Sleep, when you’re a werewolf with an encrypted drive full of corporate secrets under your pillow, isn’t really sleep. It’s just waiting with your eyes closed.

  Glass tapped. Once. Twice. I was awake before the third.

  My hand shot under the pillow, fingers closing around the cold handle of the taser. I was out of bed and crouching by the sill.

  3:00 AM. The witching hour. Or in Chicago, the hour the smog settles low enough to taste.

  I pressed my back against the wall, listening.

  Tap. Tap.

  Nothing human climbs thirty stories of sheer glass and steel without a suction cup suit or a death wish.

  “Handy,” I subvocalized. “Threat assessment. What’s on my balcony?”

  “One heat signature,” the AI murmured, his voice groggy. “Humanoid. Elevated pulse. And… Nikki, the electromagnetic interference is off the charts. It’s him.”

  I froze.

  Danny.

  I unlatched the lock and shoved the heavy glass door open. The wind howled in, smelling of rain and impending violence.

  He was there.

  Danny Troy stood on the narrow balcony, shivering. He looked like he’d gone ten rounds with a garbage disposal and lost. His gray hoodie was soaked dark, clinging to his frame.

  He wasn't cool. He was shaking. Water dripped from his nose.

  “Danny?” I lowered the knife, but I didn't put it away. “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be in Seattle.”

  “I couldn't go,” he rasped. His teeth chattered.

  I grabbed his arm—electricity snapped against my palm, sharp and biting—and yanked him inside. I slammed the door shut, locking out the wind.

  “You’re freezing,” I said. “And you’re stupid. Do you know how many sensors you just tripped?”

  “I jammed them,” he said, leaning against my dresser for support. Water dripped from his jeans onto my carpet. “The scrambler… I turned it up. Max output.”

  “You’re going to fry my brain,” I muttered, though I could already feel the static buzzing in my teeth. It wasn't painful this time. It felt like a live wire connecting us.

  He looked at me, his dark eyes wide and pleading. “They took him, Nikki.”

  “Who? Took who?”

  “My father.”

  I blinked. “Your father? Who took him?”

  “Pandora,” Danny said. “Agents. I don’t know. I got a message… a distress signal on the encrypted channel. He’s been contained. They found out about… about me.”

  He ran a hand through his wet hair, pacing the small space between my bed and the desk.

  “They know I’m a Dhampir, Nikki. Or they suspect. They’re holding him to get to me. They want me to come in. To surrender.”

  My stomach twisted.

  Moldark was a clever monster. Only one reason he would need Danny to save his father.

  Trap, the logical part of my brain screamed. It’s a lure. They want you both in the same room so they can bag the set.

  But then I looked at Danny. I saw the way his hands shook. I saw the genuine, unadulterated terror in his eyes. He believed it. He was scared for his father—the man who wouldn't leave his son alone. Only because he loved his son.

  “They want you to come to the tower,” I said slowly.

  “Yes. Tonight. Now.” He looked at me. “I can’t do it alone, Nikki. I know… I know I’m a liability. I know you cut me loose. But I don’t have anyone else. I can’t fight an army.”

  “You want me to help you save the man who wanted to keep you in a closet,” I stated.

  “I want you to help me save my dad.”

  He looked so broken. So young.

  I sighed, the sound loud in the quiet room.

  I knew it was a trap. I knew we were walking into a meat grinder.

  But I also knew I wasn't going to let him walk into it alone.

  “Okay,” I said.

  He slumped, relief washing over him so visibly it was painful to watch. “Okay?”

  “We go. We get him. We get out.” I walked over to my closet and grabbed a dry towel. I threw it at him. It hit him in the face. “Dry off. You’re dripping on my homework.”

  If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  He pulled the towel down, clutching it like a lifeline. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me yet. We’re probably going to die.”

  I turned to grab my closet, but I stopped. The silence in the room had shifted. The air got thin. My ears popped.

  I turned back.

  Danny hadn't moved. He was holding the towel, just staring at me.

  “Why?” he asked softly.

  “Why what?”

  “Why help me? After everything I said?”

  I looked at him. The Ice Queen mask was in pieces on the floor. I didn't have the energy to put it back together.

  “I lied,” I whispered.

  He stepped closer. The static hummed louder.

  “You lied?”

  “At school,” I said, stepping into his space. I didn't care about the damp clothes. I didn't care about the chill coming off him. “I said you were boring. I said you were a distraction. I said I didn't care.”

  I grabbed his shirt. 'I lied,' I said. 'You're not boring.'

  His eyes searched mine, scanning for the truth. “You were protecting me?”

  “I was trying to. Turns out I’m bad at it.”

  “You’re terrible at it,” he agreed.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “For hurting you. For the ‘boring’ comment. That was low.”

  “It was effective.”

