Rage

Hell is empty

The wall doesn’t budge. My fists are burning. Blood seeps through my knuckles, running hot between my fingers, but still, I keep punching.

One. Two. Three.

Why was he released?

“Evalyn,” my superior’s voice echoes behind me. Controlled. Contained. As always. “He had a lawyer with connections. The judge dismissed the charges due to ‘lack of solid evidence.’ It’s the system. You know how it works.”

No, it’s not the system. It’s a joke. A f*****g farce.

“He had bite marks on his arms,” I growl, without turning around. “A twelve-year-old fae girl named him, loud and clear. He abused her, tried to kidnap her, but she got away. And now he’s out there, walking free?”

“No official report. No semen sample. And you, once again, lost control during the interrogation.”

I swallow hard. My claws are right on the edge. My eyes must be starting to glow. I take a deep breath, trying to push the wolf down. Not now. Not here.

Take the night off." He hands me a bill, without looking me in the eyes. "Have a drink. Hunt someone, if you want. But don’t come back until you remember who you are when you’re not ready to kill someone."

I snatch the money from his hand and walk out without replying.

***

The bar is a dump.

It reeks of repressed pheromones, sweat, and shallow lust.

Still, it’s the perfect place to go unnoticed.

Mystical beings of all kinds are scattered across tables and counters, drinking, chatting, and flirting. I spot a human or two here and there and shake my head.

Half the planet is inhabited by humans and the other half by mystical beings, but that doesn’t stop some of them from coming here for some kind of tourism, out of curiosity or looking for a, let’s say, more supernatural adventure. That rarely ends well. Humans are far too fragile for us.

I sit at the bar and ask for the strongest thing they’ve got. The bartender, a forest Nymph with choppy red hair cut at ear level, grabs a bottle from the shelf behind her. Her skin has a slight glow, like it’s lit from within or reflecting the low light of the bar around her. Her misty green eyes lock on mine as she does it.

"You look like you’re having a terrible night," she says.

"That’s a great understatement."

"I’ve got a little magic powder I can add to your drink, if you’d like. It’ll make you feel like you’ve got stars bubbling through your brain."

"No, thanks. I don’t need anything else bubbling in my brain today."

"Fair enough."

"Just leave the whole bottle."

The first shot burns on the way down. The second goes down smoother. By the third, someone sits down beside me and I feel it.

Not the alcohol.

Him.

A scent.

I don’t know how to describe it. It’s woody, sweet, masculine, wild, and at the same time fresh. Intoxicating. Like the smell of a forest after a storm. One of those storms.

And at the same time… slightly familiar.

My heart skips a beat. The wolf inside me, until now forcibly tamed, stirs violently, awakened by something old, primal. An instinct etched into the soul.

No…

It can’t be. But everything in my body recognizes this scent. It’s like some ancient anchor is pulling me toward it — not toward the man, but toward something that belongs to me.

No. This is impossible. It makes no sense.

"Hello," I hear a smooth male voice say.

My back straightens before I even turn around. When I look at the man who spoke to me, I lose my breath for a second. The wolf inside me roars. Screams. Thrashes like it’s finally found something it’s been searching for for years.

No. No. No.

He is my mate. My fated mate.

The word hits like a punch. A cruel whisper my mind tries to silence, but my body already knows. Every cell recognizes him. Every nerve reacts. It’s him.

The whole world seems to stop.

What the hell is this? Why now? Why today? Why here?

When I look at the man who spoke to me, the first word that comes to mind is: wolf.

The second: Alpha.

And the third: breathtaking.

The man looks at me with a slight crooked smile that makes his features even more captivating. His face blends delicate and striking traits: dark, arched eyebrows frame almond-shaped eyes with long lashes, and golden irises that contrast with his bronzed skin. A sharp jawline ends in a subtle dimple on his chin, and his cheekbones are high and full.

He’s strong, lean, and graceful, like a leopard.

The fourth word that comes to mind is: dangerous.

And the fifth, the one I refuse to say out loud, even in my own mind: mine.

Why would fate put someone like him in my path? I didn’t ask for this. I don’t want this. I don’t want anyone. Not now. Not like this. Not someone I’ve just seen for the first time in my life.

One question sticks in my mind, fighting for space with all the others:

Where have I smelled that scent before?

"Oh, hey," I reply, remembering how to use my voice and trying not to show how shaken I am by his appearance.

I look back at my glass and fill it again.

I hear him order a shot of whiskey before turning back to me.

"Wolf?" he asks.

"Definitely. And you, wolf?"

"No doubt."

In a part of the world where mystical beings of all kinds roam around as casually as possible, work, live, and form relationships, greetings usually start with one’s species.

