Chapter 3

Valerie POV：

If the Federation ever uncovered the true nature of my bloodline, it wouldn't be as simple as being kept safe. Freedom would be off the table entirely; foreseeably, I would become nothing more than their collective property.

That was why I had forced Professor Vaughn at the hospital to sign a blood-sealed non-disclosure covenant. I watched him incinerate the physical records into ash and wiped my official files clean from the hospital's central mainframe. As far as the bureaucratic registry was concerned, I was merely an ordinary, unshifted civilian holding an unassuming license: Holistic Lupine Neuro-Therapist.

A private therapist. By referral only.

The original Valerie had been remarkably accomplished in her own career, leaving me with a sizable fortune and a luxurious villa.

Soaking in the warm, bubbling water of my new clawfoot tub, I couldn't help but laugh aloud. In my previous life, I had been a miserable graduate student surviving on cold instant noodles, slaving eighty hours a week under a toxic advisor until my heart literally gave out at three in the morning.

And now? I possessed an ancient, god-tier bloodline capable of curing the most terrifying affliction plaguing high-society shifters with a flick of my fingers. I had no interest in saving the world, and I would never become a state-owned incubator for pureblood dynasties. My plan was simple: lease a quiet office in a leafy suburb, take on three wealthy, desperate clients a month, charge them astronomical consultation fees, and spend the rest of my days sleeping in, drinking vintage wine, and living like royalty.

It was the ultimate retirement plan.

Wrapped in a plush, charcoal-gray silk robe, I padded barefoot into the living room of Blackwood Sanctuary—the secluded old stone manor at the edge of the northern pine district. I poured myself a chilled glass of white wine, letting the tranquil rain outside wash away the lingering stench of that underground lounge.

Then, the hair on the back of my arms stood straight on end.

The room hadn't grown loud. It had turned terribly, unnaturally quiet.

The steady rhythm of the rain seemed to fade into a dead vacuum. A suffocating, bone-chilling pressure descended upon the house—so thick and heavy that the air in my lungs turned to liquid frost. In my hand, the surface of the wine began to tremble with fine, nervous ripples.

Someone was here.

Panic pierced my veins like a white-hot needle. My heart slammed against my ribs as I backed toward the kitchen island, fingers frantically searching for a ceramic chef's knife. I was an unshifted female trapped in a dark house, and whatever prowled outside that front door sat so high upon the food chain that my human instincts screamed at me to curl up and play dead.

There was nowhere to run. The rear patio opened straight into a pitch-black, frozen wilderness.

Click.

The heavy front door wasn't battered down. The deadbolt merely groaned as the steel lock cylinder sheared clean through under an effortless, terrifying grip from the other side.

The door swung inward with a slow, agonizing creak.

A blast of sub-zero wind swept through the foyer, carrying the sharp, metallic stench of fresh blood and wild pine.

Framed in the doorway against the rainy darkness stood a man.

He was colossal—standing well over six-foot-three, his broad, battle-hardened shoulders practically brushing against both sides of the frame. He wore a heavy, tailored military greatcoat, its front soaked in deep crimson and torn wide open at the chest. His hair was the color of a blinding winter blizzard, plastered across his brow by sweat and melting rain.

He stepped inside, each heavy combat boot leaving a wet, red smudge across my floorboards.

He drew no weapon. He spoke no word. Yet the pure, suffocating gravity radiating off his frame pinned me where I stood, like a rabbit caught in the crosshairs of a rifle. His eyes—pale, luminous glacial ice—burned with an erratic, feral madness bordering on total delirium.

Then, his chest heaved. His flared nostrils caught the faint, cool ozone scent seeping from my skin.

The lethal, terrifying Alpha before me froze in his tracks.

The frozen glare in his eyes fractured. Right atop his silver hair, two massive, snow-white wolf ears twitched sharply, then pinned themselves flat against his skull in a posture of desperate, breathless pleading.

A broken, agonizing whine tore from his throat. Before I could even scream for help, the terrifying mountain of a man collapsed heavily to his knees right at my bare feet.