His Mate, Their Enemy

Chapter 1: Spared By The Moon

RAINA'S POV

The first time I saw death, I was nine.

The rain hammered the forest floor, heavy and relentless, as if trying to wash away what was about to happen. My mother crouched beside me, her silver eyes filled with a fierce kind of sadness. “Baby,” she whispered, gripping my shoulders, “listen to me carefully. You must stay here, no matter what happens. You don’t move.”

My lips trembled. “But Mama”

“No,” she said, her voice thick with urgency, cutting off my protest before it even left my mouth. “You are strong, love. Stronger than you know. Don’t move. Do you hear me?”

I nodded, my breath caught in my throat as I tried to steady myself. The weight of her words pressed on me like an invisible hand, heavy with finality.

She kissed my forehead once, pressing her lips to my skin as if she were trying to seal something important inside me. Then, without another word, she shoved me into the hollow of the old oak tree, urging me deeper into its shelter. The air felt thick with fear and finality as she held me there, her hands warm against my skin. “Don’t move,” she repeated, her voice trembling. “Don’t make a sound. I love you.”

I stayed still, terrified, too scared to move, even to breathe. I pressed my palm to my mouth to stop the sob that threatened to break free. Through the c***k in the tree, I could see the battle unfold the flash of my father’s silver eyes as he fought back against the wolves that attacked us.

He roared in fury, his body shifting as he tore through them with claws and teeth. My mother’s voice joined the chaos, her growl echoing through the trees as she fought beside him. But there were too many of them. The forest grew quiet after that too quiet. The world seemed to hold its breath, the echoes of battle swallowed by silence.

I sat there in the dark, frozen. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t scream. I just bit down on my hand to stop the sound that wanted to rip out of my chest. I watched as my mother and father fought, and I saw them fall.

When it was over, when the growls and snarls faded into stillness, I thought maybe I had died, too. The world felt too silent. Too cold. I stayed hidden, my eyes wide and unblinking, as the blood soaked the forest floor beneath me. The weight of it pressed down, heavy and suffocating.

I didn’t know how long I sat there, but eventually, I saw an old man emerge from the woods. His face was weathered, his hair graying, and he had too many dogs trailing behind him. His eyes softened when he saw me. “Girl,” he said softly, his voice gruff. “What are you doing out here?”

He knelt down beside me, his coat damp with rain and his eyes softer than the storm around us. “What’s your name?” he asked, voice low and gentle, as if afraid to startle the silence. I opened my mouth, then closed it again—words felt too heavy on my tongue. He paused, studying my mud-smudged face by the lantern light, a slow smile creasing his weathered features.

“You look like a storm,” he said finally, and the words didn’t surprise me as much as the warmth behind them did. “Storms can be fierce, but they can also bring life.” He reached out, brushing a stray lock of wet hair from my forehead. “I’m going to call you Raina.” He repeated it once more, as though making sure the name fit exactly right.

I blinked, tasting the new word on my lips, and it felt like coming home. He offered me his hand. “Welcome, Raina,” he murmured, pulling me to my feet. And in that moment, beneath the drumming rain and the shattered forest, I became more than just a frightened child—I became someone with a name and a chance to survive.

He simply gave me a place to stay.

Years passed in silence. Elijah never pried into my past, and I never spoke of it. I never spoke of the night my parents were taken from me, of the screams I still heard in my dreams, of the way the blood soaked into the earth. I buried those memories deep. They were mine. And they were too heavy to share.

But Elijah—he was always there. His calm, steady presence was the anchor I didn’t know I needed. His hands, calloused from years of work, taught me how to survive in a world that wanted to tear me apart. How to make do with what I had, how to live without looking back.

Now, I’m twenty-five. And I’ve returned to Ravendale.

The city is colder than I remember. It’s bigger, too. Glass towers rise up from the earth like jagged teeth, and beneath their polished surfaces, I can still feel the rot. I park my truck in an alley behind the clinic, the rain still falling in sheets, and I stare at the old building in front of me.

