Chapter1

Smack!

A thick stack of papers slammed into my chest, scattering across the floor. The stark black-and-white pages were blindingly harsh under the ballroom's dazzling crystal chandeliers, making my head spin.

"Sign it, and get the hell out of my life."

Irene Winster stood before me. She was wearing a crimson designer gown, the hem pooling around her like dried blood. Those eyes, once so full of warmth, now held nothing but disgust—the kind of undisguised revulsion you'd reserve for a piece of trash. She didn't even bother trying to hide it.

I kept my head down, staring at the divorce papers scattered on the floor. A draft ruffled the pages, exposing the signature line on the final sheet. It was glaringly blank.

I was just bending down to pick them up when—

A glass of red wine was thrown right in my face.

"You worthless loser! You can't even afford a decent suit!"

Helen Winster's voice cut through the room, piercing right through the ballroom's elegant classical music.

"A grease monkey reeking of cheap motor oil thinks he belongs at a Winster family gala? Do you have any idea who's here tonight? The Sterling Group, the Rockefellers, European royalty! Any single person in this room has enough money to buy you out a hundred lifetimes over!"

I didn't say a word.

All around us, New York's elite stopped their conversations, their eyes locking onto me. Some swirled their champagne with mocking smirks; others leaned in to whisper, their voices perfectly pitched so I could hear every word.

"Is that him? Irene's ex-husband?"

"Ex-husband? More like a deadbeat. Old man Winster lost his mind at the end, forcing his granddaughter to marry him to repay some imaginary debt. Well, the old man's dead now, so it's time to take out the trash."

"Tsk. Pathetic, isn't it? Look at that suit. My maid dresses better than him."

Harsh laughter erupted from all sides, pricking my skin like countless needles.

I wiped the wine from my face. My throat felt tight, but I couldn't force a single word out.

If it wasn't for her, would I have ever signed that Vow? Would I have sealed away my powers and played the fool in a greasy auto shop for three years?

My mind drifted back to that night three years ago.

Irene's grandfather had been lying in his deathbed, his frail, bony hand gripping my wrist with surprising strength. His cloudy eyes had been full of desperation.

"Rex... I know what you are. But Irene... she's just a normal girl. Your world is too dangerous for her. Promise me... seal your powers away. Live a normal life with her. Just for three years. In three years, the Vow will break on its own... and then, if you still want to, you can decide if you want to go back..."

I had promised him.

Because that old man had saved my life. When I was critically wounded, hunted with nowhere left to run, he took me in. He fed me, gave me a roof over my head, and even offered me his granddaughter's hand in marriage.

I thought Irene was in on it.

Now, it was obvious she didn't know a damn thing. Or maybe she just didn't care.

"That's enough, Victor. Let's not ruin the carpet."

Irene impatiently kicked the scattered papers at her feet, her voice as cold as ice.

"Rex, you aren't even worthy of kneeling before him. Sign the papers and get out."

Victor Sterling.

The king of New York's underworld and the CEO of the Sterling Group. He was wearing a perfectly tailored black suit, the Patek Philippe on his wrist catching the light with a subtle but arrogant gleam. He tilted his head slightly, looking down his nose at me with a smirk, like he was admiring a pathetic little toy.

He wasn't just a billionaire. He was an elite Lycan.

I knew that scent well. Even with my powers sealed, my primal instincts were still there. He was radiating a faint Alpha aura—a beast wearing human skin, ready to bare its fangs at any moment.

And right now, that beast had his hand resting on Irene's waist.

Irene didn't pull away. Instead, she leaned into him, pressing herself against his chest. She looked up and gave him a sweet smile—a smile I had seen a thousand times before, but right now, it looked terrifyingly alien to me.

"Just sign it, Rex."

Victor finally spoke. His voice was calm, the tone you'd use for someone completely beneath your notice.

"A woman of Irene's status belongs with someone like me. You could never give her the life she deserves."

I didn't even look at him. I bent down, picked up the pen from the floor, and signed my name on the dotted line: Rex Kane.

My handwriting was a little sloppy because my hand was shaking. Not from anger, and not from grief, but because of that damn Vow. It had sealed away so much of my power that right now, I was physically weaker than an average human.

I stood back up and tossed the signed papers onto a nearby table.

"Are we done here?"

Irene didn't answer. She didn't even look at me. Instead, she turned to Victor. "Let's go get a drink, Victor. The air over here reeks."

I stood there for a moment, watching them disappear into the sea of guests. Then, I slowly turned and headed for the exit.

As I wove through the crowd of socialites, I heard the snickers and the whispers. Someone even coughed loudly, waving a hand in front of their face like they were shooing away a stray dog.

I didn't look back.

I pushed open the heavy oak doors and stepped out into the Manhattan night. It was pouring. The howling wind drove the freezing rain right into my face, chilling me to the bone.

I stood under the awning and took a deep breath. The air smelled of rain and exhaust fumes. The city was as loud as ever, the neon lights bleeding through the downpour like a waterlogged painting.

I pulled my threadbare suit jacket tight across my chest, walked down the steps, and vanished into the storm.

The rain soaked me to the skin, the freezing cold leaving me numb. I stumbled through the streets of Manhattan, not knowing where I was going, only knowing I needed to get as far away from that ballroom as possible.

That was when a faint burst of static caught my ear.

An earpiece.

My powers were sealed, but my Lycan hearing was still sharper than any human's. Through the torrential rain and the thick glass of the ballroom windows, I picked up Victor's voice. He was whispering into a hidden mic on his lapel.

"You don't just kick a stray dog out."

His voice was low, but every word pierced my ears like a needle.

"Shatter his limbs and dump him in the Hudson."

"I want him to disappear tonight. Permanently."

I quietly wiped a trickle of blood from the corner of my mouth—the physical toll of the Vow's backlash from my rising anger.

The rain was coming down harder now.

Dragging my exhausted, aching body, I silently veered off the street and into the pitch-black depths of an alleyway.

If they were coming for me, let them come.

I had nothing left to lose anyway.