The forged credentials feel like they're burning a hole in my jacket pocket.

I've done this before—infiltrated packs, corporate offices, private estates. Each time, I become someone else. A ghost wearing a borrowed skin. But my hands are steadier when I'm not lying to myself about why I'm really here.

The Thorne pack house is exactly what I expected: all dark wood and old money, the kind of architecture that whispers about bloodlines and power. The kind of place that makes rogues like me feel like dirt under expensive carpet. Which is fine. Dirt is invisible.

"First day?" The woman at the front desk doesn't look up from her computer. Her name tag reads Sandra, and her scent is honeysuckle and boredom. "You need to check in with HR. Third floor. Take the elevator on the left."

I nod like I'm a normal person doing normal things, not a woman with a contract to kill the alpha and a wolf inside my chest that's suddenly vibrating like a tuning fork.

The credentials are solid. Mara made sure of that—my sister, who's somehow thriving in this pack like a flower that finally found sunlight. When she'd texted me the job listing three weeks ago, I'd almost laughed. Almost.

They're hiring security contractors. You could get close. You could—

She hadn't finished the thought, but we both knew how it ended. With Darius Thorne bleeding out on expensive hardwood. With me finally putting a bullet in the past.

Except Mara also said she was happy here. That the pack wasn't what the stories claimed. That Darius was trying to change things.

I'd told her that happy was a luxury for people who hadn't watched their family burn.

The elevator smells like lemon cleaner and the ghost of a thousand anxious employees. I catch my reflection in the polished doors—ice-blue eyes that have seen too much, dark hair in its perpetual braid, the kind of face that's good at disappearing. My scar tissue is hidden under the long-sleeved security uniform I'm wearing, which is perfect. Less to explain.

Third floor. HR office smells like coffee and desperation. A young woman with bright red hair and an enthusiastic smile hands me a stack of paperwork and a security badge with my fake name printed on it.

Kira Vex. Security Contractor. Level 2 Access.

"You'll be working with the internal security team," she chirps. "They're great. Really welcoming. You'll probably meet some of them at lunch in the cafeteria, or—"

I stop listening. I've learned to hear without absorbing, a useful skill when you're constantly lying.

The pack house is massive. Corridors that branch into corridors, offices and training rooms and what looks like a common area where a few wolves are sprawled on couches, watching something on a massive television. They barely glance at me as I pass. Good. Invisible is the goal.

I'm mentally mapping exits when the temperature drops.

It's not subtle. It's like someone just opened a door to somewhere colder, somewhere deeper, and the cold is rolling in with purpose. My wolf goes rigid inside my chest.

No.

No no no no no.

I keep walking. Keep my breathing even. Keep my eyes forward like I'm just another contractor trying to find the break room.

The scent hits me next.

Cedarwood and wildfire.

Cedarwood and him.

I stop in the middle of the hallway. Actually stop, like someone's flipped a switch in my spine. My hands clench into fists, nails biting crescents into my palms.

This wasn't part of the plan. The plan was to observe, to learn the routines, to find the right moment when he was alone and—

"New?"

The voice is like gravel and honey, and it's coming from behind me.

Every survival instinct I have is screaming to run. To shift and bolt for the nearest window. To do anything except turn around and confirm what I already know with the part of my brain that's been screaming since that scent first touched my nose.

I turn around anyway.

Darius Thorne is standing about fifteen feet away, and he is exactly what Corvus's intel said he'd be: tall enough that the hallway seems to shrink around him, broad-shouldered in a way that suggests centuries of carrying weight that wasn't meant for one person. His dark hair has silver at the temples, and his amber eyes—

His amber eyes are looking directly at me.

My wolf surges forward like she's trying to claw out of my skin.

Mate.

The word doesn't come from my conscious mind. It erupts from somewhere older, something primal and ancient and so fucking unwelcome that I have to grip the wall to keep from collapsing.