"You’re the detective in charge of the Elijah Mason case, right?" the wolf asks.

"I swear by the moon," I begin, still staring at my glass, "if you’re about to ask for an autograph…"

"Oh, please. An autograph? You didn’t even come out as the hero of the story."

That one stung.

"Mind telling me why you decided to interrupt my disturbed silence?" I ask, more sharply than I meant to.

"Heard he was released this afternoon. Is that why you’re here, in this dump, drinking that crap like it’s water?"

"I think that’s pretty obvious." I look at him again, more closely. Everything about him screams money, from the rolled-up sleeves of his dress shirt to his haircut and perfectly tailored pants. "And what’s someone like you doing in a dump like this?"

"What do you mean, someone like me?"

"Oh, you know. Rich, powerful, busy. You’re an Alpha werewolf and a businessman, aren’t you, Mr.…"

"Liam. Liam Havoc. You figured that out just by looking at me?"

I shrug and take another shot.

"I’m a detective, remember?"

"Well then, to answer your question, Miss…"

"Evalyn. Evalyn Stone."

"Miss Evalyn Stone, I’m here tonight because I have some business to take care of nearby."

"Like I said. A businessman."

I glance at him again and this time notice the tattoos. They don’t seem to form any specific pattern, but they intertwine all along his forearm. And right there, at the top, like a reminder he needs to see constantly, is the phrase: Hell is empty and all the demons are here... for now.

"Shakespeare," I say casually, nodding toward the tattooed phrase with my chin. "A remarkable human. Shame he didn’t live very long."

"As you well know, life isn’t exactly fair."

"As I well know," I echo, throwing back my next shot. The alcohol has already started working its magic, easing my head and dulling my anger. I realize that now, the idea of him being my mate doesn’t seem so absurd anymore — but that’s the alcohol talking. Maybe I should stop drinking.

"Sometimes I think our justice system was created by a drunk with a terrible sense of humor," Liam says.

That makes me chuckle a little. Finally.

"Pretty accurate description."

"Evalyn."

"Yeah?"

"I decided to interrupt your disturbed silence to say I wasn’t too happy about Elijah being released either."

I raise my glass toward him.

"Cheers to us then. Two bitter souls whose bitterness won’t change a damn thing."

Liam clinks his glass against mine and downs the whiskey in one go with me, without taking his eyes off my face.

Then he leans in a little closer, as if he can’t help himself, his gaze lingering a bit longer on my mouth. He takes a deep breath, like he’s trying to control some impulse, and exhales slowly.

I hold my breath. My whole body shivers with anticipation, blood rushing to my lower belly. I can feel the heat radiating from his body to mine, even without a single touch. But it’s like the touch is right there — on the verge of happening, suffocating, inevitable — and still, restrained.

His golden eyes shine for a moment. And it’s not just desire. It’s recognition. He knows.

He felt it too.

He realized I’m his mate. And just like me, he’s trying to pretend he didn’t. Worse, for some reason I can’t understand, he seems… bothered by it.

Mother Moon… this man is delicious. Everything about him screams danger. The problem is, part of me... wants to listen. The other part is screaming at me to run.

I don’t want this bond. I don’t need it. Not from someone like him. Tall, gorgeous, intoxicating… and absolutely wrong.

This isn’t how I heard it goes. From what people say, when you meet your fated mate, the world explodes into stars. Then the two of you share a passionate kiss and after that… s**t.

"I just wanted to tell you that one way or another, there will be justice," Liam says, pulling back slightly, clearly against his will.

I swallow hard and try to bring back my sarcasm like a shield.

"Oh, good old divine justice. Always late but never fails."

Liam leans in again, his mouth just inches from my ear. My entire body shivers again, and this time, the wolf inside me reacts with a force that scares me.

"No divine justice here. Sometimes, you can’t wait for things to happen naturally. Sometimes, we have to make them happen."

I look into those hypnotic golden eyes. We’re so close his scent fills my head in the most intoxicating way. A scent that’s vaguely familiar. Dangerous. Comforting. Wrong.

Where is that scent from? Where have I smelled it before?

I lean in a bit closer, trying to identify the source of the smell. But the truth is, this close to him, I can’t form a full, rational thought. The wolf in me is in a frenzy, and I… I’m on the verge of giving in.

No. I can’t. He may be my mate, but that doesn’t make him trustworthy. Or safe. Or right.

"What kind of justice do you prefer, Evalyn?" he asks, his face just inches from mine.

My heart is beating so fast I’m sure Liam can hear it with his enhanced wolf hearing. I bet he can hear every uneven beat of my heart. Worse — maybe he likes it.

"The kind that works," I finally reply.

