The Mississippi River was cold and unforgiving at three in the morning.
Aurora let the current carry her downstream for nearly a mile before she surfaced. Her lungs burned as she broke through the dark water, gasping silently. The blood moon cast red ripples across the river's surface, making everything look like it was painted in blood.
*Perfect*, she thought grimly. *How fitting.*
She had felt Vincent's men following her from the moment she left the hotel. Had smelled their intention to kill before they even made their move. The three-blood heritage that had saved her life ten years ago had saved her again tonight.
But this time, she had made a choice.
Aurora swam silently to the old dock where she had first returned to New Orleans. Her enhanced hearing picked up voices in the distance—Marcus's voice, raw with grief and rage.
"Find her body!" he was shouting. "Search every inch of this goddamn river!"
Aurora's heart clenched at the pain in his voice. She hadn't expected that. Hadn't expected him to care so much for a woman he'd known for less than a week.
She pulled herself onto the dock, water streaming from her silver hair. Her designer clothes were ruined, but she was alive. More than alive—she was awake in a way she hadn't been since she was sixteen.
The mate bond thrummed between them like a live wire, even at this distance. She could feel Marcus's anguish as if it were her own. Could taste his tears on the night air.
*Why does it hurt so much?* she wondered, pressing a hand to her chest. *He's supposed to be my enemy.*
But as Aurora stood dripping on the dock, listening to Marcus organize search parties for her body, she realized something had fundamentally changed.
The man grieving for her wasn't the monster who had killed her family.
Which meant the real monster was still out there.
And now he thought she was dead.
---
Aurora made her way to the abandoned warehouse she had prepared as a safe house months ago. She had planned for every contingency except one—falling for her target.
Inside, she stripped out of her wet clothes and pulled on dry jeans and a black sweater. In the mirror, her reflection looked like a ghost. Her silver hair hung in wet tangles, and her violet eyes were rimmed with red.
But for the first time in ten years, they weren't red with hatred.
They were red with tears.
*Get it together*, she told herself harshly. *This changes nothing. Marcus Blackwood is still the enemy. His pack still needs to pay for what they did.*
But even as she thought it, she knew it was a lie.
Because three hours ago, when those men had thrown her into the river, Marcus had dove in after her without hesitation. Had searched for her with the desperation of a man who had just lost everything.
That wasn't the behavior of a killer.
That was the behavior of a mate.
Aurora's phone buzzed with an encrypted message. Only one person had this number.
*Package delivered. Payment pending. - V*
Vincent. He thought she was dead, just like everyone else. Which meant she finally had the advantage she needed.
But first, she had to know the truth.
Aurora opened her laptop and accessed the secure server she had been building for months. Financial records, pack meeting transcripts, phone conversations—everything she had gathered about the Blackwood Pack over the past year.
She had been looking for evidence of their guilt.
Now she was looking for evidence of their innocence.
---
At sunrise, Aurora finally found what she was looking for.
Buried in the pack's financial records from ten years ago was a series of payments to an offshore account. Payments that had started two weeks before her family's murder and continued for six months afterward.
The account belonged to a shell company.
A shell company that ultimately traced back to Vincent Rousseau.
Aurora stared at the screen, her hands shaking.
Vincent hadn't just been involved in her family's murder—he had *financed* it. Had paid Marcus's uncle and his supporters to kill the Nightshade Pack and make it look like a Blackwood operation.
But why?
Aurora dove deeper into the financial records, following the money trail with the skill of someone who had spent years learning to hunt in the shadows.
What she found made her blood run cold.
Ten years ago, Vincent had been losing influence in the supernatural community. The old families—Blackwood, Nightshade, and a few others—had been moving toward a peace treaty that would have ended decades of profitable conflict.
Vincent's arms dealing, his mercenary operations, his entire power base depended on the supernatural families staying at war with each other.
So he had manufactured a war.
Aurora's family hadn't been killed because they were a threat.
They had been killed because they were peacemakers.
And Marcus's family had been framed for murder to ensure that peace would never come.
Aurora closed the laptop and walked to the window. In the distance, she could see the Blackwood Tower rising into the morning sky. Somewhere in that building was a man who thought she was dead.
A man who had been grieving for her all night.
A man who was as much a victim as she was.
Aurora's reflection stared back at her from the window glass. The woman looking back wasn't the same person who had arrived in New Orleans a week ago burning for revenge.
This woman had choices to make.
She could continue hiding, let Marcus believe she was dead, and go after Vincent alone. It would be safer. Cleaner.
Or she could trust the mate bond that sang in her veins. Trust the man who had jumped into the river to save her life.
Trust her enemy to become her ally.
Aurora touched the crescent moon birthmark on her collarbone—the mark that had saved her life twice now.
Maybe it was time to stop hiding behind it.
Maybe it was time to step into the light.
---
Marcus Blackwood looked like hell.
Aurora watched him from across the street as he stumbled out of his building at noon, his usually perfect suit wrinkled, his dark hair disheveled. He had been awake all night searching for her body.
The mate bond flared between them as she stepped out of the shadows.
Marcus froze on the sidewalk. His golden eyes went wide with shock, then hope, then something that looked dangerously close to joy.
"Aurora?" His voice was hoarse from shouting orders all night.
"Hello, Marcus." She walked toward him slowly, giving him time to process that she was real, that she was alive. "We need to talk."
"You're alive." He reached for her, then stopped himself, his hands shaking. "Christ, you're alive. I thought—when I couldn't find you—"
"I know." Aurora stopped just out of reach, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body. "I felt your pain through the bond. All night."
Marcus's eyes searched her face. "If you're alive, why didn't you—why did you let me think—"
"Because I needed to know the truth." Aurora held up a flash drive. "And now I do."
"What truth?"
Aurora took a deep breath. This was the moment of no return. The moment when she chose to trust the bond between them or walk away forever.
"The truth about who really killed my family."
Marcus went very still. "Aurora—"
"It wasn't you." The words came out in a rush. "It wasn't your pack. It was Vincent Rousseau. He paid your uncle to stage the attack and frame your family. He manufactured the war between our packs because he profits from conflict."
The silence stretched between them like a taut wire.
Finally, Marcus spoke. "How long have you known who you really are?"
"Since I was sixteen. Since the night I survived the fire."
"And you came here for revenge."
"Yes."
"Against me."
Aurora met his eyes steadily. "Yes."
Marcus nodded slowly. "And now?"
"Now I know my real enemy." Aurora stepped closer, close enough to touch. "The question is—will you help me destroy him?"
Marcus reached out and cupped her face in his hands. His touch was gentle, reverent, like he couldn't quite believe she was real.
"Aurora Nightshade," he said quietly. "Last survivor of the Nightshade Pack. My mate. My everything."
"Is that a yes?"
Marcus leaned down and kissed her forehead, a soft, lingering touch that sent warmth spiraling through her entire body.
"That's a promise," he whispered against her skin. "Vincent Rousseau is going to pay for what he did to your family. I swear it on my life."
Aurora closed her eyes and let herself lean into his strength. For the first time in ten years, she wasn't alone in her quest for justice.
And for the first time since she was sixteen, the fire in her chest wasn't burning with hatred.
It was burning with hope.
*End of Chapter 6*