The wind slid through the shattered window of the abandoned building, carrying that familiar mix of damp and rust every city grows after dark.
I lay flat on a steel beam six floors up, cheek pressed to the stock of my sniper rifle, finger steady on the trigger. The suppressor patch stuck to the side of my neck had pressed my breathing down to almost nothing.
Target: two hundred and thirty meters away, standing on a rooftop terrace.
The most dangerous Alpha in this city.
The Blood Wolves’ boss.
Ryan Kane.
I’d been locked on him for so long that every breath and heartbeat in my scope whispered the same ridiculous, brutal truth: I had to kill him.
Not just because there was a huge bounty on his head.
Not just because he’d ruined more lives than I could count.
But because three years ago… I made one mistake I’ll regret for the rest of my life.
I saved him.
Tonight I was here to correct that stupid, naive moment.
I swallowed, mouth tasting bitter from the suppressants, and shifted my angle. In the scope, Ryan had one hand in his pocket, the other wrapped around a glass of whiskey as he stood in the night breeze like he had all the time in the world. He looked like some calm predator always one second away from ripping his prey apart.
The terrace lights cut across the sharp edges of his profile—cold, lethal.
“Goodbye, Blood Wolf,” I whispered.
I pulled the trigger.
But that bullet—that goddamn shot—didn’t hit him.
He moved like he’d known I was there the whole time, just one step to the side. The bullet grazed his shoulder and shattered the glass railing behind him.
“Fuck,” I hissed, already shifting to pull back—
The whole building shuddered under a violent impact.
He’d fired back.
In a split second, a bullet struck the ventilation pipe beneath me dead-on. The explosion in the metal gut sent hot air, sparks, and shrapnel blasting outward—
Blowing the suppression patch straight off the back of my neck.
The patch spun twice in the air and hit the ground.
My heart froze.
Shit.
The next second, I smelled it—that familiar sweetness.
But it wasn’t me smelling it.
It was me releasing it.
White peach.
The scent I’d forced down for three years—so long I’d almost forgotten what it really smelled like—burst free between broken steel and rubble. It was too sweet, too clean, sharp enough to sting the back of my throat.
I tried to hold my breath, tried to stop it from spreading, but it was too late.
On the terrace, Ryan’s movement snapped to a halt.
We were still far apart, but I could feel his awareness lunge toward me like a beast. He lifted his head, gaze locking onto something long-lost and euphoric.
His whiskey pheromones started to spill over—hot, sharp, aggressive, like a storm of liquor tearing through the air.
No… no, I can’t let him—
I jumped, pushing off the beam toward the other side, but then I heard it—
A low voice tore through the night, barely more than a growl.
“Found you.”
My heart clenched.
“My little peach.”
His voice was rough with a satisfaction that made instinct crawl over my skin, like he’d finally caught the only scent he’d been chasing for three years.
I didn’t need to listen for footsteps or count distance—his whiskey scent was already closing in, getting stronger and stronger, like it was going to swallow me whole.
I vaulted off the beam. Pain shot up my knee when I hit the floor, but I didn’t have time to care. I had to run. I had to—
But his whiskey was too strong.
It was like someone lit a fuse inside it. It hit so hard my knees almost buckled. My body recognized the scent instantly—extremely dangerous, extremely dominant Alpha—and my own pheromones surged, hammering at my defenses.
I gritted my teeth and forced my legs to move, throwing myself into the shadowed stairwell.
The ground floor exit was only a few steps away when—
A shadow crashed down on me.
He came out of the darkness like it was part of him, hand snapping around my wrist as he slammed me into the wall. Dust rained down with broken concrete.
Whiskey closed around me from every direction.
I looked up and met the same eyes I’d seen three years ago in a pool of blood.
Except now they were fully ignited by my scent—so dangerous it felt like they could burn me down to ash.
He lowered his head and inhaled at the curve of my neck.
Then he laughed. Softly.
“That’s it,” he murmured, voice low and satisfied, like he was tasting some forbidden luxury. “The scent I’ve been dreaming about for three years.”
I shoved at him. He didn’t budge.
“Ryan Kane,” I ground out. “Let me go.”
He lifted his eyes to mine. And in that second, I understood—
This wasn’t a failed assassination.
This was a prey that had been hunted for three years finally getting caught.
His lips brushed my ear, his voice almost lethal in how quiet it was. “You saved me once and think you can run?”
“Not happening.”
His fingers drifted over the skin of my neck, hot from the pheromone surge.
“You owe me a life,” he said, pausing like his words were the edge of a blade against my skin. “I’ll collect it myself.”