I smell him before I see him. Cedar and storm, a scent that tugs at the wolf buried deep in my bones. My pulse races as I clutch my champagne flute. The Manhattan ballroom's golden light catching my auburn hair like it's on fire. The emerald mask hiding my face feels like a flimsy shield against the secret swirling around me. I'm Leora Dawn, junior editor, human to the world, but a latent wolf hiding from my past. Tonight, I'm here because Saraphene Veil, my viper of a boss, decided I'm her proxy for some highstakes masquerade auction. The target? A ring called the Lunar Veil. She says it's for a book, but her amber eyes lied.

The ballroom drips with wealth, chandeliers glittering, velvet drapes heavy as the air itself. I adjust my silk gown, its high slit teasing the cool air against my thigh, and try not to fidget. I'm not built for this world of elites, but Saraphene's threat of firing me if I don't play along keeps my chin high.

"Lost little lamb." A deep voice rumbles close enough to make my skin prickle. I turn and there he is. Ethan Wolfspane, the banished alpha who rules New York's underworld. His gold-plated mask doesn't hide the storm in his gray eyes or the scar on his jaw that tells a story I don't want to know. His scent wraps around me, wild and dangerous, waking something in me I've kept caged for years.

"I'm no lamb," I snap, my voice sharper than I feel. "And you're blocking my light."

His lips twitch. A smirk. "That's all trouble. Old for someone who smells like she's hiding."

My heart stumbles. He can't know I'm a wolf. Latent, broken, but still one of them. I'm here to bid, not banter. "Move along, Wolf Spain."

"Bid on what?" His gaze drops to my hand where my fingers grip the flute too tight. "The lunar veil. That's a dangerous game for a human."

"I am not." I bite my tongue, cursing myself. "I'm here for my boss. That's all you need to know."

He leans closer, his breath warm against my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. "Careful, Leora. That ring's more than a trinket. It's a key to power you can't imagine."

I step back, my heels clicking on the marble floor. "What are you? The noble hero warning me out of kindness?"

His laugh is low, bitter, like he's tasted too much pain. "I'm no hero, but I know a trap when I see one. Stay away from that ring, or you'll regret it."

I open my mouth to retort, but a new voice cuts through, cold as ice. "Brother." I freeze as a man in a silver mask steps forward, his blue eyes glinting with venom. Gideon Wolfspane, Ethan's brother, and the Iron Fang pack's alpha. "Slumming it with the help."

Ethan tenses, a growl rumbling in his chest. "Walk away, Gideon. This isn't your night."

Gideon's smile is a blade, sharp and cruel. "Oh, but it is. The lunar veil will be mine, and so will this city."

My stomach twists as their eyes lock. The air crackling with danger. Ethan's warning wasn't just talk. This ring is trouble, and I'm caught in the middle. I'm no lamb, but I've just walked into a den of wolves, and there's no turning back.

"Miss Dawn," a server says, handing me a note. It's from Saraphene. "Bid on the ring. Don't fail me."

I crumple it, my eyes flicking between Ethan and Gideon. My wolf, silent for years, stirs, whispering one word. *Run*. But I don't. I raise my chin, meeting Ethan's gaze.

"I'm not here to play your games," I say, my voice steady despite my pounding heart. "Either of you."

Gideon chuckles low and dark. "We'll see, little one." As he stalks away, Ethan grabs my arm, his touch firm, but not cruel.

"You're in over your head," he says, his voice urgent. "Walk away now."

I yank free, my sarcasm a shield. "Thanks for the tip, but I've got a job to do. Stay out of my way." His eyes darken, but he lets me go. The auctioneer's voice calls for the next lot, and I move toward the stage, my heart racing. The lunar veil is more than a ring. It's a spark, and I'm about to light a fire I can't control.

***

Ethan POV. She's trouble, and I can't look away. Leora Dawn weaves through the masquerade's glittering crowd. Her auburn hair glowing like a beacon in the chandelier's light. Her scent—wild flowers and something deeper, like a wolf trapped in human skin—hits me like a punch. I shouldn't be here. Shouldn't care. But I can't stop watching her. I'm Ethan Wolfspane, the exiled alpha, and I've got no business getting tangled with a woman who's clearly in over her head. But that ring she's after, it's the key to everything I've fought for and everything I've lost.

I lean against a column, my gold mask discarded, the scar on my jaw itching under the weight of old wounds. Leora's defiance draws me, her green eyes flashing with a fire that says she's no one's pawn. But she's bidding on the lunar veil, and that's a mistake that could cost her more than her life.

"You're staring." A voice purrs, sharp as a blade. Saraphene Veil, the publishing czarina with too many secrets, glides up, her amber eyes glinting. "She's not your type, Wolfspane."

"And you're not my keeper." Veil, why is she here?"

Saraphene sips her champagne, her smile calculated. "Leora is my errand girl. She's bidding on a ring for a book project. Nothing you'd care about."

