Chapter 12: Serena’s POV

I knew the Garrets had long memories, but I didn't expect them to move this fast.

I'd barely turned back to deal with those eight hundred gold coins when they came. He'd sent at least thirty cutthroats from the black market.

It had been less than two hours since I left that street, and the trackers hadn't let up once.

I sprinted across the tangled rooftops of the lower city, my lungs burning like they were on fire.

Then the rain started.

Bang.

I kicked through a rotting skylight and tumbled down into a dead-end alley.

I skidded to a stop.

At the far end, four hulking thugs—already half-shifted—blocked the way out. Behind me, three more had sealed off the route back to the main street.

"What's wrong, little mouse? Run out of road?" The scarred one in front bared his fangs. "Young Master Garrett says break all four limbs, keep her breathing. He wants to skin her himself."

The rain was coming down harder now.

I straightened slowly and drew the silver dagger from my boot with one hand, the short blade at my hip with the other.

Seven thugs. On a good day I could work the terrain, buy myself angles. But the fight with Garrett, and then this dead sprint—I'd burned through too much. The wolf inside me threw back its head and snarled, bracing for the bloodbath.

"Skin me?" I let a cold smile curl at the corner of my mouth. "Then let's see how many lives you're willing to spend tonight."

The words weren't even out before the three behind me lunged.

I dropped low and dodged the first set of claws, driving my silver blade deep into one thigh. I was already pivoting toward the other two when a sharp crack split the air above me.

Crash—

A dark figure dropped from the sky and slammed into the puddle behind me.

The shockwave sent both werewolves flying before they could reach me.

Through the curtain of rain, a man in a black leather jacket rose to his feet. He didn't even draw a weapon—just shook the water off his wrist like he had all the time in the world.

Lan.

"I take my eyes off you for one night," he said, tilting his head toward me, "and you've already made enemies of every thug in the lower city?"

I blinked. My heart gave a sharp, involuntary lurch. "What are you doing here? There are too many of them—you'll get dragged into this!"

"We shared a drink and swore the oath." He rolled his neck; his joints popped. "Leaving a brother behind to save your own skin—that's not how I operate."

Across the alley, the scarred one flinched back half a step at the weight of Lan's presence, but the numbers gave him courage. He let out a roar. "I don't care who you are. You stick your nose in Garrett family business, you die with her. Everyone—go!"

Five half-shifted thugs charged at once.

"Three on the left are mine. Two on the right are yours." Lan's voice came low, right beside my ear.

"Deal."

No signal needed. The moment the first one hit our range, we moved together.

I had never felt anything like it. For ten years I'd fought alone—covered every blind spot myself, trusted no one to watch my back. But now, as Lan's broad back pressed against mine, something strange and unfamiliar swept through me: the feeling of being safe.

I dropped into a slide and cut the tendon above one enemy's heel with my blade. In the same instant, Lan's fist drove straight through the jaw of the werewolf trying to flank me from behind.

We moved like two creatures built from the start to fight side by side. I was speed and precision—silver edges and misdirection. He was something immovable, a wall of force that crushed everything that tried to get close to me.

"Down!" Lan barked.

I dropped without thinking. A rush of air swept over my head as Lan seized a werewolf pushing two hundred and fifty pounds with a single hand and hurled him like a sack of rags straight into the scarred leader at the end of the alley.

Boom.

The last two fell into the pooling blood. The whole fight had taken less than three minutes.

The alley went quiet except for the hammering rain and the low groans of the men on the ground.

"The city guard's patrol will be here any second—move!"

Lan grabbed my wrist and hauled me up the fire escape beside us, and we threaded through the maze of rooftops at a dead run.

We ran for a full twenty minutes through the rainy night. Only when the sounds of pursuit had completely faded did Lan pull me into a storage room at the top of a clock tower.

Clang. He turned and threw the bolt on the iron door.

The space was barely big enough to stand in—thick with dust and the smell of old wood. We were crammed into a corner barely two square meters, backs against the wall, both of us breathing hard.

The room was too small. His body was almost flush against mine.

My heart kicked into a frantic rhythm. This was a dangerous distance.

"Have you lost your mind?" Lan's voice came low as he looked down at me. "Going after the Garrett family? If I hadn't happened to be passing by tonight, how exactly were you planning to get out of that? Did you think you had nine lives?"

"I would have handled it even without you," I shot back, and tried to shift away.

"With that blade of yours that's shorter than my hand?" He let out a short, cold laugh. He reached out and planted one hand flat against the wall beside my face.

The gesture cut off my retreat entirely. He had me boxed in, swallowed up by his shadow.

I snapped my head up and found his eyes in the dark—bottomless, unreadable. For just a moment I thought I glimpsed something deep inside his pupils: a brief flash of dark red, like an ember. Then it was gone so fast I told myself I'd imagined it.

"Listen to me, little mouse. Half your life belongs to me now. Until I say otherwise, stop throwing it away so carelessly."

I glared at him. By rights I should have been furious at those high-handed words. But for reasons I couldn't explain, looking into those eyes, the wolf inside me went still—calm in a way I almost never felt.

The tension drained out of my shoulders.

I reached up and gently pushed his arm away from the wall.

"Got it, big guy," I said quietly. "Tonight—thank you. I owe you one."

Lan went visibly still. He seemed genuinely caught off guard by how simply and directly I'd said it.

"I'll put it on your tab," he said, straightening up and stepping back half a pace. "After forty-eight hours I'll collect—with interest."

I leaned against the wall, listening to the rain, and pressed my hand quietly over my hammering chest.

Serena, you're in trouble. You've actually started trusting this man who came from nowhere.