The rain came in sheets, drenching the cracked pavement of Raven Hollow's industrial district. Shadows clung to the alleys, pooling like ink beneath the glow of flickering streetlights. The night was alive with tension, and Aria Blackthorn felt it ripple through her veins as she crouched on the rooftop of an abandoned factory.
She adjusted the hood of her leather jacket, her wolf senses tuned to every shift in the air. Her breath fogged in the cold, and the metallic tang of impending violence lingered on her tongue. Somewhere below, a pair of vampires prowled the streets, their pale figures ghostlike against the rain-slick concrete.
"Focus, Aria," growled Elias through the earpiece tucked snugly in her ear. Her packmate's voice was gravelly, impatient. "We don't have time for mistakes."
"I never make mistakes," Aria muttered, her tone sharper than intended.
"Right. That's why you're babysitting tonight."
She bit back a retort, her amber eyes narrowing as she tracked the vampires' movements below. Babysitting. The word burned. This wasn't supposed to be her mission. She was a warrior, not some scout sent to spy on the coven's foot soldiers. But when her Alpha gave an order, she followed it—no questions, no complaints. That was the way of the Silverfang Pack.
Still, it grated.
The vampires were moving closer to the alley where a young werewolf, barely into his first shift, waited as bait. Lucas, the kid's name was. His fear was palpable, even from this distance, his heartbeat a frantic rhythm that echoed through the rain.
"Hold your position," Aria whispered into her mic, her voice steady despite the storm building inside her.
Her fingers flexed around the hilt of the blade strapped to her thigh. Silver. It would cut through vampire flesh like butter, but the thought of using it made her stomach churn. She didn't want a fight tonight—not really. She wanted answers.
For years, the vampires had been pushing deeper into pack territory, their raids growing bolder, more organized. The fragile truce between their species was cracking, and no one knew why. Tonight, her job was simple: intercept, interrogate, and report back. No killing unless absolutely necessary.
But simplicity was a luxury Aria rarely afforded.
The vampires stopped just short of the alley. One of them, a wiry male with jagged scars running down his cheek, sniffed the air and sneered. "Werewolf," he hissed, his voice like broken glass. "They think they can scare us with a pup?"
His companion, a woman with crimson eyes and hair slicked back like a raven's wing, chuckled darkly. "Let's make this quick. I'm hungry."
Aria's muscles coiled. She would wait until they were closer to Lucas before striking. Let them think they had the upper hand. It would make the interrogation easier.
But just as she prepared to move, the rain shifted. It wasn't the scent of the vampires that hit her next—it was something darker, heavier, like the earth after a lightning strike.
And then she saw him.
Lucien D'Aragon stepped into the street like a specter, his figure cutting through the rain with an effortless grace that made her breath hitch. He didn't belong here—not in this part of the city, not with those vampires.
Everything about him screamed danger. From the dark coat that clung to his tall, lean frame to the glint of his pale silver eyes beneath the shadows of his hair, he moved like a predator in a world of prey.
Aria froze.
"New target," Elias barked in her ear. "D'Aragon. Do not engage. Repeat—do not engage."
Her pulse quickened. Lucien D'Aragon was no ordinary vampire. He was a legend whispered about in the pack, a shadow that lingered on the edges of nightmares. He wasn't supposed to be here—not in the middle of a petty skirmish between scouts and fledglings.
But here he was, his gaze sweeping the alley like he could see every secret it held.
The two vampires snapped to attention the moment they saw him. Their sneers vanished, replaced by uneasy deference.
"Lord D'Aragon," the woman stammered, bowing her head.
He didn't respond immediately. Instead, his eyes locked onto the alley where Lucas crouched, trembling. Something flickered across his expression—too fast for Aria to decipher—before he turned to the vampires.
"Leave," Lucien said, his voice low, commanding.
The rain muted the world, but his words sliced through it like a blade.
"But—" the scarred vampire began, only to recoil as Lucien's gaze snapped to him.
"Now."
They fled without hesitation, disappearing into the shadows like smoke.
Aria's instincts screamed at her to run, to pull Lucas out of there and vanish into the night. But she stayed rooted, her eyes fixed on Lucien as he stepped closer to the alley.
This wasn't part of the plan.
"Aria," Elias hissed. "What the hell are you doing? Get the kid out of there!"
She ignored him. Something about Lucien's presence was wrong. He wasn't here to hunt. He wasn't here to fight.
And then he did the unthinkable.
Lucien knelt in front of Lucas, his movements slow, deliberate. "You're not safe here," he said softly, his voice carrying an unexpected gentleness. "Go back to your pack."
Lucas whimpered, his wide eyes darting between the vampire and the shadows where he knew Aria waited.
Lucien's lips curved into a faint, almost sad smile. "Tell them they've been chasing the wrong enemy."
Aria's breath caught. The wrong enemy? What the hell did that mean?
Before she could react, Lucien rose, his silver eyes cutting through the darkness to meet hers. He saw her. He had known she was there all along.
And then he was gone, disappearing into the rain like he had never been there at all.
Aria dropped to the street, her boots splashing in the puddles as she ran to Lucas. The kid clung to her, his shaking hands clutching her jacket.
"It's okay," she murmured, though her mind was anything but calm.
She glanced down the empty street, her heart pounding with questions she couldn't answer.
Who was the real enemy? And why had Lucien spared them both?
For the first time in years, Aria wasn't sure who the monster truly was.