I don't buy it. Saraphene's too cunning to throw millions at a prop when that ring's tied to a prophecy. "You know it, don't you?"

Her eyes narrow, but she laughs. "You wolves and your fairy tales. Stay away from her, Ethan. She's mine."

"She's no one's," I snap, my wolf growling inside me. "And you're playing with fire."

Saraphene shrugs and glides away, but her words linger. Leora is not just a human caught in a game. She's a latent wolf. Her scent screaming it. I should walk away, keep my distance, but my wolf won't let me. She's trouble, and I'm already in too deep.

The auctioneer's voice booms. "Lot 17, the lunar veil." I turn, watching Leora raise her paddle, her posture defiant. The ring glints under the lights, its crescent moon diamond calling to my wolf. It's tied to a prophecy. A healer and true alpha uniting the packs. Gideon wants it to control them. I want it to stop him.

Leora's voice rings out. "10 million." My jaw tightens. She's stubborn, reckless. I catch her eye, mouthing "stop," but she ignores me. Her chin high. The bids climb. And then Gideon's voice cuts through. "15 million."

The room goes silent. Leora's face pales, but she doesn't back down. She's brave. I'll give her that, but she's dancing on a knife's edge. I move toward her, my instincts screaming to protect her, even if she hates me for it.

"Leora," I say, low. As I reach her, "You need to stop. Gideon's not playing."

She spins, her eyes blazing. "I don't trust you, Wolfspane. I'm doing my job."

"Your job can take your life." I growl, grabbing her wrist. Her pulse races under my fingers, and her scent floods me, making my wolf howl. "The ring's tied to a prophecy. Gideon wants it to control the packs. You're in his crosshairs now."

She yanks free, her voice sharp. "Then why are you here? What's your game?"

"I'm trying to stop him," I say, my voice rough. "Help me get the ring and I'll keep you safe."

She laughs bitter. "Safe with you? You're the king of the underworld." I'd rather take my chances."

Before I can argue, she turns back to the auction, but it's over. Gideon's won. Her shoulders slump, and for a moment, I see the weight she carries. Something I know too well. My banishment. Gideon's betrayal. The curse that weakens my wolf. It's all led me here to her.

"Come with me," I say, softer now. "We need to talk somewhere safe." She hesitates, her eyes searching mine.

"Why should I trust you?"

"You shouldn't," I admit, my scar itching, but you're out of options." She glares, but nods, following me into the night. My wolf hums, sensing her closeness, but I push it down. Leora Dawn is a complication I don't need, but I can't let her go.

***

The alley's cold air bites my skin as I followed Ethan out of the ballroom, my heart pounding like a trapped bird. Ethan's warning about the lunar veil echoes in my head, but it's Gideon's icy smile that chills me. I'm in over my head, and I hate it. I'm the only survivor of the Starlight Pack's massacre, and I've spent 17 years hiding my wolf to stay alive. But Ethan's cedar scent follows me, stirring something I can't ignore.

"I can handle myself," I snap, crossing my arms to hide my trembling hands. "Why do you care?"

He steps closer, his scent wrapping around me like a storm. "Because you're in danger. Gideon wants the lunar veil for a prophecy. It could destroy the packs."

"A prophecy?" I scoff, but my pulse races. My wolf, silent for years, hums at his closeness. "Sounds like a bedtime story."

"It's real," he growls, his voice low. "And you're not human. I smell your wolf." Blatant. But there, my breath catches. No one's ever known.

"You're wrong," I whisper, stepping back.

"Am I?" His hand grazes my arm, sending a jolt through me. "You feel it, don't you? The pull."

I yank away, my heart hammering. "Stay out of my head, Wolfspane."

"I'm trying to keep you alive," he says, his voice softening. "Work with me. Help me get the ring before Gideon does."

"Why should I trust you?" I demand, my sarcasm a shield. "You're a banished alpha, hardly a knight in shining armor."

His hand lifts, firm and unyielding, catching my chin and forcing me to meet his gaze. His eyes lock with mine. "I'm no knight," he says, his eyes darkening, "but I'm not my brother. Help me and I'll protect you."

Before I can answer, a growl rumbles from the shadows. Three wolves, eyes glowing, stalk toward us. Gideon's enforcers. Ethan pushes me behind him, his body a wall of muscle. "Run," he snarls.

My feet freeze. My healer instincts, buried since my pack's death, flare, screaming to stay. I grab a pipe from the ground, my hands steady despite my fear. "I'm not running."

Ethan glances back, surprise in his eyes. "Stubborn woman."

"Deal with it," I retort, swinging the pipe as a wolf lunges. Ethan shifts, his black fur a blur, tearing into another. We fight together, my movements clumsy but fierce, driven by something deeper than instinct—trust, maybe, or something more.

When the last wolf flees, Ethan shifts back. Blood on his torn shirt, but not his. He grabs my shoulders, his eyes searching mine. "You okay?"

