Into the Starlight

Sienna's POV

She lunged. Clawed fingers swiped toward my throat, aiming to rip my jugular right out of my neck. I scrambled backward, my hip slamming into a heavy oak side table. A porcelain lamp shattered against the hardwood floor. My heart hammered against my ribs, thrashing so hard I thought my chest might crack open. Before those razor-sharp claws could tear into my flesh, a sudden blur of motion intercepted her.

"Enough!" Tristan's voice cracked through the chaotic room like a bullwhip. He positioned himself squarely between us, his large fingers clamped tight around Valerie's wrist like a vice. "Control yourself. Now."

Valerie's half-shifted, monstrous face contorted. Drool dripped from her elongated fangs. "She hit me! A weak little human struck a wolf! Pack law demands blood! The law demands—"

"She is still my mate." Tristan's voice dropped to a lethal, authoritative octave, flashing his rank. "Shift back to human form. Now."

For a tense, suffocating second, I thought Valerie would tear into both of us. The feral hatred blazing in her glowing golden eyes remained undiminished. But then, with visible physical strain, her snout began to recede. Fur melted back into flawless, pale skin. Bones cracked and rearranged. The horrifying monster vanished, replaced once again by human beauty.

"This isn't over," she hissed, wiping a streak of saliva from her plush mouth.

Tristan turned his hardened stare on me. "Sienna, you are acting hysterical. You need to calm down and understand exactly what you are doing. Rejecting a mate bond has severe consequences. Our Pack won't tolerate a public humiliation like this from a human—"

"I don't care about your Pack, and I don't care about your rules." My voice came out dead flat, ringing with a chilling clarity. A strange, icy calm washed over my trembling body. "You lied to me. You slept with her in our bed. You used me, Tristan. You played your sick games while feeding me garbage about destiny and true mates."

I backed toward the entryway, keeping them both in my line of sight. My fingers blindly searched for and closed over the cold brass of the doorknob. "You disgust me. Both of you."

Tristan stepped forward, a dark, menacing shadow crossing his sharp features. "Listen to me very carefully. If you walk out that door tonight, you are formally rejecting the mate bond. There is no coming back from that, Sienna. You don't know the brutal Pack politics you are messing with. You need me."

"Good." I twisted the knob, yanked the heavy door open, and stepped across the threshold. "Consider yourself rejected."

I slammed the door shut in his face. Tristan's furious shouting muffled behind the thick wood, threatening the dire consequences of walking away from a Delta. I didn't care anymore. A massive wave of relief flooded my chest, warring with the sharp, agonizing burn of betrayal and the paralyzing fear of what would come next.

I ran. I sprinted down the hallway, hit the stairs, and burst out of the apartment building into the cool night air. My high heels scraped the skin off my ankles, rubbing them raw until I felt a trickle of blood, but I refused to stop. I fled the upscale, gated residential community where Tristan lived, running blindly with no destination in mind. I just needed to put as much distance between us as possible.

Eventually, my burning lungs forced me to slow down. I found myself wandering through the busy downtown streets, surrounded by late-night crowds, glowing neon signs, and pulsing music from nearby clubs.

Exhausted, thirsty, and deeply heartbroken, I dragged my aching feet toward a sleek, high-end establishment called the Starlight Lounge. I pushed through the heavy glass doors, seeking refuge in the dimly lit, sophisticated space.

I dragged my battered body to an empty leather barstool and collapsed onto it. "Double vodka tonic," I told the bartender, my voice raspy. "Keep them coming."

He slid the icy glass across the counter. I took a massive gulp. The freezing liquid burned a fiery trail down my throat, hitting my empty stomach and unraveling the tight, suffocating knot in my chest. As the alcohol entered my bloodstream, unwanted memories surfaced, mocking my current misery.

I remembered Tristan across a crowded coffee shop five years ago. He locked onto me with those intense amber eyes, making me feel like the center of his universe. *We wolves only get one true mate in life, Sienna, and you are mine.* I remembered Valerie smiling at me over Sunday brunch, holding my hand. *As his best friend, I'll help you adjust to our world. I'll protect you.*

I downed the rest of my drink and slammed the glass down. The bitter, toxic reality crashed over me. I had nothing left. I had no fiancé. I had no home to return to. I had no income—I quit my stable teaching job because Tristan insisted a future Delta's mate shouldn't have to work. I surrendered my independence for a lie. Now, I was stranded in a massive city controlled by the very werewolf Pack I just defied.

Worst of all, my dad. A cold spike of dread pierced my stomach. How was I supposed to pay his mounting hospital bills now? The treatments were astronomical. Without Tristan's financial support, my father's health care would stop by the end of the month.

I stared into my empty glass, feeling the crushing weight of my ruined life. Jobless, homeless, and terrified. A second drink arrived. Then a third. The vodka blurred the sharp, jagged edges of my panic. The desperation morphed into a reckless, buzzing heat beneath my skin.

It was well past midnight when the heavy atmosphere in the lounge shifted. The low hum of drunken conversation died down. Patrons stepped back, parting like the Red Sea to clear a wide path through the center of the room.

