Chapter 1 One

Ezra Raine didn't believe in accidents. Not in business. Not in war. And definitely not when a woman slipped past his supernatural security system and walked straight into the most guarded room in the city.

The penthouse pulsed with silence.

He stood by the glass wall overlooking Midtown, a drink untouched in his hand, rain smearing the city lights into soft chaos. Forty-five stories below, the world moved in patterns he'd long since learned to control.

But something was off.

A faint buzz stirred beneath his skin old magic, warning him before logic caught up. The kind of instinct no machine could replicate. Something was inside the vault.

And that something had just crossed a line no one came back from.

Ezra moved through the suite like a shadow, quiet and controlled. No need for weapons. He was one. The vault was wide open. That alone told him everything he needed to know this wasn't just a break-in. It was a message. And whoever delivered it was either brilliant... or suicidal.

She stood inside, back to him. Clad in a sleek, black tactical suit, built like she knew how to break bones and hearts in the same breath. Her attention was locked on a pedestal at the center of the room.

The Relic.

An ancient bloodstone orb glowing faintly with runes that hadn't responded to anyone in centuries.

Until now.

Ezra stepped inside. She didn't react. Not even a twitch. That made her either extremely confident or extremely stupid. He let the door hiss closed behind him.

"You've got five seconds to explain how you got in here before I decide what part of you to break first," he said calmly.

The woman turned, slow and measured. No fear. Just cool, calculating eyes the color of storm clouds.

"That's one hell of a welcome," she said.

Ezra took a step forward. "You're not supposed to be breathing."

She smiled faintly. "Neither are you, from what I've read."

That pulled a flicker of curiosity from him. She knew who he was. That wasn't unusual. What was unusual? The fact that she wasn't impressed.

She reached for the Relic. Ezra moved faster. In less than a breath, he had her against the wall, forearm across her collarbone, pressure exact and practiced. She didn't struggle, just met his eyes like this was a negotiation.

"You walked into a building layered with sigils, enchantments, and biometric triggers," he said. "You shouldn't even remember walking in, let alone be standing here."

"Maybe your security isn't as special as you think." Ezra's palm lit up with a faint glow. The sigil. It was reacting. He looked down. So was she.

A matching symbol flared beneath her suit, burning through the fabric in gold-red light. His eyes narrowed. That wasn't possible.

"You activated a binding mark," he muttered.

"I didn't activate anything," she said. "I was just here to steal it."

"Well," he said, stepping back slightly, "you failed." She rubbed her neck and tilted her head.

"If I failed, why am I still alive?" Ezra didn't answer. Because he didn't know.

Ten minutes later, she sat in the lounge, still calm, still composed. Rain hammered the glass behind her. Ezra watched her from across the room, leaning on the marble bar with a new glass of scotch in his hand.

He wasn't sure if he wanted to seduce her or tear her apart. Possibly both.

"What's your name?" he asked finally.

She glanced up. "Lira."

"That your real name?"

"It's real enough."

Ezra stared at her for a long beat. "What are you?" A flash of something passed across her face hurt, maybe. Anger. She didn't answer. "You touched a relic no one's touched since the old wars. You triggered a bond mark that shouldn't exist anymore. And you walked into my vault like you belonged there."

"Maybe I do."

"Or maybe you're cursed." A silence stretched between them. Ezra spoke again, lower this time. "Who sent you?"

"I work alone."

"That's a lie," he said, stepping forward, voice hardening.

"You don't break through supernatural defenses, decode bloodlocked spells, and reach the heart of a vault like this without help."

"I didn't need help," she said. "I was born for this."

Ezra stopped. Something about the way she said it chilled him. Or maybe it was the way the Relic behind her pulsed brighter now. Like it had found its match.

Later that night, Ezra stood alone in the vault again. His sleeve was rolled up. The sigil still glowed faintly on his forearm alive, after years of silence.

He stared at the Relic. It didn't pulse. Didn't hum. It just sat there, like it was satisfied.

The girl Lira was still here. Held in the guest suite under psychic wards and old magic. No locks. No chains. But she wouldn't get far. She wasn't human. Not entirely. And she was connected to something ancient. Something tied to him. Ezra didn't know who she was. But he knew one thing for certain: She didn't break into his world by chance. She was meant to be here. And now that she was? Nothing would be the same again.

Ezra didn't sleep. He rarely did these days, but tonight his restlessness had nothing to do with business deals or territorial disputes. It was the woman. Lira. She should've been nothing more than a problem to eliminate. A breach in security. A threat to neutralize.

But instead, she was a question he didn't have the answer to and that made her dangerous. He stood on the balcony now, shirt unbuttoned, the wind slicking his skin with cold rain. Below, the city pulsed with life. Above, storm clouds twisted, like the sky could sense what had been disturbed.

He hadn't told her the full truth. That sigil on her chest? It didn't just mean they were bonded. It meant the curse had chosen her.

In the guest suite, Lira paced. She'd been locked in nicer prisons. Hell, she'd broken out of worse ones. But this room? It wasn't designed to keep her trapped. It was meant to watch. No cameras. No guards. Just layers of invisible magic and a strange pressure in the air, like the walls were breathing with her. Like the penthouse itself was alive.

She stood in front of the mirror and pulled down the collar of her suit. There it was. The mark. Still glowing faintly, like something inside her hadn't finished waking up.

"What the hell did you do to me, Raine?" she whispered.

Ezra returned just before dawn. The sky was beginning to lighten barely but the shadows inside him had only deepened. He stepped into the suite like gravity bent around him, his presence filling the room before he spoke. Lira looked up from where she sat on the edge of the bed, barefoot now, hair loose, expression unreadable.

"You look like you haven't slept in years," she said.

Ezra didn't smile. "I haven't." "Then I guess that makes two of us." He studied her in silence. Most people squirmed under that kind of attention. She didn't even blink.

"Who trained you?" he asked.

"No one you'd know."

"Try me."

"Dead now," she said simply.

Ezra stepped closer. Not aggressive just curious.

"You were raised for this, weren't you?" he asked. "Not to steal. To find people like me."

Lira stood. Her voice dropped. "I don't even know what the hell you are."

"You don't need to know what I am," he said. "You need to understand what you've touched."

Her jaw tensed. "I touched something because someone told me it didn't belong in your hands."

Ezra raised a brow. "Someone? Who?"

Lira looked him dead in the eye. "I told myself." For a moment, they stood there two predators circling a truth neither was ready to speak. And then the air changed. The sigil on Ezra's arm flared. Lira stumbled, clutching her chest as the matching mark pulsed like it was trying to crawl out of her skin.

Ezra caught her before she hit the floor, arms firm around her. Her breath was sharp, erratic. His heart? Silent. Steady. Their marks glowed together, syncing like some invisible tether had snapped into place. Ezra looked down at her, eyes burning gold-red.

"You're not here by accident," he said.

"I never believed in fate," she whispered.

"Neither did I," he murmured, brushing damp strands of hair from her face.

"Until now." The bond sealed in silence. No spells. No ceremony. Just two people pulled into something ancient and merciless. Whatever this was curse, connection, trap it had only just begun. And neither of them was walking away untouched.