I nod, my breath ragged. "Why didn't I run?"

"Because you're not a coward," he says, his voice rough. "But you're in this now, Leora. No going back."

My phone buzzes. Saraphene. "Where are you?" she demands. "The ring's gone. Fix this."

"I'm handling it," I lie, keeping my eyes on Ethan. He's staring back at me. That same mischievous grin tugging at his lips like he knows exactly what I'm not saying. He's trouble, but my wolf hums with him. And I know I'm not just fighting for the ring. I'm fighting for myself.

"Let's go," I say, my voice steady. "We get that ring, or we're both dead."

Ethan nods, a spark of respect in his eyes. "Together." Then, as we disappear into the night, my heart races not just from danger, but from the pull of him. I'm Leora Dawn, and I've just chosen a side. Heaven help me.

***

The safe house smelled of dust and pine, a faint tang of rust clinging to the air from the old pipes. I paced the creaky floorboards, my boots echoing in the dim room lit by a single flickering bulb. Leora sat on a worn couch, her emerald gown torn at the hem from our escape, her auburn hair spilling over her shoulders like a wildfire. Her green eyes tracked me, sharp and guarded, but I caught the tremor in her hands. She was rattled, and my wolf hated it. Wanted to pull her close, shield her from the storm we just walked into. But I kept my distance. Trust was a fragile thing, and I'd learned the hard way not to force it.

"Stop pacing," she said, her voice cutting through the silence, laced with that sarcasm she wielded like a blade. "You're making me dizzy."

I stopped, leaning against the wall, my scar pulling tight as I forced a smirk. "Worried about me, hardly," she shot back, crossing her arms. "But if you wear a hole in the floor, we're sleeping on concrete."

Her defiance sparked something warm in my chest despite the blood still drying on my sleeve from the fight. Those enforcers—Gideon's wolves—had been too close, too bold. My brother was tightening his net. And Leora was caught in it. Whether she admitted it or not, her scent, wild flowers and moonlight, filled the room, tugging at my wolf. Faded mate or not, she was a complication I couldn't afford. Yet here I was, risking everything to keep her safe.

"Talk to me," I said, softening my tone. "What happened back there?"

"You didn't run." Her jaw tightened, her eyes flicking to the floor. "I told you I'm done running."

"Why?" I pressed, stepping closer. "You've been hiding your whole life. What changed?"

She glared up at me, her green eyes blazing. "Maybe I'm tired of being a ghost. Or maybe I just didn't want to leave you to get torn apart. Pick one."

My wolf growled, pleased at her fire, but I pushed it down. "You're not a ghost, Leora. You're a wolf, latent or not. I feel it. And so do you."

"Stop it," she snapped, standing, her petite frame barely reaching my chest. "You don't get to decide what I am."

"I'm not deciding," I said, holding her gaze. "I'm telling you what I see. A woman who fought beside me like she was born for it. A healer who's more than she lets on."

Her lips parted, but no words came. Pain flickered in her eyes, raw and heavy, and my wolf whined, urging me to close the distance. I stayed put, giving her space.

"Tell me about your pack," I said, my voice low. "What happened to them?"

She sank back onto the couch, her hands twisting in her lap. "Why do you care?"

"Because I know what it's like to lose everything," I said, my scar burning as memories of Gideon's betrayal clawed at me. "And because you're not alone in this anymore."

Her laugh was bitter. Barely a sound. "You're wrong. I've been alone since I was 10. My pack, the Starlight Pack, was massacred. Iron Fang wolves tore them apart. My parents, my friends, gone. I survived because I couldn't shift. They thought I was human, worthless, so they left me in the blood."

My chest ached, my wolf howling for her pain. I sat beside her, close enough to feel her warmth, but not touching. "I'm sorry," I murmured. "No one should carry that alone."

"I don't need your pity," she said, but her voice cracked. "I survived. I built a life. I don't need anyone."

"Then why did you stay and fight?" I asked, my hand brushing hers, the contact sending a jolt through me. "You could have run. You didn't."

She looked at our hands, her breath hitching. "I don't know. Maybe I'm just tired of losing."

Silence settled, heavy but not empty. Her scent wrapped around me, grounding my wolf. I reached into my jacket, pulling out a tattered journal I'd stolen from Gideon's safe months ago. "I found this," I said, handing it to her. "It's about the moon, a rare wolf line tied to the lunar veil. There's a name in it. Your mother's."

Her eyes widened, her fingers trembling as she opened the journal. "Allar Dawn," she whispered, tracing the faded ink. "This can't be right."

"It is," I said. "Your mother was a moonborn priestess. The prophecy says a healer wolf born of her line will unite the packs with a true alpha. That's you, Leora."

"No," she said, slamming the journal shut. "I'm nobody. I can't even shift."

"You don't need to shift to be powerful," I said, my voice firm. "Your healer gift is real. I saw it in the alley. The way you moved, the glow in your hands."