"That’s a good answer," he whispers.

I feel an irresistible urge to touch the velvety skin of his face, to find out how soft those divinely shaped lips really are. I wonder what his tongue would feel like on mine and…

His phone beeps.

The spell breaks instantly. Liam pulls away and looks at the screen.

"Well, duty calls," he says.

What the hell?!

I blink, stunned, my mind still spinning. What the hell just happened here?

"I have to go, Evalyn," Liam says. "How about we continue this conversation another time?"

I stare at him. This man is gorgeous, strong, dangerous, a true alpha wolf. And now, also my mate. I could easily fall under his spell. And that would be my downfall. Because it would be way too easy to get addicted to him.

"I don’t think so," I say. "You strike me as someone complicated, and the last thing I need in my life right now is something complicated."

He watches me in silence for a moment. No protest. No surprise. Just a faint twitch in his jaw, like he’s fighting something I can’t see.

"Well, if you change your mind…" he begins, pulling a card from his pocket. "You know where to find me. Go home, get some sleep. And remember, true justice isn’t late, and it never fails"

He turns and walks away, then disappears into the crowd like nothing ever happened. But I know there’s something there. Something dangerous. Something I don’t understand yet, but I can already feel it on my skin.

I look at the card, which reads “Havoc Industries,” followed by an address and a few phone numbers.

Wait a second. This guy owns a whole conglomerate and was here in this dump? Talking to me? And he’s my mate?

What kind of absurd day is this?

He vanishes into the crowd, leaving behind a woody scent and a question that won’t stop pounding in my head: who the hell is this man, and what does he really want with me?

After that, I throw back a few more shots, let time pass a bit, and then head home slightly unsteady. I think I drank a little too much.

When I get home, I start undressing for bed. That’s when my phone starts ringing. I look at the screen. It’s my boss.

"Yes?"

"Evalyn, where are you?" he asks, sharply.

"I just got home. Why?"

"Did you hear what happened tonight?"

"You’re gonna have to be a little more specific, boss," I reply.

"Elijah Mason was found dead a few minutes ago in an alley. He was beaten to death."

"What the f**k…?"

"When I told you to hunt someone tonight, Evalyn, I wasn’t talking about Elijah Mason."

"Wait a second. Am I a suspect?!"

"Let’s not go that far, alright? Just tell me where you were tonight."

I give him the address of the bar where I spent most of the night drinking and mention that the Forest Nymph who served me could confirm my presence there. I didn’t say anything about Liam Havoc. Not unless it becomes necessary.

"Interesting. Elijah was found dead just a few blocks from the bar you were at. What did you do, Evalyn?"

"Charles, I got drunk and went home. It was just a coincidence. Check the time of death and verify my alibi, and you’ll see I had nothing to do with it."

My superior mutters something under his breath.

"You want me to go to the crime scene and investigate?"

"Oh, of course not! You’re not going anywhere near this case, especially after today. I’ve already assigned another detective to it."

"Great, because I’m drunk and I need to sleep," I say and hang up.

But sleep doesn’t come.

I lie there, staring at the ceiling, my body still warm from the inside out. I don’t even know anymore if it’s because of the alcohol or because of how close he got. My mind is spinning. My heart… well, my heart seems dead set on sabotaging me.

What happened today?

The truth is, Elijah’s case might’ve stirred up a lot of people. Anyone could’ve done that to him.

But then I remember Havoc’s words.

Sometimes, we have to make it happen.

True justice isn’t late, and it never fails

The phrase he repeated before walking out.

Hell is empty and all the demons are here… for now.

Why does it feel like more than a coincidence?

I sit up in bed, hands over my face. I try to shake off the feeling that I’ve gotten myself into something I don’t fully understand. And then I remember where I’d smelled that scent before. The crime scene.

One week ago.

Benedict Vanderbilt: a magnate tortured and killed, all his security guards taken out with almost surgical precision. And there, in that place where the blood hadn’t even fully dried, there was a scent. Almost imperceptible. But there.

The same scent.

His.

Liam Havoc.

While I was investigating, I caught that scent, masked by a forbidden magical essence. I couldn’t identify the source at the time, but now… now there’s no doubt.

Why was his scent at that crime scene? Why did he decide to talk to me today? Why today of all days?

And why, just shortly after, did the criminal who got away unjustly turn up dead?

I should be scared. Or at least cautious.

But all I feel is this damn restlessness in my chest. This heat under my skin. This absurd connection that keeps dragging me closer to him, even when every part of me wants to resist.

I should run. But a part of me wants to find him again. And I need to know… what he really is.

Liam Havoc.

Who the hell are you?

And why are you my mate?