Chapter 1

Evelyn

The plate slipped from my fingers and shattered across the café floor. Glass scattered underfoot like fallen teeth. The room went quiet for a breath, then the manager's voice cut through.

"Grey! What the hell is wrong with you?"

"I've got it," I said, crouching to sweep the shards into my hands. Paper cuts bloomed along my palm; the sting was sharp and ordinary and grounding. Customers watched with the kind of curiosity that always felt like contempt.

"Clean it up, and don't make me come back there," he snapped.

I did it. I stuffed the jagged pieces into the bin and pulled my apron off so fast the tie snagged on my wrist. Three years of pretending I belonged to the world they lived in.

Outside, neon bled across puddles. I started for the bike, hands shoved deep in my jacket pockets, when the corner drunk stepped out and blocked my path.

"Hey there, wild girl," he slurred, reaching for my waist. "Finish your shift? Let me buy you a drink."

I stepped back, heart racing. "Not interested."

His fingers locked around my wrist. "C'mon, sweetheart. I've been watching you all night. Something about you... different. Dangerous." He leaned closer, his breath hot on my face. "I like dangerous."

"Let. Go." My voice dropped an octave, unfamiliar even to myself.

"Make me," he taunted.

So I did. My fist slammed into his chest, sending him stumbling into a table. Glass shattered as he crashed to the ground.

"She attacked me!" he shouted, drawing everyone's attention. "This crazy bitch attacked me!"

People backed away. Phones rose, screens glowing as they filmed. My manager's face appeared in the doorway, pale with fury.

"Police!" someone yelled.

Minutes later, I was shoved into the back of a squad car, the drunk grinning as though he'd already won.

The interrogation room smelled of bleach and stale coffee. I sat across from Officer Davis, my wrists rubbed raw from the cuffs.

"You're twenty-one?" he asked for the third time.

"Yes."

"No guardian? No family?"

"No one," I said flatly.

"The man is pressing charges, Miss Gray. We'll need to contact someone..."

I almost laughed. Who would come? I had no one. For years, I'd been alone, incomplete.

Then the door opened.

"I'm here for Evelyn Gray."

Her voice froze me harder than the cuffs ever could. Victoria Grey. My mother.

She strode in, heels clicking, perfume sharp with cedar and wolf musk. Officer Davis glanced at the paperwork and quickly slid it toward her. She signed without hesitation.

The moment we stepped outside, her hand cracked across my face.

"Three years," she hissed. "Three years of silence, and this is how you show your face again? Dragged out of a human police station like a common thug?"

I touched my cheek, stunned. "It wasn't—"

"Don't speak." Her eyes cut through me like blades. "You were expelled for a reason. Don't think exile made you wiser. You're still a stain. And stains… stay hidden."

She checked her watch, bored already. "Your grandfather wants you home. Don't make me waste more time cleaning up your messes."

The truth hit me. "So that's why you're here. William sent you."

Her expression didn't change. "Lock yourself up tonight," she said. "It' s Full moon today."

I spat a laugh, "You know damn well my wolf left me three years ago."

I walked to my Ducati. The engine snarled when I started it. I left her on the sidewalk and pushed the bike until the city lights blurred into one smear of yellow and red.

The road to the outskirts was an open throat. I ran it hard, the wind hauling at my jacket. The moon hung heavy and white above the trees.

Three years. Three years I'd endured this emptiness. Every full moon, I'd waited for my wolf to return, desperate to prove that white wolves weren't cursed like everyone believed. But every time, nothing happened. Just me, alone with the moon's mockery.

I gunned the engine, trying to drown out the thoughts that always came with the lunar pull. The faster I rode, the less I could think about—

A shadow sprawled across the asphalt.

A man lay against the shoulder, his shirt dark with blood. Two figures moved around him, guns catching the moonlight. Silver glinted.

Hunters.

I thumbed the kill switch and dropped the bike into the trees. I moved with a precision my body remembered before my mind did. The first hunter never saw me coming. I swung hard, the branch cracking against his skull. He dropped with a grunt, but the second already had his gun raised.

The silver bullet hissed past my ear, so close the heat burned my skin. I hit the dirt, rolling as the next shot split bark from the tree behind me. My heart slammed, every nerve screaming too slow.

He leveled the barrel again—this time at my chest.

My body moved before thought. I lunged, slamming my shoulder into him. The gun fired as we went down, the silver round carving sparks off stone inches from my head. I tore the weapon from his hands and hurled it into the trees. He hit the ground, groaning, out cold.

Breathing hard, I went to the wounded man.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, with the kind of presence that made the air feel heavier. Definitely not human. A smell hit me—pine sap, damp earth, something alive and sharp. I pressed my fingers to his side to find the wound. Metal seared against palm; silver had cut him deep.

He jerked. His hand flew up and gripped my wrist.

A white-hot pulse shot through my arm, like someone struck a match against my bone. My vision pinched to a point, then expanded into a wash of silver. Pain flared along my knuckles—not bite, not ordinary pain, something that felt like a key turning in a lock.

I pulled my hand back reflexively.

My nails had split. Skin tightened and fur threaded across the back of my hand in a breath. The shock of it stole any words I might have had.

I looked down. The fingers were changing—knuckles elongating, pads forming, nails curving into hooked points. The skin on the back of my hand bristled. It happened in a blink, each shift like a stone falling into place.

I let out a sound—half a curse, half a gasp. The man's eyes, storm-grey despite the blood, opened fully and locked on mine. For a second his gaze burned through everything like a torch.

"Mine," he rasped, and his voice came from somewhere deep and wet.

Then he went still. Unconscious, heavy in my arms.

"What the hell is happening to me?" I stared at my claws, heart racing. "My wolf disappeared three years ago... and what did he mean by 'mine'?"