Lena Voss had always thought of herself as a survivor.

Living alone in a small, cramped apartment in the heart of New York City, she'd learned the hard way that the world didn't care if you were struggling. It was a place where only the strong survived, and the rest… well, they were forgotten. At least, that was the way it had always been for her.

Her father passed away when she was young. She'd never known much about him, only that his untimely death had left her with nothing but a name and a few childhood memories. Her mother was absent, not because of death, but because she'd disappeared when Lena was only eight. No one talked about it.

But today was different. The ordinary grayness of her life had just been shattered by an envelope she hadn't expected.

She had returned home after a long shift at the art gallery, only to find a large package waiting for her at the door. It had no return address, just her name, handwritten in dark ink.

Inside was a key—a black key with an ornate family crest embossed on it. Alongside it was a letter sealed in wax. She cracked the seal and unfolded it.

"Dear Miss Lena Voss,

We wish to inform you that your late father, Dominic Voss, has left you an inheritance of considerable value. Enclosed, you will find the key to your new residence, a penthouse at the King Tower, as well as documents pertaining to your father's estate. We suggest you arrive as soon as possible to learn more. Your father's business dealings and legacy require your immediate attention. This inheritance will change your life, in ways you cannot yet understand."

Yours sincerely,

The Law Offices of Stewart & Blackwell.

Lena frowned. King Tower? She had never heard of it, nor had she ever heard her father's name associated with anything remotely related to this kind of wealth. He had worked hard, but she'd always assumed his life had been ordinary. He hadn't been involved in any grand empire, no multi-million-dollar business deals.

The letter unsettled her, but it also intrigued her. She couldn't just ignore it. This inheritance—whatever it was—was tied to her father. It was a link to the past, a past she knew little about.

Her phone buzzed suddenly, snapping her out of her thoughts. It was a text from Marcus, her best friend.

"Hey, I'm running late. You good?"

Lena stared at the screen for a moment, the words feeling distant. She quickly typed back, "Yeah, just got home. I'm fine."

But she didn't feel fine. There was an unsettling weight to the letter, the key. Something about it gnawed at her—like a memory she couldn't quite recall, a shadow in the back of her mind.

Without another word, she grabbed her coat and left her apartment, locking the door behind her. 

But as she walked towards the subway, she couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching her. 

At King Tower, the air was colder than Lena had anticipated, even for winter in New York. Everything about the building screamed wealth, sophistication, and something darker. Lena felt small in comparison. But she pressed on, heading towards the grand marble lobby. The doorman didn't even ask for her name or any form of identity—he simply nodded and pointed to the elevators like he knew she was expected.

The elevator ascended smoothly, each floor ticking off on the display until it reached the top—floor sixty-five. The doors opened with a soft chime, revealing a lavish penthouse she could never have afforded on her own. Lena's breath caught in her throat. She'd seen the city from this height before, but nothing compared to the view from this apartment. 

It was beautiful, too beautiful to belong to someone like her.

She hesitated, but only for a moment. She was here for a reason, after all.

Her eyes scanned the large room, and that's when she saw him.

Damien King.

He was standing near the far side of the room, beside a huge shelf lined with books. His back was partially turned, one hand resting lightly on a book he seemed to have forgotten he was holding. The lighting accentuated the sharp lines of his face—his angular jaw, the curve of his high cheekbones, and the faint hollow beneath his eyes. Lena's gaze lingered despite herself. There was just something about this strange man that drew her in and she knew without a doubt that he wasn't just a man.

He was a force, a dark, brooding presence filled the entire room.

And then, as though sensing her scrutiny, he moved. Slowly. Deliberately. He turned toward her, his eyes—strikingly pale against his olive skin—locking with hers. For a moment, Lena forgot to breathe. Those eyes weren't just looking at her; they were peeling back layers she didn't even know she had.

"You came." Damien spoke finally. His face revealed nothing as he closed the book in his hand.

"Who are you?" Lena asked, her voice a little shakier than she'd intended.

He smiled, but it wasn't warm. It was too calculated, too controlled. "You don't recognize me?"

Lena felt a shiver run down her spine. She couldn't look away, though she wasn't sure why. There was something about him that felt too familiar, yet completely foreign.

"No," she said, shaking her head. "I've never seen you before in my life."

His lips twitched, and for a brief moment, his eyes darkened. He stepped forward, closing the distance between them with a single, deliberate stride.

"We've been searching for you a long time, Willow," he said, his voice low, almost gentle. "You've been hard to find."

Lena froze. The name hit her like a punch to the gut. 

Willow.

She didn't know that name. She had never heard it before, and yet, the way he said it—so confidently, so certain—stirred something in her. It was like he was talking to someone else, someone she was supposed to know, but that person wasn't her.

"I'm not Willow," she said, her voice rising slightly with unease. "I'm Lena. Lena Voss."

Damien tilted his head, studying her with an almost predatory focus. "That's what they told you. But that's not who you are."

Lena felt a cold knot form in her stomach, the confusion beginning to creep in. Her mind raced—her father had left her no clues, no explanations. What could he have been involved in that she didn't know about?

She opened her mouth to speak, to demand an answer, but Damien didn't let her.

"You are Willow. The last bloodline of the Voss family." His voice dropped to a whisper, and his eyes glinted in a way that made her pulse quicken. "You're not just human, Lena. You never were. You're a wolf—a shifter. The blood of the most powerful lineage runs through you."

Lena staggered back, almost losing her balance as the weight of his words crashed over her. "A wolf? Are you out of your mind? Wolves aren't real—not like that. That's just mythology."

His lips tightened, and his eyes burned with something she couldn't name—something primal. "Oh, it's real. And whether you believe it or not, it's in your blood."

Lena frowned, shaking her head in disbelief. "This is insane. I'm not… whatever you think I am. I'm just me, okay? A regular, boring human trying to get through life without losing my mind."

Damien's expression grew darker. "I know you're confused. You're not ready to understand yet, but you will." He stepped even closer now, his presence overpowering. "You're more than just a girl who's inherited a fortune, Lena. You're something else. Something we've all been waiting for."

Lena's mind spun, the words not making sense, yet at the same time, everything inside her screamed that this wasn't just some twisted dream.

And then, in a voice low and dark, Damien leaned in close, just inches from her ear. "Your father didn't just die, Lena. He was murdered. And now, they're coming for you."