Page 66 of The Reaper's Vow
“Your wolf disagrees. She's not ordinary, Karina. Neither are you.”
Part of me wants to reject everything he's saying, to cling to the illusion of normalcy I've lived with for twenty-seven years. But the other part—the part that's always felt different, always struggled to contain something wild beneath my skin—recognizes the truth in his words.
Damien kneels before me, his imposing form somehow making the gesture more powerful than submissive. His hands engulf mine, warm and steady.
“If what you're saying is true...” my voice cracks, “then my entire life has been a lie.”
“Not a lie,” Damien says, his thumb tracing circles on my palm. “A protection. Your parents loved you enough to give up everything—their pack, their status, their very identities—to keep you safe.”
Tears sting hot, threatening to spill. “And now they're gone, and I have no idea who I really am.”
“You're still Karina,” he says firmly. “Nothing changes that. But you're also something more.”
“Will you tell your father about who my mother might be?”
Damien's expression hardens. “I have to. We need his protection, and he needs to understand exactly what we're dealing with.”
He rises from his kneeling position, towering over me again as he sits beside me on the bed. The mattress dips under his weight, causing me to lean slightly into him. “There’s more thatyou should know. Lockhart has been tracking you. When I got to the warehouse, Lockhart's people were waiting. They knew intimate details about your life, your routine.” His jaw clenches. “They've been watching you, Karina. Long before you and I ever met.”
I stare at Damien, his words knocking the air from my lungs. “Months? Before we met? But why? What does he want with me?”
“Elena's bloodline carries something unique—the potential to birth female alphas. In our world, that's the equivalent of having a nuclear weapon.”
I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly cold despite the cashmere sweater. “So, he wants to...what? Breed me?”
Damien's growl is so deep I feel it vibrate through the mattress. “He wants to control your bloodline. Any children you bear would strengthen his pack beyond imagination. He'd rise from a third-rate alpha to the most powerful wolf on the West Coast overnight.”
The word “children” hits me like a punch to the gut. I hadn't even considered that part of the equation—that this isn't just about me, but about what my body could potentially create. The thought of Lockhart or anyone else viewing me as nothing more than a breeding vessel makes bile rise in my throat.
“I will never let that happen, kitten.”
I'm about to respond when a sharp knock cuts through our conversation.
Damien's head snaps toward the door, his entire demeanor shifting instantly from intimate to guarded. “That'll be Gabriel. My father's running out of patience.”
“I'm not ready for this.”
Damien crosses to me in two strides, tilting my chin up with gentle fingers that belie his strength. “You were born ready for this. You just didn't know it.”
The knock comes again, more insistent this time.
“Enter,” Damien calls, his hand finding the small of my back as the door swings open.
Gabriel stands in the doorway, his expression carefully neutral. “Alpha Hudson requests your presence. Immediately.”
“We're coming.”
I follow them through the sprawling mansion, trying to memorize the route as we wind through corridors adorned with artwork that probably costs more than my entire life. Gabriel leads us to the end of a long hallway where double doors loom before us. He knocks once, then pushes them open without waiting for a response.
I hesitate at the threshold, my heart hammering against my ribs. Damien's hand presses gently against my lower back, urging me forward.
“Breathe,” he whispers. “Remember who you are.”
The problem is, I'm no longer sure who that is.
I step into the study, and my breath catches. The room is expansive, lined with bookshelves that stretch from floor to ceiling. A fire crackles in a stone hearth large enough to roast a small animal. But it's not the opulence that freezes me in place, it's the three figures waiting for us.
In the study, sits his father behind the desk. Alpha Hudson Marek is exactly what I'd expect from the father of a man like Damien—broad-shouldered and imposing even while seated, with gray streaks threading through dark hair that's identical to his son's. His eyes, though, are a piercing blue that seems to cut right through me.