A tall, broad-shouldered man walked toward the VIP section, flanked by unseen bodyguards. The bartender abandoned my side of the counter, scrambling to pour a neat whiskey without taking an order. I swiveled on my stool, my alcohol-laced curiosity peaking as I watched the man who commanded such raw, unspoken deference.

He possessed an aura of undeniable power. High cheekbones, a sharp, square jaw, and a straight, aristocratic nose. Thick, dark brown hair fell in loose waves over his forehead. As he walked past, he turned his head, and I caught a direct glimpse of midnight blue eyes. They were deep, predatory, and held a silent danger that made my breath catch.

A heavy black onyx ring rested on his right pinky finger. The Lockwood family crest.

Roman Lockwood.

Future Alpha of the Obsidian Moon Pack. The ruthless CEO of Lockwood Group. Tristan's ultimate superior. Just looking at him made a strange, unbidden heat pool low in my belly. My skin flushed hot.

I pulled out my phone. The screen glared: 1:15 AM. My battery sat at a measly three percent, and my bank account was drained. I left my wallet and charger at my friend Maya's apartment earlier this evening, thinking I would only be gone for twenty minutes to grab my favorite necklace from Tristan's place. A necklace I left behind, along with the engagement ring.

I slapped my maxed-out credit card on the bar, signed the receipt, and pushed myself off the stool. The room tilted sideways. The vodka hit my brain much harder than I anticipated. I took a wobbly, uncoordinated step toward the exit, lost my footing, and slammed directly into a solid wall of muscle.

Custom-tailored silk slid against my bare arms.

His scent hit me instantly. Musk, expensive sandalwood cologne, and a raw, primal undertone that bypassed my brain and struck straight at my core. A heavy, magnetic pull sparked to life inside my chest. Hot, electric warmth radiated from my center, shooting down to my thighs, making me acutely aware of every single point where our bodies touched.

I tilted my head up. Those midnight blue eyes stared down at me. The edges of his irises flared with a sudden flash of predatory gold. A jagged jolt of electricity snapped between us—hot, undeniable, and shocking, like a live current jumping between two exposed wires.

"I'm sorry," I breathed. My lips parted on their own.

Roman Lockwood didn't step back. His intense gaze swept over my face, dropping to my mouth before snapping back to my eyes. His pupils blew wide. His broad chest rose as his breath visibly hitched. The air between us grew heavy, thick with a desperate, gravity-like pull. It felt like a dormant, forgotten part of my soul awakened, reaching out and yearning for him.

My body betrayed every ounce of logic I had left, reacting to his close proximity with a deep, liquid heat.

He reached out. His large, warm hand settled firmly on my waist to steady my swaying frame. Where his long fingers pressed through the thin fabric of my dress, my skin burned with a hyper-sensitive awareness.

I stared up at him, my intoxicated brain putting the pieces together.

Roman Lockwood. Tristan Mercer's greatest fear. The Alpha he bowed down to every single day. Tristan warned me to never, ever cross paths with this dangerous man.

A wicked, reckless thought bloomed in my mind, fueled by the heavy liquor and my shattered heart.

What would happen if I spent the night with the one man my cheating ex-fiancé feared most? The ultimate revenge.

"You okay?" His voice was a deep, gravelly rumble that vibrated straight through my bones. It commanded authority but sounded like a dark, intimate whisper against my ear. A fresh wave of shivers cascaded down my spine.

Around us, the surrounding patrons backed away further, giving the future Alpha a wide, respectful berth.

I squared my shoulders, ignoring the dizzying effects of the alcohol, and locked eyes with him. "How do you know I'm not okay, Mr. Lockwood?"

I reached out. My fingers brushed against the cold metal of the black onyx ring on his hand. I trailed my fingertips over his knuckles, deliberately letting my touch linger on his warm, hard skin for a second too long.

His eyes narrowed to sharp slits. His nostrils flared, pulling in my scent. "You recognize me."

It was a statement, not a question.

I offered a bold, slow smile. The vodka fueled my newfound courage, burning away the last shreds of my hesitation. "Who in this city doesn't know the future CEO of Lockwood Group?"

I took a step closer, invading his personal space. I dropped my voice to a sultry, inviting murmur, angling my face so my breath fanned across the strong column of his neck. "I also know you are the heir to the Obsidian Moon Pack."

Roman's body went rigid. His muscles tensed beneath the expensive suit, a predator on high alert. "Interesting knowledge for a human girl. Who sent you?"

"Nobody." I stepped right into him. The heat of his body pressed against mine. His intoxicating scent made my head spin, sending a fresh rush of arousal pooling between my thighs. "Tonight, I'm acting for myself."

I leaned up, my lips hovering mere inches from his ear, my voice turning into a husky whisper. "I want to leave this place. Preferably not alone. What about you, Mr. Lockwood?"

He didn't pull away. His expression remained guarded, but his blue eyes darkened with something raw, hungry, and dangerously curious. His chest expanded with a deep breath. I watched the rapid, heavy pulse thud against the tanned skin of his throat.

Silence stretched between us, thick with sexual friction and unspoken promises.

Then, his hand slid around to the small of my back. His large fingers splayed wide, gripping me with a heavy, possessive warmth that sealed my fate.

"Come with me," he ordered. He turned, pulling me flush against his side, and guided me toward the exit.