Page 14

14

DANTE

I can’t stop thinking about her.

She kissed me, told me her name, cracked herself open just enough for me to feel the truth humming underneath—and then she vanished again, like a goddamn shadow on the wind.

And I let her go. Again.

But this time, it’s not just want driving me. It’s need . Not lust. Not curiosity. It’s in my blood now. In my fucking bones.

I feel her even when I’m not trying to. A pulse just under my skin. A tug, like there’s a stitch between us—thin, frayed, but strong enough to choke. And every second I don’t know where she is, it pulls tighter.

I search the way I know how. Hunt.

The city’s loud tonight. Too many lights. Too many hearts beating too fast. I can barely think over the noise. But my instincts? They’re razor-sharp.

She was near the wards last night. That’s where the pull’s strongest. I track her magic like scent—faint, smoky, threaded with that cold sweetness only fae have. I’ve got it on my tongue. In my lungs. But it’s fading fast.

I cut through a narrow alley behind the church on 57th, heart thudding harder than I want to admit. And that’s when I feel it. Everything just... shifts. Wrong.

The air goes still. Too still. The sounds of the city vanish like someone hit mute on the world. And my gut clenches. Because I know this feeling.

Magic. Old. Predatory. Not hers.

Someone’s hunting me .

I pivot just in time to dodge the first strike—something silver flashing in the dark, slicing past my face with a hiss. It cuts through the brick wall like butter.

I growl, low and deep, the wolf rising instantly, hot under my skin.

“Come out and play,” I snarl, backing into a defensive stance. “Or are we doing this the coward’s way?”

Laughter drips from the shadows behind me. Cold. Male. Definitely not human.

“You smell like her,” the voice purrs. “Reek of prophecy and corruption.”

I turn toward the sound just as the attacker steps out of the dark.

Tall. Cloaked. Skin the color of spoiled milk, stretched too tight over long limbs. His eyes burn red—no pupils, just raw hate. Fangs like bone daggers gleam in the dark, and his fingers end in black claws, already slick with something dark.

“You’re late to this war, mutt,” he sneers. “And already bleeding.”

“Funny,” I say, cracking my neck, “you talk a lot for someone about to get wrecked.”

He lunges. Fast.

But I’m faster.

I shift partially—not full wolf, but enough. My hands become claws. My strength triples. I catch his blade mid-air, twisting it with a grunt and slamming my elbow into his throat.

He gags. Stumbles.

I spin, driving my boot into his chest. He hits the wall and cracks it. But he’s not down long.

Whatever he is—it’s not fragile. He comes back harder. Meaner. And I don’t hold back.

We trade blows—magic and fists and teeth. I catch his arm and snap it clean. He stabs me in the ribs with a blade I didn’t see coming, and everything goes white for a second.

Pain’s nothing new. But this? This burns. Poison.

I drop him with a punch that craters the asphalt, then stagger back, breathing hard, blood soaking through my side.

“You don’t even know what she is,” he hisses, dragging himself up. “You think you’re bonded ? She’ll break you.”

I growl low. “You talk about her gain and I’ll tear your jaw off.”

He smirks, blood in his teeth. “She’s marked by a god. You think that ends in love? This ends in ruin .”

Before I can move again, he vanishes.

No smoke, no shimmer. Just gone .

I drop to one knee, chest heaving. The blade’s still lodged in my side. My vision swims.

I rip it out, throw it to the ground, and press my hand to the wound. Blood slicks my fingers. Black at the edges.

Fuck.

That thing wasn’t sent to kill me. It was sent to warn me.

She’s being hunted. And now so am I.

I make it back to the loft just before sunrise, drenched in sweat and blood.

The second I slam the door shut, I slide down against it, panting.

I don’t know how long I sit there. Long enough for the blood to dry. For the pain to settle into something dull and constant. Long enough for the world to quiet again.

And all I can think about is her .

Liora.

The way she looked when she said her name. The way her lips tasted like fire and danger and truth . The way her shadows curled around my fingers like they knew me.

She didn’t tell me everything. Not even close. But whatever this is between us—it’s not normal. Not lust. Not even magic. It’s bonded, just like the shadow said. And her enemies know it. They’re coming for her.

And now they’re coming for me, too. Which means I’m out of time.

I drag myself to my feet and grab the emergency stash of healing salves, grimacing through the sting as I smear it over the poisoned wound.

The pain clears just enough for me to think.

If I want to find her again— protect her—I can’t just wait around.

No more hiding. It’s time to go hunting once I get cleaned up. And this time, I’ll be more prepared. I have to be.