I was never meant to exist in this world.

At least, that’s how it’s always felt.

The foster homes blurred together—some loud, some cruel, some simply too tired to care. The day I turned nine, I stopped asking why no one came back for me. By thirteen, I’d stopped hoping. And by nineteen, I’d learned how to survive without letting anyone get too close.

But tonight—something felt different.

The wind carried something sharp and electric. Like static. Like a warning. It clawed at my skin as I walked down the empty road toward the only place that had ever felt remotely mine: an abandoned train station at the edge of town, half-swallowed by ivy and time.

My chest ached, and my legs trembled, but I didn’t stop.

It wasn’t fear exactly. It was… heat. Building in my blood. A strange pressure rising beneath my skin like something trapped, begging to be let out.

Then it happened.

I fell to my knees as the pain hit—white-hot, blinding. My spine arched, and a scream tore from my throat. It felt like my veins were on fire, like something ancient was waking up inside me, something I’d never invited.

And then the mark appeared.

Carved across my shoulder blade in silver light—a swirling crescent with jagged lines branching from it, pulsing like it had its own heartbeat. It glowed for only a second, then faded into my skin like it had always been there.

I was too breathless to scream again. Too stunned to cry.

What the hell was happening to me?

The silence afterward felt unnatural. Too still. Too aware.

That’s when I felt it—the presence. Not seen, not heard. Felt.

Something… someone was watching me from the treeline.

My heart lurched. I stood slowly, not turning my back to the shadows. “Who’s there?”

Nothing.

But I wasn’t imagining it.

Every instinct screamed at me to run, but my body refused. I stood frozen, staring into the dark, chest heaving, as if something beyond human had just touched me.

Then the wind shifted.

And I smelled it—smoke, pine, and something… masculine. Dominant. Wild.

I didn’t know how to explain it, but I knew this scent. Not from memory, but from something older. Something buried in my bones.

My knees nearly gave out again.

It made no sense. None of it did. I clutched my jacket tighter around me, suddenly freezing even though sweat clung to my back. Whatever had just happened—whatever was inside me—had just announced itself to something in the woods.

And I knew, without understanding how, that he had heard it.

The one who marked me.

⸻

Across town, miles away in the northern territory…

Kale Blackthorn’s eyes snapped open.

The whiskey bottle rolled from his fingers and shattered against the floor, but he didn’t move.

The bond.

It had awakened.

After all these years. After everything he’d done to bury it.

His mark—his fated mate—was alive.

And worse…

She was coming into heat.

“Damn it,” he growled, gripping the edge of the table until the wood cracked beneath his hand.

This couldn’t be happening. Not now. Not with war brewing. Not with rogues circling and Pack law breathing down his neck.

She was supposed to be dead.

Or gone. Hidden. Forgotten.

But the mark didn’t lie.

He could feel her. Hear the echo of her pain through the bond. Taste her fear in the back of his throat like smoke.

And worse than all of it?

He wanted her.

⸻

Back at the station, I was shaking uncontrollably.

My skin still felt too tight. Like I didn’t fit inside it anymore.

The wind howled louder, but I didn’t run. I couldn’t.

Because part of me… didn’t want to.

And that was the most terrifying thing of all.