Morning came reluctantly.

The penthouse was wrapped in pale winter light, the city below still trembling under the night’s storm.

Clara sat at the kitchen counter, untouched coffee cooling by her elbow. Her thoughts circled around the same questions — the flash of gold in Adrian’s eyes, the growl behind that forbidden door, and the way her pulse had matched his, like two hearts had momentarily become one.

She’d almost convinced herself it was imagination when the elevator chimed behind her.

Nikolai Vance stepped out, half-buttoned shirt, smile lazy but sharp. “Ah, the sleeping beauty lives.”

“Do you live here too?” she asked.

He smirked. “Let’s say I come and go as the beast allows.”

Clara frowned. “You mean Adrian?”

“I mean Wolfe,” he said, the name tasting different in his mouth — like reverence, or warning.

He poured himself coffee, watching her with the kind of gaze that felt like touch. “You went near the east wing last night, didn’t you?”

She stiffened. “How do you—”

Nikolai tapped his temple. “I have good instincts for trouble.”

“Then why didn’t you warn me?”

“I did,” he said simply, voice dropping low. “Just not with words.”

There was something in his tone that made her look at him — really look. The same inhuman glint flickered in his eyes for a fraction of a second, gone before she could name it.

“What are you?” she whispered.

He smiled faintly. “Wrong question, sweetheart. Ask what he is.”

Before she could answer, the elevator doors opened again.

Adrian entered, every line of his body coiled tight. He wore black again — shirt, suit, even his cufflinks — as if color was something he refused to allow in his world.

“Nikolai,” he said flatly. “I thought I made myself clear about breakfast.”

“Relax, Wolfe,” Nikolai drawled, brushing past him. “Just making conversation with your fiancée.”

Adrian’s gaze cut to Clara. “Did he say anything unusual?”

“Only that you don’t like sharing meals,” she said carefully.

He studied her face, as if searching for truth beneath her skin. “He’s not to be trusted.”

She met his eyes. “And you are?”

The air between them shifted — heavy, electric. Adrian’s jaw clenched. “I don’t lie,” he said. “Even when I should.”

“Then tell me what’s behind that door,” she said, standing now, defiant.

He didn’t answer. Instead, he walked past her to the massive window overlooking the city. His reflection in the glass looked darker than it should, eyes catching the light like metal.

“You wouldn’t believe me,” he murmured.

“Try me.”

He turned back to her, something dangerous and vulnerable colliding in his gaze. “I was cursed,” he said quietly. “Long ago. To live as both man and beast — bound by blood, by moon, by hunger.”

She almost laughed, but the weight of his tone silenced her. “You mean—what? You turn into—”

“A wolf,” he finished for her. “When the moon calls. When the rage does.”

Clara shook her head. “That’s impossible.”

“Then tell that to the door you tried to open.”

Her heart kicked hard in her chest. “What’s behind it?”

“My curse,” he said. “And my punishment.”

Nikolai’s voice drifted in from the doorway. “And mine,” he added softly.

She spun. “You too?”

Adrian’s expression tightened. “He’s bound to me. A brother in the old sense of the word — not by blood, but by the beast.”

Nikolai stepped closer, smile fading. “Two halves of the same sin, darling. He holds the rage, I hold the temptation.”

Clara felt the world tilt. “And me? What am I to either of you?”

Adrian’s eyes darkened. “The one who wasn’t supposed to exist.”

Nikolai’s gaze flicked between them, a spark of something unreadable there. “He thinks you can end it,” he said, voice softer now. “The curse. The bond. The hunger.”

Clara’s pulse quickened. “How?”

Adrian’s voice dropped to a whisper. “By surviving me.”

The tension snapped between them — too taut, too alive. Clara stepped closer despite every instinct screaming not to. “And if I don’t?”

He smiled, slow and tragic. “Then you’ll belong to me forever.”

Lightning flared beyond the glass, bathing them in white light. For a heartbeat, Clara saw it again — his shadow merging with something massive, furred, otherworldly.

She stumbled back, breath caught in her throat.

Nikolai caught her arm, steadying her. His grip was firm, his touch careful. “You see it now,” he murmured. “The beast that built his empire.”

Adrian’s gaze flicked to where their hands met — a spark of jealousy, sharp and fast. The air vibrated with it.

“Don’t touch her,” Adrian said, voice low, dangerous.

“She’s not yours yet,” Nikolai countered, tone almost taunting. “Or are you afraid she’ll like my kind of darkness better?”

For a moment, something wild moved in Adrian’s eyes. Then he turned, walking toward the east wing again, voice rough. “Lock the doors tonight. Both of you.”

The door slammed behind him, leaving the two of them in silence.

Clara’s breath trembled. “You should tell me what happens when he loses control.”

Nikolai looked at her with something almost tender. “You’ll know,” he said. “Because you’ll feel it before anyone else does.”

She swallowed hard. “Feel it?”

He leaned closer, voice brushing her ear like a secret. “Because whether you like it or not, Clara Wren — you’re bound to the beast too.”

Outside, thunder growled again — but this time, it sounded less like the sky and more like a warning from something alive.