Lena's POV
"You can't keep avoiding my questions forever, Damien," I said, crossing my arms and blocking his path.
He stopped mid-stride in the grand study, the floor-to-ceiling windows casting silver streaks of moonlight across the room. His back was to me, shoulders tense, his hands resting on the edge of the massive mahogany desk.
"I'm not avoiding them," Damien said without turning. His voice was low, rough, like gravel sliding over stone.
"Yes, you are," I shot back. "Ever since I got here, you've been dancing around the truth, giving me half-answers. If you want me to trust you, then tell me what's going on."
He finally turned, his silver eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made my breath hitch. "Do you trust me, Lena?"
I faltered, the weight of his question settling over me. "I—I don't know. You saved my life, but that doesn't mean I'm ready to trust you blindly."
His lips twitched into a humorless smile. "Fair enough. But the truth you're asking for? It's not as simple as you think."
"Try me," I challenged, stepping closer.
He studied me for a long moment, his gaze piercing, as if he were trying to see inside me. Finally, he exhaled, running a hand through his dark hair.
"Fine," Damien said. "But once I tell you, there's no going back."
I swallowed hard, my heart pounding. "I'm listening."
He gestured toward the leather armchairs by the fireplace. "Sit."
"I'll stand."
"Stubborn as always," he muttered, shaking his head.
"Damien," I pressed.
He leaned against the desk, arms crossed. "Lena, the world isn't what you think it is. There's a side to it—a darker, more dangerous side—that most people never see. Werewolves, vampires, supernatural beings… they're real."
I blinked at him, waiting for the punchline. When it didn't come, I let out a sharp laugh. "You're kidding, right? Werewolves? That's your big revelation?"
His expression didn't waver.
"Oh, come on," I scoffed. "Do you really expect me to believe that?"
"You saw me transform," he said evenly.
"That could've been… I don't know, some kind of trick or hallucination."
Damien's jaw clenched. "It wasn't a trick, Lena. I'm a werewolf. And so was your brother."
The room tilted. I grabbed the back of a chair for support, my mind racing.
"No," I said, shaking my head. "Ethan wasn't—he's not—"
"He didn't tell you because he wanted to protect you," Damien interrupted, his voice softening. "But it's in your blood too, Lena. You're connected to this world, whether you like it or not."
I laughed again, but it came out hollow. "This is insane."
"Is it?" Damien asked, stepping closer. "You've always felt different, haven't you? Like you didn't quite belong in the world you grew up in. That's because you didn't."
I opened my mouth to argue, but the words caught in my throat. He wasn't wrong.
"I'm not like you," I whispered.
"Not yet," he said cryptically.
I frowned. "What does that mean?"
"There's more," Damien admitted, his gaze heavy with something I couldn't name. "You're not just any werewolf, Lena. You're part of a prophecy—an ancient one that speaks of a bloodline powerful enough to unite the clans or destroy them. That bloodline runs through you."
I stared at him, my chest tightening. "This is ridiculous."
"It's the truth," Damien said. "Why do you think your brother disappeared? He was trying to protect you. And now, because of your connection to him, they're after you too."
"Who's 'they'?" I demanded.
"The rival packs," Damien said grimly. "And one Alpha in particular—Victor Kane."
Before I could process this, the door to the study burst open. A man strode in, flanked by two burly figures who radiated danger.
"Speak of the devil," Damien muttered under his breath.
The man—Victor Kane, I assumed—was tall, with an air of arrogance that was palpable. His dark hair was slicked back, his piercing green eyes locking onto me like a predator sizing up its prey.
"Well, well," Victor said, his voice smooth and cold. "The elusive Lena Cross. I must say, you're more… intriguing than I expected."
Damien stepped in front of me, his posture protective. "You have no business here, Kane."
Victor smirked, unfazed. "On the contrary, Damien. The girl is very much my business."
"She's under my protection," Damien growled, his voice dangerously low.
Victor tilted his head, his smirk widening. "Protection? From what? The truth? She deserves to know what she is—what her bloodline means to us."
"She's not yours to claim," Damien snapped.
Claim? My stomach churned at the word.
Victor's gaze flicked to me, a glint of amusement in his eyes. "Tell me, Lena, do you even know why they're fighting over you?"
"Enough," Damien barked.
Victor ignored him, stepping closer. "You're the key, Lena. Your blood can tip the scales in this war. But you've been kept in the dark, haven't you?"
I glared at him, my hands curling into fists. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Of course, you don't," Victor said, his tone mockingly sympathetic. "But you will. Soon."
"Get out," Damien growled, his body vibrating with barely restrained rage.
Victor chuckled, backing toward the door. "I'll go, for now. But mark my words, Damien—this isn't over. You can't keep her from me forever."
With one last glance at me, Victor and his men disappeared, leaving behind a suffocating tension.
I turned to Damien, my voice shaking. "What the hell was that?"
Damien's expression was grim. "Trouble."
"Why does he want me?"
"Because," Damien said, his silver eyes locking onto mine, "you're the most powerful piece on the board, Lena. And everyone wants to control you."
The weight of his words settled over me, and for the first time, I felt the gravity of what I'd been pulled into. But before I could respond, Damien's phone buzzed.
He glanced at the screen, his jaw tightening. "We need to move. Now."
"Why?"
"Because," he said, grabbing my arm and pulling me toward the door, "Victor doesn't make empty threats."