Chapter 2: Intruder
Zara didn’t sleep.
She lay stiff in the oversized bed like a guest at her own funeral, eyes wide open, heart hammering. Every creak of the floorboards made her breath catch. Every distant howl sounded like it was coming closer.
She wasn’t sure what was worse—the silence, or the fact that she could still feel him.
Damon’s voice echoed in her skull like thunder trapped in a jar:
“You’re not just my mate. You’re a weapon.”
“They’ll kill you before you reach the woods.”
“I just need you to stop lying to yourself.”
She wanted to scream at the ceiling. Lie to myself? She couldn’t even remember her last name.
If Damon was telling the truth—and she wasn’t sure he was—then her life had already been stolen, buried, rewritten. If he was lying? Then she was trapped in the home of a lunatic Alpha who thought he owned her.
Either way, she was screwed.
Her fingers traced the edge of the bite mark on her neck. It hadn’t faded. If anything, it felt warmer. Like it pulsed with its own heartbeat.
“This is a nightmare,” she whispered into the dark.
But nightmares didn’t feel like this—cold silk sheets and burning skin, an ache in her chest that wasn’t fear or sorrow or even rage. It was hunger.
She hated it.
She hated how his presence made something in her come alive, even when every cell in her brain told her to run.
Her fists clenched.
She was done being a victim—even if she couldn’t remember what had made her one.
She swung her legs off the bed, padded across the room, and cracked open the balcony doors. The wind hit her hard, carrying the scent of pine, woodsmoke… and something else.
Something wrong.
Zara froze.
There was someone out there.
She couldn’t explain it, but the air shifted, like the moment just before lightning strikes. She squinted into the trees, but saw nothing.
Still, the hairs on her arms rose.
She backed away, heart racing, when a noise from inside the room stopped her dead.
A breath. Not hers. Behind her.
She spun.
A shadow slipped across the wall—a figure darting out of view. Fast. Silent. Not Damon. This one didn’t move like him.
Zara snatched the iron fireplace poker and gripped it tight, her palms slick with sweat. She edged toward the corner of the room.
Then the voice came. Low. Sharp. Male.
“Drop it.”
Her stomach dropped.
A man stepped out of the darkness. Slim build, sharp cheekbones, and eyes so pale they looked like fog. He wore a long coat, dark and tattered, and there was blood on his knuckles.
Zara didn’t move.
“Who are you?” she demanded.
The man tilted his head. “A friend. For now.”
“Where’s Damon?” she asked, glancing at the door.
“Downstairs, I assume. Probably brooding.” The man gave a crooked smile. “He doesn’t know I’m here. Let’s keep it that way.”
“You broke into a pack Alpha’s mansion,” she said, poker still raised. “That’s not ‘friendly.’”
“Neither is marking a girl who doesn’t remember him,” the stranger shot back. “You don’t know who you are, do you?”
Zara’s silence answered for her.
“Thought so,” the man muttered. “They erased everything. Your name, your wolf, your past.”
“You know about the curse?” she asked slowly.
He nodded. “And I know who did it.”
Her chest tightened. “Tell me.”
“I will,” he said. “But not here. Not with Damon listening through the walls.”
“He said you’d kill me if I ran.”
“I might,” the man said casually, “if you run in the wrong direction.”
“Why are you here?” Zara demanded, throat dry.
“To warn you,” he said. “Damon doesn’t want you to remember. He wants to keep you tame. But you? You weren’t built to be anyone’s pet.”
Zara’s grip on the poker faltered just slightly.
“Let me prove it,” the man said. He reached into his coat—slowly—and pulled out a necklace. Simple. Leather cord. A stone pendant shaped like a crescent moon, cracked down the center.
Her breath caught.
She didn’t remember it—but her body did. Her knees almost gave out.
The moment her eyes locked onto it, something inside her shifted. Heat flooded her chest. A scream rang through her mind—not out loud, but from within.
She stumbled backward, clutching her temples as white-hot pain tore through her skull.
Flames. Screaming. A hand slipping from hers.
“Run, Zara. RUN!”
She collapsed to her knees, gasping, vision swimming.
The stranger was beside her in a heartbeat, crouched low.
“Easy,” he murmured. “That’s just the first crack. You’re breaking through.”
“Who are you?” she whispered, voice ragged.
He hesitated. Then:
“My name is Killian. And I’m the one who tried to save you.”
The door slammed open.
Damon.
His power hit the room like a thunderclap—raw and unfiltered. His eyes locked on Killian, and his body tensed like a predator ready to kill.
“Step. Away. From her.”
Killian rose slowly, hands in the air.
“Relax, Alpha,” he said coolly. “We were just catching up.”
Damon was across the room in seconds. Zara scrambled to her feet, heart racing.
“You broke the truce,” Damon growled.
“I never agreed to it,” Killian shot back.
Zara stood between them now, chest heaving.
“Stop it,” she snapped.
Neither moved.
“You both want something from me,” she said. “Fine. But I’m done being dragged around like some prize. If I’m cursed, if I’m dangerous, if I’m yours or his—then someone better start telling me the damn truth.”
Damon’s fists clenched. “You don’t know what he is.”
“I know you’re not telling me everything either,” she said, turning on him.
He flinched. Just slightly.
Killian smiled. “She’s starting to remember.”
“Get out,” Damon growled.
“You’re already losing her,” Killian said, voice like poison. “You waited too long.”
And with that, he vanished—faster than her eyes could follow. One blink, and he was gone into the night.
The silence that followed felt heavier than before.
Zara backed away from Damon.
He didn’t chase her.
Instead, he walked to the necklace that had fallen to the floor and picked it up. His face was unreadable.
“You lied,” she said quietly.
“I protected you.”
“No. You chose what I got to remember.”
He looked up, his voice cold. “Because some memories are better left buried.”
She stared at him.
“I dreamed of fire,” she whispered. “Of someone telling me to run.”
His jaw tensed. “You were there. The night your pack burned.”
Her throat tightened.
“You watched your Alpha die,” he said. “Watched your home turn to ash. That stone”—he held up the necklace—“was all they found in the ruins. I kept it, hoping you’d come back.”
“I don’t feel like someone who survived something like that,” she whispered.
“You don’t feel like anything because you were hollowed out,” he said. “But you’re waking up now. And that’s what they’re afraid of.”
“Who’s ‘they’?” she demanded.
Damon hesitated. Then:
“The Council. And the ones they serve.”
Zara’s blood ran cold.
“This isn’t just about mates,” Damon said. “It’s about power. You weren’t cursed by accident. You were silenced—for a reason.”
She swallowed hard. “What reason?”