Marked by the Apex.

The Predator’s Den

The ride to the Syndicate’s spire was a blur of rain-slicked asphalt and the heavy, expensive scent of leather inside the armored SUV. I sat huddled against the door, my wrist still throbbing where Kaelen Vance’s hand had branded my skin. Every time the car hit a bump, the silver-and-onyx ring hidden in my sleeve bit into my forearm—a constant, metallic reminder that I was a dead woman walking.

Beside me, Kaelen was a statue carved from shadows. He didn't look at me, but I could feel his heat. It was an invisible tide, pulling at the frayed edges of my soul. My wolf, usually a silent ghost in the back of my mind, was pacing. She wanted to crawl across the seat and bury her face in the crook of his neck.

Shut up, I snarled at her internally. He’s a monster. He’s the Apex.

"You're shaking," Kaelen said. His voice was a low, velvet rasp that made the hair on my arms stand up.

"I'm cold," I lied, my voice cracking.

"You're a liar," he countered, finally turning his head. Those obsidian eyes pinned me to the seat. "You’re not cold. You’re terrified. And you’re reacting to me."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

He leaned in, closing the distance until I could smell the dark cedar and rain on his skin. It was an intoxicating suffocating force. "The bond is a funny thing, little thief. It doesn’t care if you’re a criminal. It doesn’t care that I should have your head on a platter for touching what belongs to me. It only cares that you are mine."

"I am nobody's," I snapped, the old street-fighter in me rising to the surface. "Especially not yours."

The car came to a smooth halt. We were in the underground hangar of the Vance Towers. The doors opened, and the two bruisers from the club—Beta guards who looked like they enjoyed breaking bones—stepped out, waiting for me.

"Take her to the North Suite," Kaelen ordered as he stepped out, not sparing me another glance. "And find the ring. If she’s swallowed it, I want to know."

The Gilded Cage

The "North Suite" was a prison, even if the floors were heated marble and the bed was covered in silk that felt like liquid against my skin. The guards had searched me, of course. They were thorough, but they weren't used to girls from the 042 slums. I’d palmed the ring and tucked it into the hollow molding of the ornate bedframe before they could blink.

I paced the room like a caged animal. My mind was racing. Jax would be looking for me, but Jax was a hacker, not a commando. He couldn't get through Syndicate firewalls, let alone their physical security. I was on my own.

I walked to the floor-to-ceiling window. The city stretched out below me, a grid of neon blue and dirty orange. From up here, the 042 looked like a smoldering wound. That was my home. That was where I belonged—among the trash and the survivors. Not here, in the clouds, with a man who could end my life with a whisper.

The door clicked open.

I whirled around, grabbing a heavy crystal decanter from the sideboard. I didn't care if it was filled with thousand-dollar whiskey; I was going to use it as a club.

Kaelen stepped in, his jacket gone, his white shirt unbuttoned at the collar. He looked less like a businessman and more like the predator he was.

"Put it down, Elara," he said.

"How do you know my name?"

"I know everything about you now. Elara Thorne. Age twenty-two. No pack affiliation. A history of petty theft and high-end heists. You’re a ghost, Mouse. Or you were, until you tripped over me."

He walked toward me, and despite every instinct telling me to strike, my legs felt like lead. The closer he got, the louder the humming in my blood became. It was the mate bond, a primal tether that defied logic.

"I want my ring," he said, stopping just inches away.

"I lost it in the club," I lied, even though my heart was hammering a rhythm that screamed LIAR to his supernatural senses.

He laughed, a dry, humorless sound. "You're a terrible liar for a professional thief. Your pulse is hitting 140. Your scent is shifting from fear to... something else."

He reached out, his fingers grazing my jawline. I flinched, but I didn't pull away. I couldn't.

"You think you’re a hunter," he whispered, his thumb tracing my lower lip. "But you walked into the lion’s den with a pocket full of stolen silver. Do you have any idea what the Syndicate does to thieves?"

"I don't care," I spat, though my knees were shaking.

"They strip them," he said, his voice dropping to a growl. "They brand them. And then they cast them out into the wastes to be hunted by the Omegas."

He leaned down, his breath hot against my ear. "But you... you’re a special case. You’re the one thing I never thought I’d find. My match. My mate."

He pulled back, his eyes searching mine. For a second, I saw a flash of something human in those dark depths—a loneliness that matched my own. But then the mask of the Alpha returned.

"Give me the ring, Elara. And maybe I’ll let you live long enough to regret meeting me."

"And if I don't?"

Kaelen smiled, and it was the most terrifying thing I’d ever seen. "Then I’ll just have to find other ways to make you talk. And trust me, little wolf, I have all night."