The black SUV pulled into the underground parking garage like a shadow slipping into the darkness.
Elara sat stiffly in the backseat, hands clutched in her lap, the silver chain of her necklace wrapped tightly around her fingers.
Every part of her wanted to bolt. Her instincts screamed danger, but her pride and desperation anchored her in place.
Dominic sat beside her, silent and brooding.
Since the ceremony, he hadn't said a word—not about the mark, not about the blood contract they'd both signed, and definitely not about the fact that they were now, in the eyes of both humans and wolves, mated.
Fake. That was what this was supposed to be. But the burn on her collarbone told a different story.
"We're here," Dominic said, voice low, rough like gravel sliding down stone.
The driver opened the door, and Elara stepped out onto polished concrete. Her heels echoed like gunshots as they approached the private elevator. Dominic placed his palm against the biometric scanner. A smooth ding and the door slid open.
"Top floor only?" she asked, trying for casual.
He didn't answer. Instead, he watched her with eyes like storms before saying, "You'll be safe here."
The elevator's ascent was silent but heavy with tension. When the doors opened, Elara gasped.
The penthouse was... not what she expected.
Dark, luxurious, and filled with shadows that seemed to watch her. Floor-to-ceiling windows wrapped around the living room like glass arms, showing off the skyline of Arclight City, its neon veins pulsing below them. The air smelled of pine, firewood, and something raw—him.
Everything in the space was masculine. Sleek black leather couches, a fireplace large enough to walk into, and bookshelves filled with ancient tomes and artifacts that buzzed beneath her skin.
Dominic didn't speak as he moved past her, loosening his tie and disappearing down the hall.
Elara stood frozen at the threshold, heart pounding. She rubbed the skin beneath her necklace, where the mark still tingled, warm and stubborn.
"This way," his voice called.
She followed, swallowing past her nerves.
The hallway opened into a guest suite more luxurious than any hotel room she'd ever stayed in. White linen sheets, a private terrace, and a bathroom with marble everything. But it was the mirror above the bed that caught her attention. A large, silver-framed rectangle—simple, but old. She moved closer and frowned.
The mirror shimmered.
"Elara?" Dominic's voice cut into her concentration.
She turned, startled. "This mirror—"
"Don't touch it," he warned sharply.
She stepped back instinctively. "Why?"
Dominic's gaze narrowed. "Because it doesn't show what you want to see. It shows what you're trying to hide."
Elara went still.
Was that... a warning? A threat?
Or both?
Later that night
Elara couldn't sleep.
The sheets were too soft. The silence too deep. The entire penthouse felt like it was breathing, like something ancient had been stirred awake by her presence.
She got up, wrapping a silk robe around her body, and stepped barefoot into the main hallway. The floor was warm beneath her feet.
Her eyes were drawn again to the mirror above the bed.
What am I trying to hide?
Her fingertips reached out before she could stop herself.
As soon as her skin met the cool glass, images exploded across its surface—blinding silver, a blood-red moon, wolves howling in agony, her own reflection screaming in a voice not her own.
She fell back with a cry, gasping.
"Elara!"
Dominic was there in an instant, grabbing her wrists. "What did you do?!"
"The mirror—it showed—" she panted, wide-eyed, "—something inside me.
Something not human."
He cursed under his breath and pulled her away from the wall.
"You weren't supposed to awaken yet."
"A-Awaken?" Her voice cracked.
His jaw clenched. "Your senses. Your curse. Your gift—whatever you want to call it. The blood we shared... it must have accelerated it."
Elara blinked. "What are you talking about?"
Dominic's expression turned grim. "There's a reason I chose you. And it wasn't just your silence or your desperation."
He stared into her eyes then, deeper than anyone ever had.
"You can see beyond the veil. You were born with it. And now? That mirror will start telling you everything we've both buried."
The following morning
Elara sat at the breakfast bar, poking at a plate of eggs she had no intention of eating.
Dominic, dressed in black slacks and an open-collar shirt, sipped coffee like nothing had happened. But his eyes were red-rimmed, exhausted.
"How long have you known?" she asked finally.
He looked at her over the rim of his cup.
"That I'm not just a barista with psychic dreams," she continued. "That I'm something... else."
"I've always known," he said quietly. "Your grandmother was a Moon-Seer. The last in her bloodline. She saved my pack once... and she told me your name before she died."
Elara's breath caught. "My grandmother died when I was twelve. I never told anyone that."
"I know."
Silence fell again.
"I don't want to be part of some... destiny or bargain from before I was even born," she whispered.
"Too late," Dominic said. "The mating mark doesn't lie."
She looked away. "So what happens now?"
He stood and walked toward the glass windows, staring out over the city like a wolf in a cage.
"Now," he said, "you learn how to survive in a den full of secrets. Starting with mine."
Later
Elara explored the penthouse, avoiding the mirror like it might swallow her whole.
She discovered a locked study, a rooftop greenhouse filled with glowing plants, and a hidden staircase that led to an underground vault.
But it was the music room that caught her attention—a grand piano covered in dust, with claw marks gouging its surface.
As she sat on the bench, her fingers hovered over the keys.
A whisper brushed her ear.
Play, Moonblood. Let them hear you.
She gasped and jerked back.
"Elara!"
Dominic again.
She turned slowly. "This house is alive."
He nodded grimly. "It's not a house. It's a haven for things like us."
"Things?" she echoed.
"Wolves, witches, hybrids, oracles. We're not supposed to mix," he said. "But this bond we share? It's rewriting laws older than kings."
He reached for her, and for once, she didn't flinch.
His palm found hers. The mark on her collarbone flared.
"I'll protect you," he said, voice barely above a vow. "But you need to start trusting yourself first."
She nodded, shakily.
"I'll try."
But inside, Elara wondered if it was too late for that.
Because the mirror had shown her something more.
A vision of blood. Of a silver crown. And a beast buried inside her—waiting to wake.