Cassian, sitting beside me, shifts in his seat, his eyes scanning the street. “You sure about this?” he asks, handing me a file with my new identity, a transfer letter to this new life I’m about to create. The name on the file reads Dr. Raina Cross.

“I have to be,” I say, taking the file and glancing at it briefly.

He exhales sharply. “You’re not here to heal people, Raina. You’re here for revenge.”

I close the file, my gaze hardening. “Sometimes, they’re the same thing.”

Cassian doesn’t argue, but I can feel the tension in the truck, thick and sharp. I’ve been running for too long. The past is here. It’s waiting for me.

The clinic smells like antiseptic, coffee, and bleach familiar and sterile. I step through the door, my boots clicking against the tiled floor, and the nurse at the front desk looks up at me, a sharp look in her eyes.

“Name?” she asks, tapping her pen against the clipboard.

“Dr. Raina Cross,” I say, handing over my new credentials.

She eyes me for a long moment, then nods. “Let’s see how long you last.”

I smile, but it doesn’t reach my eyes. “Longer than you’d think.”

By midday, I’ve stitched a head wound, treated a sprained wrist, and handed out IV bags to three patients. My hands are steady, but my mind is anything but. I haven’t eaten. I haven’t had time to breathe, because I know he’s close.

Damon Black.

The son of my father’s best friend. The man who inherited an empire built on blood and betrayal. The man who never knew he had a son.

Just as the sun begins to set, I step into the alley behind the clinic to dispose of medical waste. That’s when it hits me—the scent.

Cedar. Charcoal. A familiar smell that stirs something deep inside me.

I turn slowly, and there he is. Damon Black, leaning casually against the side of a sleek black car. His eyes meet mine briefly, the recognition flickering there before he hides it behind a mask of indifference.

He doesn’t know me. Not yet.

But he will.

Because I’m the daughter of the Alphas his family slaughtered.

And the son he doesn’t know about?

He’s not a secret anymore. This time, we’re not running.

This time, we finish it.

RAINA'S POV

The first time I saw death, I was nine.

The rain hammered the forest floor, heavy and relentless, as if trying to wash away what was about to happen. My mother crouched beside me, her silver eyes filled with a fierce kind of sadness. “Baby,” she whispered, gripping my shoulders, “listen to me carefully. You must stay here, no matter what happens. You don’t move.”

My lips trembled. “But Mama”

“No,” she said, her voice thick with urgency, cutting off my protest before it even left my mouth. “You are strong, love. Stronger than you know. Don’t move. Do you hear me?”

I nodded, my breath caught in my throat as I tried to steady myself. The weight of her words pressed on me like an invisible hand, heavy with finality.

She kissed my forehead once, pressing her lips to my skin as if she were trying to seal something important inside me. Then, without another word, she shoved me into the hollow of the old oak tree, urging me deeper into its shelter. The air felt thick with fear and finality as she held me there, her hands warm against my skin. “Don’t move,” she repeated, her voice trembling. “Don’t make a sound. I love you.”

I stayed still, terrified, too scared to move, even to breathe. I pressed my palm to my mouth to stop the sob that threatened to break free. Through the c***k in the tree, I could see the battle unfold the flash of my father’s silver eyes as he fought back against the wolves that attacked us.

He roared in fury, his body shifting as he tore through them with claws and teeth. My mother’s voice joined the chaos, her growl echoing through the trees as she fought beside him. But there were too many of them. The forest grew quiet after that too quiet. The world seemed to hold its breath, the echoes of battle swallowed by silence.

I sat there in the dark, frozen. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t scream. I just bit down on my hand to stop the sound that wanted to rip out of my chest. I watched as my mother and father fought, and I saw them fall.

When it was over, when the growls and snarls faded into stillness, I thought maybe I had died, too. The world felt too silent. Too cold. I stayed hidden, my eyes wide and unblinking, as the blood soaked the forest floor beneath me. The weight of it pressed down, heavy and suffocating.

