Nikolai Volkov woke up to the taste of blood and the scent of cedar and leather.

His penthouse bedroom was dark, the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the glittering East Coast skyline barely filtering through heavy blackout curtains. Every muscle in his body screamed, yet the pain was… muted. Distant. Like a memory rather than reality.

He sat up slowly, the black silk sheets pooling around his waist. His torso, which should have been a mangled ruin after the ambush, was covered in fresh pink scars. Silver burns still tingled, but the fatal damage had been repaired with impossible precision.

*Someone had healed him.*

His wolf stirred beneath his skin, restless and agitated. The beast paced in circles, whining and growling at the same time, searching for something—for *someone*—it couldn’t find.

Nikolai swung his long legs over the edge of the bed and stood, all six-foot-four of raw, lethal power. He was naked except for a pair of loose black sweatpants someone had put on him. His raven-black hair was tousled, falling across his forehead as he stalked toward the full-length mirror.

The reflection that stared back was that of a man who had danced with death and won.

“Who the hell saved me?” he muttered, voice rough with disuse and that faint Slavic accent that grew thicker when his emotions ran hot.

The door opened without a knock. Beta Marcus Kane stepped inside—tall, broad-shouldered, with short dark hair and the calm, watchful eyes of a man who had survived countless battles at his Alpha’s side.

“You’re awake,” Marcus said, relief evident in his posture. “We almost lost you, Nik. The Silverfang pack hit hard. We took care of the survivors, but you… you were gone when we found the wreck site.”

Nikolai’s ice-grey eyes sharpened. “How am I not dead?”

Marcus hesitated. “We don’t know. When we tracked your location this morning, you were already stabilized and dumped near one of our safe houses. No note. No scent trail. Just… you. And this.”

He held up a phone. On the screen was a message from one of their shell companies’ acquisition teams.

*“Woman tried to sell the Moonshadow Medallion. Security flagged it immediately. She’s in holding downstairs.”*

Nikolai’s wolf surged forward so violently he had to grip the edge of the dresser to keep from shifting.

*The medallion.*

Fragments of memory slammed into him like lightning—cold rain, soft glowing hands, a gentle voice cutting through agony, warm hazel-green eyes filled with determination.

*“Stay with me…”*

He shook his head hard. The memories were hazy, distorted by pain and silver poisoning. But the medallion was real. And whoever had tried to sell it had to be the one who saved him.

“Bring her to me,” Nikolai commanded, voice dropping into a dangerous register. “Now.”

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Twenty minutes later, Lana Reed was escorted into the Alpha’s private receiving room.

She looked completely out of place among the dark luxury—black leather couches, original artwork worth millions, and floor-to-ceiling windows revealing the city sprawled below like a kingdom waiting to be ruled. Her cheap jeans were torn at the knee, her hoodie faded, and her long dark hair was messy from the night’s adventures. Yet her eyes gleamed with sharp, hungry ambition.

Two of Nikolai’s elite guards stood on either side of her. Marcus lingered near the door, arms crossed, watching everything.

Nikolai stood by the windows, wearing a crisp black button-down with the sleeves rolled up, revealing powerful forearms marked with fresh scars. He turned slowly, and the full weight of his Alpha presence crashed over the room.

Lana’s breath hitched. Even she, who had spent her life around dangerous men, felt the raw power rolling off him in waves.

“You have something that belongs to me,” Nikolai said quietly. The words were soft, but they carried the weight of a death sentence.

Lana swallowed, then lifted her chin with calculated courage. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the Moonshadow Medallion. It gleamed in her palm, still faintly warm.

“I… I saved you,” she said, voice trembling at first before growing steadier. “Last night, on the coastal road. There was an ambush. You were dying. I stopped my car, dragged you off the road, and used what little first aid I knew. I stayed with you for hours. When you woke up a little, you gave me this and said… you said I was yours.”

She stepped closer, eyes wide and pleading, selling the performance of a lifetime.

“I didn’t know who you were at first. I was just trying to help. But when I saw the medallion this morning, I thought… maybe I could sell it to get somewhere safe. I was scared. Those men who attacked you—they might come after me too.”

Tears welled in her eyes—perfect, desperate tears.

Nikolai stared at her for a long, heavy moment. His wolf was still restless, unsettled. Something felt… off. The scent memory in his mind was softer, warmer, laced with vanilla and jasmine and something that made his chest ache. But the woman in front of him carried the medallion. She had the story. And after years of betrayal and bloodshed, gratitude was the only softness he allowed himself.

He crossed the room in three powerful strides and took the medallion from her hand. The moment it touched his skin, a surge of energy ran through him, calming his wolf slightly.

“You saved my life,” he said, voice low and rough. “Most people would have run. Or finished me off.”

Lana shook her head, looking up at him with wide, adoring eyes. “I couldn’t leave you there to die.”

Nikolai studied her face—pretty in a street-smart, wild way. Not the polished elegance he had expected from someone who could wield healing power like that, but survival had its own beauty.

He reached out and cupped her chin, tilting her face up. Lana’s breath caught at the contact.

“Then you will never want for anything again,” he declared, loud enough for Marcus and the guards to hear clearly. “You are under my protection. From this day forward, Lana Reed is my honored guest. My savior.”

He turned to Marcus, silver-flecked eyes burning with resolve.

“Prepare the pack. Tonight, I will publicly declare Lana Reed as my future Luna. The woman who dragged an Alpha back from death deserves nothing less.”

Marcus’s eyebrows shot up, but he knew better than to argue. “As you command, Alpha.”

Lana’s lips parted in genuine shock, quickly masked by a trembling, grateful smile. Inside, her heart was exploding with dark triumph. From desperate thief to future queen of the most powerful pack on the East Coast in less than twenty-four hours.

Nikolai released her chin and stepped back, still holding the medallion tightly.

Yet even as satisfaction settled in his chest, his wolf continued to pace uneasily.

A faint, haunting memory brushed against his mind—soft glowing hands, chestnut hair dripping with rain, and a voice like warm silk whispering, *“You’re safe now… my Alpha.”*

He shook it off.

Gratitude was a dangerous thing. It clouded judgment.

And right now, Nikolai Volkov chose to let it blind him completely.

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