  He dropped the towel. It fell to the floor, forgotten.

  He reached out, his hand hovering near my face. He waited. Asking permission.

  I didn't give permission. I took action.

  I grabbed the front of his soaked hoodie and yanked him down.

  He didn't kiss me; he crashed into me. Teeth and breath.

  It wasn't gentle. It wasn't the sweet, tentative kiss in the greenhouse. This was frantic. It was a collision of fear and relief and weeks of pent-up adrenaline. It tasted of rain and mint and blood.

  He made a noise—half-groan, half-sob—and wrapped his arms around me, lifting me off my feet.

  The static exploded.

  Zap.

  It sparked between our chests, a jolt of electricity that should have hurt. Instead, it felt like fuel.

  I wrapped my legs around his waist as he stumbled backward, hitting the bed. We went down in a tangle of limbs and damp fabric.

  “Nikki,” he gasped against my neck, his lips cool on my heated skin. “Wait. The mission. My father.”

  “We have an hour,” I whispered. “Before the war.”

  The wolf was howling in my head, pacing, scratching at the door. It recognized the mate. It recognized the moment.

  Mine, it roared. Claim.

  I kissed him again, biting his lower lip hard enough to taste copper. He responded instantly, his hands tangling in my hair, pulling me closer until there was no air left between us.

  We tore at clothes.

  His hoodie was heavy, wet, impossible. I fought with the zipper, frustrated, until he ripped it off over his head.

  His skin was marble-pale in the dim light, smooth and cold, but underneath, his muscles were coiled tight as steel cables.

  My t-shirt went next. Then the rest.

  When skin hit skin, the static snapped. White light. Silence.

  It was fire and ice. He was so cold, and I was running so hot. The contrast sent shivers racing down my spine that had nothing to do with the temperature.

  He hovered over me, bracing himself on his arms. He looked down, his dark eyes blown wide, swallowing the light.

  “Are you sure?” he whispered. His voice was ragged. “Nikki, I’m… I’m dangerous. The Thirst…”

  “I’m dangerous too,” I said, reaching up to trace the line of his jaw. “I’m a predator, remember? I don’t break.”

  I pulled him down.

  When he entered me, I gasped. It wasn't pain. It was a sudden, overwhelming sense of fullness. Of completion.

  We moved fast. Too fast. Like we were running out of time.

  He was strong. Terrifyingly strong. I could feel the restraint in his muscles, the way he held back the vampire strength to keep from hurting me.

  But I didn't want him to hold back.

  I dug my nails into his shoulders. My claws slipped out—just the tips—scoring lines of red across his pale skin.

  He hissed, his eyes flashing that deep, dangerous crimson.

  “Don’t hold back,” I whispered against his ear. “I can take it.”

  He groaned, a low, animal sound, and the restraint snapped.

  He moved faster, harder. The bedframe creaked in protest. The static buzzed in my ears, a rising crescendo.

  My inner wolf threw back its head and howled. It was pure ecstasy. A blending of human pleasure and animal instinct that blurred the lines of my reality.

  I was the girl. I was the wolf.

  I felt him everywhere. The weight of him. The cold press of his skin. The heat of his breath.

  We chased the oblivion together. We ran toward the edge of the cliff, hand in hand, and jumped.

  When the climax hit, it shattered me.

  I cried out, arching off the mattress, my vision going white. I felt him shudder against me, a deep release that seemed to shake the foundations of the tower.

  We collapsed.

  He fell onto me, burying his face in the crook of my neck. His breathing was harsh, ragged gasps that matched my own.

  The room was silent, save for the sound of our lungs working and the faint hiss of the rain against the window.

  The quiet came back. And with it, the fear. His dad was still gone.

  Danny shifted, rolling to the side but keeping an arm draped over my waist. He pulled the duvet up, covering us.

  He kissed my shoulder. A small, tender thing.

  “Nikki,” he murmured.

  I turned my head. He was looking at me with an expression that terrified me more than any drone or vampire.

  It was adoration.

  “I love you,” he said.

  The words hung in the air. Simple. Absolute.

  My heart gave a painful squeeze.

  “I love you too,” I whispered back.

  It felt like a vow. A promise forged in static and sweat.

  But as I looked at his face—softened by the aftermath, yet still shadowed by the war waiting outside—a cold knot of dread tightened in my stomach.

  This was it. The peak. The moment of perfection before the drop.

  I clung to him, burying my face in his chest, breathing in the scent of him.

  Memorize this, I told myself. Memorize the beat of his heart. The feel of his skin. Because this morning …

  War.

  And in the back of my mind, beneath the glow of the love and the lingering heat of the wolf, a quiet voice whispered the truth I didn't want to hear.

  This wasn't just a hello.

  It felt terrifyingly like a goodbye.