Page 1 of His Claim
PROLOGUE
Colorado
One year post Collapse…
Varek Dain
I never used to think about endings.
Not the last breath of a quiet day or the final time someone’s hand touched mine. Not the slow unraveling of peace. Not the way things could go from calm to chaos in the span of a single heartbeat.
But that night? That fucking night? It taught me everything about endings. The kind that scar you for the rest of your life. The kind you never get over.
We were in the kitchen, or what passed for one. The stove rattled in protest, one of the burners limping to life as the scent of rosemary and roasted potatoes filled the tiny room. I stirred the pot, elbow-deep in steam, while Elena leaned over the counter,her face flushed with warmth and laughter. Her laughter. Fuck, that sound could break me even now.
“You’re burning it,” she said, nudging me with her hip.
“I am not,” I shot back. “I’m browning it. There’s a difference.”
She grinned, stealing a piece of potato straight from the pan and popping it into her mouth before I could swat her away. “You season like a wolf. All salt and rage.”
“That doesn’t even make sense.”
“You’re right,” she said, tapping her chin dramatically. “You’re more of a tragic poet with a spoon.”
I laughed because she always had a way of coaxing it out of me, even when the world outside our walls felt like it was coming apart at the seams. And it was. We both knew that. The radio had been silent for days now. People had started vanishing from nearby settlements. For those few hours, though, with her standing beside me in my shirt as the firelight turned her hair into gold, I let myself believe we were still safe.
I turned the burner down, letting the potatoes crisp, and stepped behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist. Her breath caught, just like it always did when I got close, like she couldn’t believe it was real. Her head tilted back against my shoulder, and I buried my nose in her neck, just breathing her in.
“After we eat,” I murmured, “let’s take the old radio out. Maybe we can catch something.”
She nodded, her fingers weaving through mine where they rested on her stomach. “Or maybe we just sit under the stars. Pretend we’re the last ones left.”
I didn’t answer. Not because I didn’t want to, but because the air had changed in that instant. It was like the warmth had been ripped from the room. The silence outside became too quiet, and the wind shifted. My instincts prickled, the hair on the back of my neck rising even though I hadn’t been a soldier in quite a long time.
Elena felt it too. She stiffened.
Then came the first sound, a low thump. Muffled. Distant.
“Varek?” she whispered.
I grabbed her arm and moved fast, crossing to the far wall where the shotgun hung in its makeshift rack. I shoved it into her hands, and the terrified look on her face made my heart throb in my chest.
The first howl split the night like a blade across my throat. My blood froze, every instinct screaming at me todo somethingbefore my mind could catch up.
“Elena.” My voice somehow sounded composed and calm even though my heart thundered against my ribs. “Run.”
She blinked at me, confusion etched across her face, her hand clutching the wooden spoon like it could ward off what was coming. “What? No?—”
“Run.” I grabbed her shoulders and captured her eyes, forcing her to see me, to understand. “Out the back, straight to the ridge. Don’t stop. Don’t look back. I’ll find you.”
Her lips parted, trembling, but she nodded. She trusted me. She kissed me once, quick and desperate, and then she was gone, the fabric of my shirt swishing against her thighs as she slipped out the back door into the night.
The door splintered inward a second later.
They swarmed inside like shadows made flesh, eyes blazing amber, teeth bared, their snarls rattling the walls. I didn’t think. I just moved. The first wolf lunged, and I drove the butcher’s knife straight into its throat. Hot blood sprayed, iron-thick and steaming. The second hit me low, teeth snapping for my leg, and I kicked it off with a loud roar, sending it sprawling into the table. Bread, dishes, the pan—everything crashed to the floor.
My pulse hammered in my ears. My body was alive with fire, my arms and legs moving on instinct. This wasn’t a fight for survival. This was a fight for her.
