Chapter 8

Elenor POV

The heavy door of the Maybach opened, and the biting chill of the New York night hit my face. The imposing concrete steps of the NYPD 19th Precinct loomed ahead, bathed in the sickly, jaundiced glow of the streetlights. The air tasted of exhaust fumes and human desperation, but all I could focus on was the frantic beating of my own heart. Jamison was in there.

I took a trembling step toward the building, but before my foot could even touch the first stair, the heavy glass doors of the precinct pushed open.

My breath caught in my throat.

Caleb Thornton walked out. He looked disheveled, a stark contrast to his usual polished arrogance. A thick white bandage was taped across his broken nose, and his expensive designer shirt was ruined by streaks of dried, dark blood.

He stopped at the top of the stairs. The moment his eyes locked onto mine, the familiar, sickening smirk twisted his lips. He used the height of the steps to his advantage, looking down at me like I was nothing more than dirt beneath his expensive shoes.

"Look what we have here," Caleb sneered, his voice dripping with the same contempt that had haunted my nightmares for years. "The wolfless charity case, crawling to the police for her feral human brother."

The words hit me like a silver-laced blade. *Wolfless charity case.* My body froze, paralyzed by the sheer weight of my past trauma. I wanted to scream, to defend Jamison, but the humiliation choked me. I began to shake, my hands curling into useless fists at my sides.

Then, Caleb's gaze shifted. He noticed the massive, silent shadow standing right beside me.

Because of the dim lighting, and because Caleb had never truly run in the elite circles of apex predators, his arrogance blinded him to the lethal danger radiating from the man at my side. Caleb sensed an Alpha, but his twisted ego immediately categorized Damien as some nameless, insignificant Pack leader.

Caleb looked Damien up and down with an insulting, appraising glare. "Found yourself a new Alpha to leech off of, Elenor?" he mocked, his voice echoing off the concrete. "Does he know he's picking up the Thornton Pack's leftovers?"

The air around us didn't just drop in temperature; it completely solidified.

Damien stepped forward. His massive frame moved with the terrifying grace of a mountain lion, instantly eclipsing Caleb from my view and shielding me entirely behind his broad back. The scent of cedar, torrential rain, and dark Cuban tobacco exploded into the night-a suffocating, physical weight that slammed into Caleb.

"Thornton," Damien said.

It wasn't a shout. It was a low, emotionless whisper that carried the finality of an executioner's axe.

Damien tilted his head slightly. In the dim light, his charcoal eyes ignited, glowing with a blinding, lethal silver fire. His inner beast, the Lycan, was at the surface.

"Does your father, the Alpha of your pathetic little Pack, know you're out here barking at my Mate?" Damien's voice was a dark, rumbling vibration that shook the very pavement beneath our feet. "Does he know you're about to start a war you can't possibly survive?"

Mate.

The word struck Caleb like a physical blow. The arrogant smirk vanished, replaced by a mask of absolute, unadulterated terror. He finally realized exactly who was standing in front of him. The legendary Lycan Alpha. Damien Blackwood.

All the color drained from Caleb's face, leaving him ashen. His knees buckled slightly, his body trembling so violently that I could hear his teeth chattering. Even from behind Damien, I could feel the pathetic, whining submission of Caleb's inner wolf, completely crushed by the Lycan's oppressive aura.

Damien didn't spare him another second of his time. To the Alpha King, Caleb was already a ghost.

A large, warm hand settled firmly against the small of my back. The touch was fiercely protective, grounding me instantly. Without another word, Damien guided me up the concrete steps. We walked right past the shattered, trembling heir of the Thornton Pack, pushing through the heavy doors and stepping into the harsh fluorescent lights of the precinct.