"First day?" he asks, and there's something in his voice that's different from the HR woman's casual interest. There's an edge to it. A question underneath the question.

I've been trained to lie. To keep my face blank and my voice steady and my scent neutral. But right now, every system I've built is failing.

"Yes," I manage. The word comes out rough. "Just started."

He's moving toward me now, and I'm not sure if I'm watching him or if my wolf is, because suddenly I'm hyperaware of everything—the way his muscles move under his dark shirt, the way he carries himself like gravity bends around him, the way that scent gets stronger with every step and it's making my head spin.

This is bad. This is catastrophically bad.

"What's your name?" He's close enough now that I can feel the heat radiating off him. Close enough that my wolf is practically vibrating with recognition.

"Kira Vex." The lie tastes like ash. My actual name, at least, which was stupid. Corvus had warned me about that. Don't use your real name, it creates anchors. But I'd wanted this one thing, this one truth, even if everything else was fabrication.

"Kira." He says it like he's tasting it, and something in my chest twists so hard I have to suppress a gasp. "That's a good name."

His eyes are doing something strange. They're going lighter, the amber bleeding toward gold, and I know what that means because my own eyes are probably doing the same thing. The mate bond doesn't care about contracts or vengeance or the fact that I'm literally here to murder him.

The mate bond only knows recognition.

"I'm Darius." He extends a hand, and I realize with a spike of panic that he's giving me an out. A way to pretend this is normal. A way to not acknowledge what's happening in the space between us.

I should take it. A handshake is just a handshake. It doesn't have to mean anything.

I reach out anyway.

The moment my skin touches his, it's like touching a live wire.

Heat floods through my arm—not painful, but intense, overwhelming. It travels up my shoulder and across my chest and settles somewhere deep in my belly, warm and possessive and wrong. His hand is large enough to engulf mine completely, and his skin is hot, burning hot, and smells like cedarwood and smoke and something wild that makes my wolf keen with recognition.

His fingers tighten around mine, and I see it happen—the moment he realizes. The moment the bond sings its truth through his body the same way it's singing through mine.

His pupils dilate. His jaw goes tight. And his eyes—those amber eyes—lock onto mine with an intensity that makes it hard to breathe.

"Kira," he says again, and this time it's not a greeting. It's a claim.

I pull my hand away like it's on fire.

"I should—I have orientation," I say, and I'm already backing away, already calculating the distance to the nearest exit. "Nice to meet you."

He takes a step forward. Just one, but it's predatory. "Let me show you around."

"That's okay. I have—"

"I insist." And there's the alpha in his voice now, the command that's probably hardwired into his DNA. The kind of authority that makes wolves listen.

My wolf wants to listen. My wolf wants to roll over and expose her throat and accept whatever he's offering.

My brain, the part that's still functioning on the mercenary frequency, is already running through escape routes.

"Actually," I say, and I'm moving backward faster now, "I'm feeling a little dizzy. Probably the drive. I'll just find the break room and—"

"You're pale." He's genuinely concerned now, and that's somehow worse than the predatory intensity. "Let me take you to the medical—"

"I'm fine." I'm at the corner now, the hallway branching in three directions. "Really. I just need some water and some air and—"

I turn and walk fast, not quite running because running would draw attention, but definitely moving with purpose. Behind me, I can feel him. Not physically—he's not following, not yet—but energetically. The bond is like a string that's been tied between my ribs, pulling taut as I put distance between us.

The pack house is a maze, which is both good and bad. Good because I lose him quickly. Bad because I'm not sure which direction I'm going, and I end up in a corridor that smells like cooking and industrial kitchens.

The cafeteria.

I slip inside, grateful for the crowd and the noise and the fact that it's lunch time. There are maybe fifty wolves in here, scattered across tables, and they're all too focused on their food to notice one new security contractor having what looks like a minor breakdown in the corner.

I find a bathroom and lock myself in a stall.