I didn’t know how long I sat there, but eventually, I saw an old man emerge from the woods. His face was weathered, his hair graying, and he had too many dogs trailing behind him. His eyes softened when he saw me. “Girl,” he said softly, his voice gruff. “What are you doing out here?”

He knelt down beside me, his coat damp with rain and his eyes softer than the storm around us. “What’s your name?” he asked, voice low and gentle, as if afraid to startle the silence. I opened my mouth, then closed it again—words felt too heavy on my tongue. He paused, studying my mud-smudged face by the lantern light, a slow smile creasing his weathered features.

“You look like a storm,” he said finally, and the words didn’t surprise me as much as the warmth behind them did. “Storms can be fierce, but they can also bring life.” He reached out, brushing a stray lock of wet hair from my forehead. “I’m going to call you Raina.” He repeated it once more, as though making sure the name fit exactly right.

I blinked, tasting the new word on my lips, and it felt like coming home. He offered me his hand. “Welcome, Raina,” he murmured, pulling me to my feet. And in that moment, beneath the drumming rain and the shattered forest, I became more than just a frightened child—I became someone with a name and a chance to survive.

He simply gave me a place to stay.

Years passed in silence. Elijah never pried into my past, and I never spoke of it. I never spoke of the night my parents were taken from me, of the screams I still heard in my dreams, of the way the blood soaked into the earth. I buried those memories deep. They were mine. And they were too heavy to share.

But Elijah—he was always there. His calm, steady presence was the anchor I didn’t know I needed. His hands, calloused from years of work, taught me how to survive in a world that wanted to tear me apart. How to make do with what I had, how to live without looking back.

Now, I’m twenty-five. And I’ve returned to Ravendale.

The city is colder than I remember. It’s bigger, too. Glass towers rise up from the earth like jagged teeth, and beneath their polished surfaces, I can still feel the rot. I park my truck in an alley behind the clinic, the rain still falling in sheets, and I stare at the old building in front of me.

Cassian, sitting beside me, shifts in his seat, his eyes scanning the street. “You sure about this?” he asks, handing me a file with my new identity, a transfer letter to this new life I’m about to create. The name on the file reads Dr. Raina Cross.

“I have to be,” I say, taking the file and glancing at it briefly.

He exhales sharply. “You’re not here to heal people, Raina. You’re here for revenge.”

I close the file, my gaze hardening. “Sometimes, they’re the same thing.”

Cassian doesn’t argue, but I can feel the tension in the truck, thick and sharp. I’ve been running for too long. The past is here. It’s waiting for me.

The clinic smells like antiseptic, coffee, and bleach familiar and sterile. I step through the door, my boots clicking against the tiled floor, and the nurse at the front desk looks up at me, a sharp look in her eyes.

“Name?” she asks, tapping her pen against the clipboard.

“Dr. Raina Cross,” I say, handing over my new credentials.

She eyes me for a long moment, then nods. “Let’s see how long you last.”

I smile, but it doesn’t reach my eyes. “Longer than you’d think.”

By midday, I’ve stitched a head wound, treated a sprained wrist, and handed out IV bags to three patients. My hands are steady, but my mind is anything but. I haven’t eaten. I haven’t had time to breathe, because I know he’s close.

Damon Black.

The son of my father’s best friend. The man who inherited an empire built on blood and betrayal. The man who never knew he had a son.

Just as the sun begins to set, I step into the alley behind the clinic to dispose of medical waste. That’s when it hits me—the scent.

Cedar. Charcoal. A familiar smell that stirs something deep inside me.

I turn slowly, and there he is. Damon Black, leaning casually against the side of a sleek black car. His eyes meet mine briefly, the recognition flickering there before he hides it behind a mask of indifference.

He doesn’t know me. Not yet.

But he will.

Because I’m the daughter of the Alphas his family slaughtered.

And the son he doesn’t know about?

He’s not a secret anymore. This time, we’re not running.

This time, we finish it.