The Silver Blade

**Nyx POV**

"Hello, Nyx." He smiles as he stops dead center at the edge of our booth.

The sound of my name rolling off his tongue makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. My chest vibrates with a sudden, vicious intensity. I swallow hard, using every ounce of my willpower to shove down the visceral, guttural growl clawing its way up my throat. I force my muscles to remain still, masking the predator ready to strike. Through gritted teeth, I bare a tight, mocking smile.

"What do you want?" I demand, my voice dropping into a low, lethal register meant only for him.

He maintains that gentle, placating expression, leaning in as if we are old friends sharing a secret. It does nothing to soothe my fraying nerves. "He wants to see you."

"I don't care what he wants," I snap back. My eyes dart away from his striking green gaze, scanning the periphery of the dimly lit wine bar. Kitchen doors to the left. Main entrance blocked by his massive frame. I calculate the distance to the emergency exit, mapping out a brutal escape plan if things go sideways.

Across the table, the energy shifts. My friends realize immediately that I am hiding a massive secret. The mundane chatter about my boring clinic life vanishes, replaced by a mix of irritation and extreme curiosity.

Roxana, never one to hold her tongue, leans forward. "Excuse me? Clearly, our girl here has not filled us in on the juicy details." She sizes the imposing man up with shameless approval. "Who exactly wants to see her?"

"Billionaire Draven Voss," he answers, his tone smooth, never taking his eyes off me.

The human girls freeze. Then, their eyes blow wide. They look like they just won the lottery.

Marcella drops her voice into a sickly sweet, flirtatious pitch. "Well, why don't you join us? You can sit down and tell us all about him and what a billionaire wants with our Nyx."

"No," I protest, my tone sharp. They have no idea what they are dealing with. They don't know the lethal danger this man poses or that they are sitting in the crosshairs of a supernatural predator. "What happened to girls only for the first two hours?"

They exchange quick, knowing looks. Roxana waves her hand in dismissal. "You've been outvoted. He is joining us." She turns a proud, expectant grin on the hunter. "Firstly, what is your name and what is your link to Mr. Voss?"

He slides into the booth, taking the empty seat right next to me. The sheer heat radiating off his body makes my skin crawl. "My name is Gideon. I work on his security team. My specialty is surveillance and intelligence, so I scope out targets and gather information to ensure the safety of the team."

Marcella and Roxana lean in, swooning as they bat their heavily mascaraed eyelashes, hanging onto his every word. Sylvia frowns, tapping her chin in thought.

"Does he run the Voss Foundation?" Sylvia asks. "There are several historical artifacts on display at the museum where I work. They are on loan from his private collection."

"Yes, he does, among many other things," Gideon replies.

He turns his head toward me, but his breath hitches in his throat. Beneath the heavy oak table, I have drawn the silver blade strapped to my thigh. The cold, unforgiving steel is pressed directly against his femoral artery. I angle the razor-sharp edge, letting him feel the silent promise of death. I assert total control of this situation. If he makes one wrong move, if he threatens my friends, I will either watch him bleed out on the floor or sever his manhood.

Gideon’s jaw clenches tight. He starts to squirm in his seat, attempting to pull his leg away from the bite of the metal, but I match his movement and apply more pressure, pinning him in place.

Above the table, the girls remain blissfully oblivious to the lethal standoff happening inches from their knees. Roxana is already typing rapidly on her phone screen.

"Oh. My. God," Roxana squeals, shoving her phone toward Marcella. "Is this his picture? He is gorgeous. Is he really a billionaire? What does he want with Nyx? How did he even meet her? Why didn't he come here himself?"

Gideon forces a laugh, masking the tension gripping his body. "That is a lot of questions at once. Yes, he really is a billionaire. He met Nyx a week ago during a mission and was very impressed. I think he has a bit of a crush on her, honestly. He has been moping around his house since then, hoping she would come to him. He didn't come tonight because he tries to keep a low profile. He is far too recognizable in public, and that is why he sent me."

A cold, terrifying fury rises in my chest. I ignore the billionaire nonsense and ask the only question that matters. "How did you find me?"

Gideon keeps his voice low, aiming for a calm rhythm. "All our soldiers wear body cameras, so we have footage from that chaotic mission. We pulled a still frame of your face and sent it to a hacker friend. He ran facial recognition, found your driver’s license. That gave us your license plates and your home address. I just waited for you to leave the house and followed you here."

The casual explanation makes my blood boil. They hunted me. They invaded the one sanctuary I built for myself, tracing my human life as if it were a simple game. Gideon senses the dangerous shift in my posture, his eyes flashing with genuine concern.

"We are not your enemies, Nyx," he murmurs, trying to pacify me while I hold a knife to his major artery. "He just wants to see you and make sure you are okay."

"I have been fine for years without him, and I don't need any of you now," I spit out.

I slide out of the booth, standing up fast while keeping the blade concealed under the edge of my leather jacket. I am done playing games.

"You know he won't let this go," Gideon warns.

"Then I will just disappear again."

I turn toward the aisle. Gideon reaches out, his large hand clamping down hard over my bicep to stop me.

Pure instinct takes over. Faster than his reflexes can block, I bring the blade up and slice the sharp silver edge straight across the back of his hand.

Gideon hisses, yanking his arm back as crimson blood wells from the deep cut. He gets the message loud and clear. He doesn't reach for me again.

I slide the knife back into its hidden sheath in a flash, hiding the weapon before the rest of the crowded bar notices the violence. But my friends saw everything.

I glance down at the booth. Roxana, Marcella, and Sylvia are frozen in place. The starstruck excitement has vanished, replaced by pure shock and terror. They stare at me, their mouths parted, eyes wide and fearful. They have lived with me for years and have never seen this ruthless, violent side of me.

I don't have time to explain. I start storming toward the back exit of the bar, grabbing Roxana's arm and shoving them ahead of me. I make sure my girls are walking in front, keeping myself positioned between them and the threat.

Behind me, I hear Gideon yelling over the pounding music.

"He will keep looking for you if you don't go see him! And you know why!"

"I already told you, I don't care what he wants or why!" I shout back over my shoulder, shoving the heavy metal door open. "I am not going back!"

We stumble out into the alley. As soon as the cold night air hits my face, my lungs seize. It feels like there is not enough oxygen in the entire world. My chest tightens, making it hard to breathe. The alley narrows, the brick walls closing in on me as a massive spike of adrenaline crashes through my veins. I need to get home. I need to get us to safety before the Alpha King sends an entire pack to drag me away.

I herd my panicked friends toward the sedan. They don't utter a single word of complaint. They are too frightened by the manic energy rolling off me. They scramble into the car, locking the doors.

I jump into the driver's seat and gun the engine. As we peel out of the dark alleyway and hit the main street, my eyes flick up to the rearview mirror.

Gideon is standing alone under the dim light of the bar's back entrance, clutching his bleeding hand, watching us drive away into the night.