My hands are shaking. Actually shaking, which hasn't happened since the night I escaped. Since the night I learned that some wounds don't close, they just scar over and wait for the right trigger to reopen.

Mate.

The word keeps echoing through my head, a siren song from the part of my brain I've spent seven years trying to suppress.

Shifters have mates. It's biology, chemistry, magic—nobody's really sure. But it's real, and it's rare, and when it happens, it's supposed to be the most important thing in the world. Two souls recognizing each other. Completion. Home.

Except I don't want a home.

I want vengeance.

I pull out my phone with numb fingers and type out a message to Corvus.

Problem. Bigger than anticipated. Need to discuss.

The response comes back within seconds.

The mate bond. Yes. This is why I chose you.

I stare at those words like they're written in a language I don't speak.

What the fuck does that mean?

It means, dear Kira, that you're not just here to kill him. You're here to destroy him. And what better way to destroy an alpha than to take the one thing that could save him? The mate bond is his lifeline. If you sever it—if you kill him while bonded—it will shatter the entire pack. They'll fall apart. And in that chaos, I'll be able to move my pieces into place.

I read the message three times, and each time, my wolf sounds less like a voice and more like a scream.

That's not—I didn't agree to—

You agreed to a contract. The details are secondary to the outcome. Now, I suggest you get back out there before he comes looking for you. And Kira? Try not to let him touch you again. The bond is already forming. Another contact like that and you won't have a choice about what happens next.

I delete the messages and sit in the stall for ten minutes, just breathing.

The mate bond is supposed to be beautiful. That's what the stories say. That's what the old wolves used to tell us before everything fell apart. It's supposed to feel like coming home after a thousand years of wandering in the dark.

But I'm a rogue. I've spent seven years making sure I didn't have a home. And now the universe is trying to give me one in the form of a man I'm contractually obligated to murder.

Funny. If you like that sort of thing.

I wash my hands in the bathroom sink and stare at my reflection. Ice-blue eyes stare back, and they're starting to bleed gold at the edges. My wolf is close to the surface, restless and angry and so fucking hungry.

I need to get out of here.

Not out of the cafeteria. Out of the Thorne pack house. Out of whatever Corvus has planned.

Except I can't do that, because Mara is here, and if I bolt, Corvus will know, and Corvus doesn't tolerate loose ends.

And because my wolf is already bonding with his, whether I want it to or not.

I step out of the bathroom and immediately regret it.

Silas Krane is leaning against the wall across from the bathroom door, and he's watching me with pale green eyes that see too much.

"You're the new security contractor," he says. Not a question. He's got copper-red hair and the kind of sharp handsomeness that would be attractive if it didn't come with an edge of cruelty. "Kira, right?"

"Right." I keep my voice neutral. "Didn't catch your name."

"Silas." He pushes off the wall and moves toward me, and I have to fight the instinct to back away. Showing weakness to a wolf like this is dangerous. "I'm the alpha's second-in-command. Which means I handle security. Which means you work for me."

He extends a hand, and I shake it briefly, careful not to linger. His scent is copper and ash, metallic and unsettling in a way that's completely different from Darius's cedarwood wildfire.

But his eyes are watching my face like he's trying to read something written on my skin.

"You met the alpha already," he says. Not a question.

"Briefly. He seemed busy, so I—"

"He's looking for you." Silas's smile is sharp. "He sent me to find you. Says he wants to personally oversee your orientation."

My stomach drops.

"That's not necessary. I'm sure you can—"

"I'm sure the alpha's preferences take precedence over what you're sure about." His smile doesn't change, but something in his eyes hardens. "Come on. He's in his office. Don't want to keep him waiting."

I follow him through the pack house because refusing would raise questions I don't want to answer. But with every step, the bond is pulling tighter, like a rope someone's tying around my ribs.

Silas is talking about security protocols and patrol schedules, but I'm not really listening. I'm trying to figure out how to survive the next conversation with a man who's supposed to be my target, not my—

Not anything.

