Chapter 2

I turned around and shook my head.

Amelia stood behind me, a cigarette between her lips. But her face was clean now—no longer the girl covered in metal studs.

A black leather skirt clung to her like a second skin, the neckline plunging shockingly low, the hem dangerously short.

This wasn’t the Amelia I knew.

“Y-you… changed clothes,” I said awkwardly.

“What? Don’t like it, or just not used to it?” She spun lightly, the skirt riding even higher.

“New life, new look.”

I couldn’t take my eyes off her.

Her curves. Her exposed skin…

I had never noticed how sexy she was before.

“It’s… very different,” I said, almost in awe.

“Evelyn, listen to me one last time. Don’t become his Luna.”

Her words hit me like a bucket of cold water.

“What?”

“Sebastian Wellington isn’t right for you. He’s too dangerous.” Amelia stepped toward me, her heels clicking sharply against the floor.

“He’s killed people, Evelyn. A lot of them.”

“That’s normal in the werewolf world.” I took a step back.

“And he’s an Alpha. How could his hands not be stained with blood?”

“You never listen!” she hissed, her fingers digging into my arm like claws.

“Tell me—once you become his Luna, are you going to stop seeing me?”

I shook her hand off.

“We’ve had this conversation countless times. You argue with Sebastian every time you see him.”

Amelia’s face hardened. She exhaled smoke irritably, then turned as if to leave.

“Amy, wait.” I caught up to her.

“That’s not what I meant. I’m sorry… I know you’re just worried about me. And I worry about you too.”

I bit my lip, then asked the question that had been tormenting me.

“Do you… have a boyfriend? Is he a werewolf from the Steelmoon Pack?”

Her entire body stiffened.

“Why are you suddenly asking that?”

“It’s nothing. I just noticed your style changed after coming to Steelmoon, so I thought I’d ask.”

I tried to sound casual.

“If you do—and if he’s a werewolf—I just hope you’ll be careful. Stay safe.”

Amelia spun around sharply, crushing the cigarette out—but her anger didn’t go out with it.

“What do I need to be careful about? You think all werewolves are as brutal as Sebastian?”

Her reply didn’t deny that she was seeing someone—and that he was a werewolf.

“I mean… if he likes… rougher things. You need to watch out.”

“Rough?” Her voice turned colder.

“Like what, exactly?”

My face burned.

“Amelia, you know exactly what I mean.”

She suddenly laughed—but the sound sent a chill down my spine.

“Evelyn Whitmore. Little princess.” She advanced on me.

“Do you really think your advice to me is any different from the advice I just gave you?”

“If you won’t listen to me, don’t even dream of me listening to you!”

“Amelia, it’s not the same!”

“How is it not!” she exploded.

“Because I’m human? Because I’m beneath you?”

“You’re always looking down at me from that saintly pedestal, aren’t you? Saint Evelyn.”

“Amelia, I never—”

“Admit it. You just can’t stand that I have things you don’t.”

“A little pleasure. A little danger.”

A dangerous glint flashed in her eyes.

“I’m just worried about you!”

“Worried? Don’t pretend.” Amelia sneered.

“Little werewolf princess, you’re a flower grown in a greenhouse.

Your world is all flowers and diamonds.

Real passion. Real danger—

you wouldn’t even dare to touch it.”

Her words cut like knives.

“I’m leaving. Don’t follow me.”

“Amy, please—”

“Don’t call me Amy!” she shouted.

“I’m sick of your fake sympathy!”

“Amelia!” I ran after her.

“Don’t do this!”

But she was already out the door.

I heard the elevator open, then close.

Then—the roar of an engine.

I rushed to the window just in time to see Amelia tear away on her motorcycle without hesitation.

Where was she going?

I remembered something she had mentioned once.

When she lost control, when she didn’t want to care about anything, she would find some underground street racing club to blow off steam.

But this was Steelmoon Pack territory.

And places like that… chaotic, enclosed, lawless—

for a human girl dressed like that, it was practically a hunting ground.

I didn’t have time to think. I grabbed my keys and ran out of the apartment.

Amelia was my best friend.

Even though we had just had a vicious argument.

Even though she had hurled those words at me like knives.

She had saved my life.

So now—it was my turn to pull her back from the edge.

As I ran downstairs, I texted Sebastian, my fingers shaking, the words uneven:

[Amelia is gone. I’m really worried…]

Then I found the nearest underground street racing club.

The moment the iron door was slammed open, a wave of heat—made of body warmth, desire, and cheap alcohol—hit me in the face.

I scanned the writhing crowd and immediately spotted her motorcycle parked in the shadows—

the bike was there. She wasn’t.

I pushed through the crowd, the bass pounding against my sternum, nearly shattering my heartbeat.

And then I saw them.

In a dim corner, two figures were fused to another motorcycle.

Amelia was pressed against the fuel tank like a trophy, her skirt hiked up, the man’s hands clamped onto her skin like iron.

Their kisses were not gentle—they were biting, devouring.

The man spoke between kisses, his voice low and rough.

“So how did you ditch Evelyn to come see me?”

Breathless, Amelia kissed him back and laughed.

“I just threw a little tantrum on purpose.

That kind little princess is probably at home wringing her hands, worried sick about me right now.”

The world went mute.

My lungs collapsed.

Pain flared in my palm—my nails had pierced skin.

My fiancé.

My best friend.

One was a born predator.

The other, a fragile human who willingly moved closer to danger.

And there they were—

pressed together, rolling in the mire of desire and instinct,

transformed into something I no longer recognized at all.