hard.
Vale slammed the brakes. Tires shrieked. Her heart slammed back against her ribs.
Before her breath could steady, worse—an oncoming truck, swerving out of control.
Time thickened. The air felt heavy, caught in moonlight’s grip. She saw the driver’s wide, panicked eyes. Felt her own hands tremble on the wheel. Heard her pulse roar in her ears. In the glass, her face was a mask of fear.
”Am I going to die?“
Impact.
The world spun viciously. Her body lifted, then crashed down. The airbag exploded against her face. Acrid smoke. Gasoline sharp enough to burn her lungs. Her vision smeared into shadows and streaks of light. Screams rose and fell around her.
“Help…” Barely a whisper. Warm blood slid down from her hairline. The car had rolled onto its side; she hung from the seatbelt, every breath a knife in her ribs.
Then—a sound that didn’t belong to this world.
Metal tearing. Slow. Deliberate.
A shadow filled the shattered window. Moonlight crowned him in silver, edged with the darkness of a predator.
He bent, and a silver pendant slipped from his collar—a wolf and a rose glinting with strange light.
“Hold on.” His voice was deep, heat cutting through the cold. It wrapped around her like a heavy blanket, pulling her back from the cliff’s edge.
The door ripped away under his hands as if it were wet paper. Veins rose along his forearms. His eyes caught the moonlight, faintly luminous. Every movement—grace carved in muscle, like a statue come alive.
Long fingers, nails edged sharp, freed her buckle.
“You—” The word broke into a cough.
He didn’t answer. He lifted her as if she were weightless, something too fragile to bruise. In the reek of fuel, she caught a scent out of place—pinewood and wild air, something she felt she’d dreamed before.
“Don’t be afraid.” Warm breath against her ear. A steady rhythm beneath the words. “Your heart’s too fast. Ribs might be cracked.” The diagnosis was clinical, yet somehow poetic.
Sirens wailed closer. He set her gently on the roadside, under the moon’s pale watch.
She saw him then—jawline cut from stone, a fine scar crossing the bridge of his nose. Amber eyes that, for a breath, turned to gold. Dark hair fell across his brow, dangerous beauty softened by the light.
“Th… thank you…”
He only nodded, turned away.
“Wait! Your name—” Her hand closed on air.
“Look out!” He spun back, shielding her. A shard of metal grazed his arm, blood blooming through his sleeve.
“You’re hurt!”
He glanced at the wound, then at the oncoming flash of red-and-blue. “I’m fine.” And in the next blink, he was gone. Only a few drops of blood remained, glimmering faintly on the asphalt.
When the medics reached her, Vale was still staring into the dark.
“Miss, can you hear me?” A nurse’s voice cut through the hum in her ears.
“There was a man… he saved me…”
The nurse looked around. “You’re alone here. Maybe a passerby called it in and left. Let’s get you checked.”
As the nurse turned, Vale noticed something on the back of her hand—a faint mark, like the gentle press of a wolf’s teeth. It pulsed with her heartbeat, glimmering in the moonlight.
She spent the night in the hospital with a mild concussion and a few scrapes. By morning, she was discharged. The reports mentioned nothing about a rescuer.
The night was the same. The moon was the same.
But Vale knew—something had changed.