That's the key. I need to remember that. Whatever the bond is trying to make me feel, whatever my wolf is trying to convince me of, it doesn't matter. I have a job. I have a contract.

I have seven years of screaming that needs to be answered.

Silas stops in front of a heavy wooden door and knocks once before opening it without waiting for a response.

The office is all dark wood and floor-to-ceiling windows, and Darius is behind a desk that's probably worth more than my annual salary. He looks up when we enter, and his eyes go gold immediately.

"Thank you, Silas," he says, his voice smooth. "That'll be all."

Silas doesn't move. "I should probably stay, familiarize her with—"

"That's an order, second."

The tension that crackles between them is sharp enough to cut. Silas's jaw tightens, but he nods and leaves without another word, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

Now it's just me and the man I'm supposed to kill, and the bond is singing so loud I can barely think.

"Sit," Darius says, and it's not a request.

I sit in the chair across from his desk, keeping my hands folded in my lap so he can't see them shaking.

"You ran," he says. No preamble. No small talk.

"I didn't feel well."

"You felt the bond." His amber eyes are fixed on me, and there's something in them that looks like hunger and hope and desperation all twisted together. "I felt it too. The moment I saw you."

I need to lie. I need to deflect. I need to do literally anything except tell him the truth.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I say, and it comes out cold. Mercenary-cold. The voice of someone who's good at making people bleed.

His expression doesn't change, but something flickers in his eyes. Pain, maybe. Or recognition.

"You're scared," he says quietly. "I can smell it. Fear and something else. Something that smells like—" He stops, and his hands clench into fists on the desk. "You're scared of me."

"I'm not scared of you." The lie is smoother this time. Practice makes perfect. "I'm just not interested in whatever this is."

"It's not a choice, Kira. The mate bond doesn't work that way. It's—"

"I know what it is." I stand up, and my voice is steady now, ice-cold and sharp. "And I'm not interested. I came here to do a job, and I'm going to do it. The fact that my wolf is having some kind of biological reaction to your presence doesn't change that."

His face goes very still.

"What job?" he asks, and his voice is different now. Harder. Suspicious.

I've made a mistake. A big one. The kind that gets people killed.

"Security contractor," I say quickly. "I came here to work security. That's the job."

He's studying me now like he's trying to see through my skin, and I can feel the moment he decides not to push. Not yet.

"We'll talk about this later," he says. "When you're ready to be honest with me."

"Don't hold your breath."

I turn and walk toward the door, and I make it almost all the way before he speaks again.

"Kira."

I stop. I shouldn't, but I do.

"The mate bond," he says quietly. "It's not something you can run from. It's not something you can kill. It's going to pull you back here, over and over, until you stop fighting it."

I don't turn around. I can't, because if I do, he'll see the truth written all over my face.

"Then I guess we're both going to be disappointed," I say, and I leave before he can respond.

The hallway feels like it's closing in on me. The bond is vibrating in my chest like a second heartbeat, and my wolf is clawing at my insides, desperate to go back to him, desperate to finish what the mate bond started.

I make it to the bathroom on the second floor and lock myself in a stall again.

My phone buzzes. A message from Corvus.

You're bonding faster than anticipated. Good. This will make it easier. Kill him within the week, or I start removing pieces of your sister. Starting with her fingers.

I read it three times, and each time, the words blur together.

My sister. Who's happy here. Who's found a home.

My target. Who's supposed to be a monster, but smells like home and looks at me like I'm the answer to a prayer he's been saying for seven years.

The contract. The vengeance. The screaming that's been in my head since the night I watched my family burn.

All of it, pressing down on me at once.

I flush the message and lean my head against the cool metal of the stall door.

Outside, somewhere in this pack house, a mate bond is forming whether I want it to or not.

And I have six days to decide if I'm going to honor my contract or save my own soul.

The wolf recognizes its own.

And I'm starting to realize that might be the most terrifying thing that's ever happened to me.