Chapter 2

Amira POV:

The door of the modified Hummer was kicked wide open, and a towering man in a pitch-black shirt stepped out onto the pavement. Under the neon lights, a jagged old claw scar across his right thumb and index finger caught my eye.

He casually lit a cigarette, his sharp, cold gray eyes sweeping lazily over the crowd. Several low-ranking guards nearby turned pale and stumbled backward, unable to withstand the suffocating pressure rolling off him.

They couldn't name what they were feeling. I could — and only because I had died once already: pure Lycan blood, an ancient, immortal lineage that stood above even the strongest Alphas.

"That's the tyrant from the Dillon Pack..." someone whispered in terror behind me.

I narrowed my eyes as memories from my past life clicked into place. Callen Dillon, the ruthless warlord who had just returned from the overseas wastelands. Ignoring the commotion, I turned and continued walking down the red carpet.

Before I could reach the steps, a stretched Lincoln bearing the Higgins Pack crest swerved in front of me, its tires screeching against the asphalt to block my path. The door opened, and Brayden stepped out with a dark expression. Clinging affectionately to his arm was a petite woman in a pure white dress who looked like a startled deer—Doreen Herrera, the orphan Healer he sponsored.

"Amira, have you had enough of this tantrum?" Brayden stepped right in front of me, releasing his heavy Alpha aura to force my knees to bend.

"Sister, please don't be mad at the Alpha," Doreen said, biting her lower lip as tears pooled in her light brown eyes. "It's all my fault. I insisted on coming tonight just to see the world..."

Around us, the wealthy guests began pointing and whispering.

"Look, that's the wolfless waste from the Sherman family. How dare she throw a fit at Alpha Higgins in public?"

"If I were her, I'd hide at home instead of embarrassing myself next to a talented Healer like Miss Herrera."

"Get out of my way," I said, my gaze sweeping over the pair without sparing a single glance for Doreen's pathetic act.

"What kind of attitude is that?" Enraged by my dismissal, Brayden lunged forward to clamp his hand down on my shoulder.

Right before his fingers touched my skin, a large, calloused hand carrying the crisp scent of tobacco and pine shot out like an iron clamp, catching Brayden's wrist midair.

"Alpha Higgins, treating a beautiful lady this roughly is beneath you," Callen said, appearing beside me as his low, gravelly voice carried a lethal edge.

Brayden's expression shifted violently as he tried to wrench his arm back, only to find the man's grip immovable. "Callen, this is my family matter. An outsider like you has no business interfering."

"Family matter?" Callen let out a low laugh and flung Brayden's arm aside like a piece of garbage. "All I see is a rabid dog barking in the street."

Doreen shrank back into Brayden's chest, peeking up at Callen before dropping her head in terror the second she met the bloodlust in his gray eyes.

"Thank you for stepping in, Alpha Dillon," I said, giving Callen a polite nod before moving to walk past them toward the entrance.

As I brushed past Callen's shoulder, a gust of night wind blew away the last traces of herbal oil on my skin. A faint, pure scent of white lilies drifted straight into his nostrils.

Callen's massive frame went rigid. His cold gray pupils contracted to pinpricks, his Adam's apple bobbing violently as his gaze locked onto the side of my face. For an adult werewolf—and especially a pureblooded Lycan—meeting one's fated mate triggered five undeniable soul and bodily reactions: the intoxicating scent, the physical surge of boiling blood, the sudden peace of a completed soul, the inner beast's roar, and the electric shock of touch.

"Mine," a guttural, barely audible growl rumbled from deep within his chest, vibrating with terrifying possessiveness.

The air between us seemed to catch fire. Alarm bells rang in my head, and I instinctively took half a step back to escape his scorching stare.

"What is your name?" Callen's voice was horribly hoarse. He leaned down slightly, his hot breath brushing directly against the shell of my ear with an undeniable force.

A sharp jolt of electricity zapped from my ear down my spine, making my fingertips tingle. Suppressing the urge to flee, I met his eyes coldly. "Amira Sherman."

"Sherman..." He rolled the surname over his tongue, the corner of his mouth lifting into a dangerous curve as if he had already marked me as his private territory.

Watching us, Brayden's eyes flashed with a sudden, inexplicable flare of jealousy. "Amira, get inside with me right now!"

"Sorry, I don't walk with trash," I replied coldly, turning on my heel to climb the grand steps.

At the top of the stairs, a burly security guard noticed I wasn't wearing a Higgins family badge and reached out to block my path.

I stopped dead in my tracks, my icy stare piercing straight into the guard's eyes. "Let's see who dares to touch me."

Even without an inner wolf showing, the sheer killing intent I had accumulated as a shadow empress in my past life — the title the underworld had given me during the five years after this Pack cast me out, before they dragged me onto that operating table — made the six-foot-three warrior shudder. He stumbled back a step, dropping his arm to clear the way.

Lifting the hem of my red gown, I walked proudly through the grand doors under the stunned gazes of the crowd—and one burning stare that felt like it was branding my bare back. Behind me, Doreen's soft sobs faded into the distance.

Inside the brightly lit hall, a massive electronic screen scrolled through tonight's auction items. Skipping past the rare herbs and ancient weapons, my eyes locked onto the final lot: the deed to the heavily polluted wasteland in East Oakhaven, with a starting bid of one billion dollars.

I walked to the front row of the VIP section and sat down, tapping my fingertips against the armrest. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Callen's tall figure enter the hall and take a seat diagonally behind me, his beastly gray eyes never leaving my skin.