KANE POV
Kane hasn't slept in three days.
His wolf is screaming. Actually screaming inside his chest like something trying to claw its way out of a cage. He's been locked away in his quarters trying to maintain control, but control is becoming a word that doesn't mean anything anymore.
Around midnight he gives up. Gives up on sleep. Gives up on pretending he doesn't know exactly where she is.
The archives feel cold when he walks inside. Empty. Quiet in a way that makes his skin crawl. But the moment he crosses the threshold, his wolf goes rigid. She's here. Somewhere in this building. He can hear her heartbeat like it's his own.
Kane moves deeper into the room. His eyes shift enough to see in the darkness. Filing cabinets. Shelves. A desk covered in papers. But what he's looking for is her.
There. In the corner behind the door. Trying to disappear into the shadows like shadows could actually hide her from someone who knows her scent like he knows his own heartbeat.
Kane walks slowly. Deliberately. He pulls a file from the shelf above her hiding spot. It's Marcus's records. The boy who died protecting humans three years ago. The boy Iris Vale has been searching for since the moment she found out he was gone.
He faces her directly.
Her eyes are wide. Terrified. But she doesn't run. She doesn't scream. She just stands there in the darkness with her hand halfway to her phone like she's deciding whether to call for help or stand and face him.
Kane speaks first.
"You're looking for your brother."
The words come out rough. His voice has been quiet for so long that speaking feels like dragging metal across stone. Iris flinches but doesn't look away.
"His name was Marcus," Kane continues. "And yes. I know what happened to him."
She opens her mouth but no sound comes out. Her heart is pounding so hard he can feel it in the space between them. Adrenaline. Fear. And something else underneath it all. Something that makes his wolf go completely still.
Recognition.
"Who are you?" Iris finally manages to ask.
"Someone who knows too much," Kane replies. "Someone who's made mistakes that cost lives. Including your brother's."
The words are meant to scare her. Meant to make her understand that she's in danger. That finding answers will only destroy her. But instead of backing away, Iris steps forward.
"Tell me what happened," she says. Her voice is shaking but strong. "Tell me the truth about Marcus."
Kane should refuse. Should walk away. Should tell her that the truth will hurt her more than not knowing ever could. His parents taught him that lesson when their mate bond made them reckless and got them killed. The truth is dangerous. The truth destroys people.
Instead he starts talking.
"Your brother was hiking near our territory three years ago. A rogue wolf attacked some hikers. Marcus stepped between them. Took the full force of the attack protecting people he'd never met." Kane pauses. Remembers the moment his scouts brought the boy's body back. Young. Brave. Dead because he had the kind of heart that doesn't survive in this world. "He died a hero. The pack buried him in our sacred grounds. The highest honor we have."
Iris's eyes fill with tears.
"You killed him," she whispers.
"No," Kane says. And it's the most honest thing he's said in decades. "But I ordered the search called off. I made sure your people never found his body. I kept his memory alive in our archives instead of letting him be a news story. That's not kindness. That's just another way of saying I stole him from you."
Iris's chin shakes. She's crying now, tears streaming down her face. But she doesn't look away from him. She looks at him like he's not made of control and distance and centuries of learned coldness.
She looks at him like she sees something underneath all of that.
And then she moves.
Iris reaches up without asking permission. Without hesitation. Her hand touches the scars on his neck. The deep, jagged lines that run from his collarbone to his jaw. Reminders of the day his family burned. Reminders of the boy he was before he became this.
Kane's entire body goes rigid.
His wolf surges forward so violently he nearly loses control right there. Centuries of restraint cracking like ice under pressure. His fated mate is touching him. Actually touching him. And every cell in his body is screaming at him to claim her. To mark her. To make her understand that she belongs to him now and forever and nothing will ever change that.
He steps back.
Not far. Just enough space to breathe. Just enough distance to remember that he's human. That he has control. That he can't let his wolf destroy the one thing in three hundred and sixty-seven years that feels like home.
"Don't," he says. But it comes out like a plea.
Iris doesn't lower her hand. She's staring at his face like she's trying to memorize every scar. Every broken piece.
"Your eyes," she says softly. "They were gold before. In the archives. How is that possible?"
Kane closes his eyes. Opens them. Forces the gold back down under layers of control that feel paper thin right now.
"There are things about this world you don't understand," he says. "Things that will destroy you if you stay here. People will die. Your life will change. Everything you know will become a lie."
"My brother is already dead," Iris says. And her voice cracks like she's just now accepting it as real. "My life is already destroyed. So what does it matter anymore?"
"It matters because I won't be able to stop myself from keeping you," Kane says. The words escape before he can catch them. Before he can pull them back into the cage where they belong. "If you stay here, Iris Vale, you will become mine. And that's not a promise. That's a warning."
She reaches up again. Touches the other side of his neck. Touches the place where his pulse is racing wildly. Where his wolf is clawing at the cage.
"What if I want to be yours?" Iris whispers.
Kane feels something shatter inside his chest.
He steps closer. Close enough that he can smell her. Close enough to feel her warmth. Close enough that his wolf is practically screaming with need and desperation and centuries of waiting.
"If you stay here, you'll never leave," he says. His voice comes out dark. Dangerous. Made of all the things he's been fighting for three hundred and sixty-seven years.
Iris looks at him. Her brown eyes meeting his gray ones. Her hands still touching his scars like he's not something she should be afraid of.
"Then I guess I'm staying," she whispers.