ZEV'S POV
The window exploded inward before I could process the sound of breaking glass.
I'd been sitting at my desk reviewing territorial contracts, the ones that bored me to death but kept the pack's income flowing. The dinner with Rebecca had been scheduled for 7 PM and I'd skipped it. Some part of me couldn't stomach the pretense tonight. So instead I was here, alone in my bedroom, doing work that would never be finished because being Alpha meant the work never stopped.
The figure came through the window like smoke. Fast. Trained. Deadly.
I didn't have time to shift before he was on me.
His weight slammed into my chest and we went down hard, the desk shattering beneath us. My head cracked against the floor and for a moment everything went white. When my vision cleared, I was staring into the eyes of a man I'd never seen before.
He was large. Military build. A scar ran down the left side of his face. His eyes were cold and empty and professional, the eyes of someone who'd killed before and would kill again without feeling a single thing about it.
My wolf surged forward immediately.
I let the shift happen, feeling my bones crack and reform, my skin burning as fur erupted across my body. The pain of shifting was nothing compared to the clarity it brought. In wolf form, I was stronger. Faster. More lethal.
The assassin didn't hesitate. He shifted too.
His wolf was massive. Darker than mine. Scarred from old battles. This wasn't some pack wolf with basic training. This was a killer. Someone who'd been bred for violence or trained into it or simply lived long enough to learn how to survive by any means necessary.
We collided in the center of my bedroom.
The fight was brutal and quick. My bedroom furniture exploded around us. The bed frame snapped. The walls cracked from the force of our bodies slamming against them. I was strong. I was Alpha. I'd won every single fight in my entire life without exception.
But something was wrong.
His claws burned when they cut me. Burned in a way that wasn't normal. I realized immediately what he'd done. Silver. The bastard had coated his claws in silver. It was an old trick, something you only heard about in stories. Silver burned shifters from the inside out. Silver prevented healing. Silver was designed specifically to kill creatures like us.
The first wound was across my shoulder. The pain was immediate and intense, a burning sensation that made me howl. The second wound was on my side. The third was worse.
Every cut burned. Every wound weakened me.
My wolf was strong but she was also smart. She felt the silver coursing through our veins like poison. She felt the way it was preventing her healing powers from working properly. She felt the way our strength was draining away with every passing second.
For the first time in fourteen years as Alpha, I was losing.
I tried to adjust my strategy. Instead of fighting head on, I tried to circle, to use my speed instead of my strength. But the assassin was patient. He moved with the kind of efficiency that came from repetition. This wasn't his first kill. This was just another job.
And I was the job.
Blood pooled on my bedroom floor. Mine. So much of it. My vision was starting to blur at the edges. The silver was doing its work. It was burning through my system, slowing my healing, weakening my ability to fight back.
The assassin pressed his advantage.
He drove me backward toward the wall. I tried to dodge but my body wasn't responding the way it should. The silver had done more damage than I'd realized. He came at my throat and I shifted back to human form, hoping the sudden change would confuse him.
It didn't work.
His claws closed around my human throat before I could move away. His grip was strong enough to crush bone. His eyes were still empty. Still professional. Still absolutely certain that I was about to die.
I couldn't breathe.
My hands clawed at his arm, trying to get him to loosen his grip, but I had no leverage. No strength. No way out of this. The silver had burned through my system and weakened me to the point where I couldn't fight anymore.
This was it.
This was how the Alpha of Silverwood Pack was going to die. Not in battle. Not with honor. But alone in his bedroom, bleeding out on the floor, gasping for breath while an assassin watched him with empty eyes.
I thought about Marcus. About the pack warriors who depended on my leadership. About the territory I'd spent fourteen years building. About the decisions I'd made that kept everyone safe. All of that was about to end because I'd been stupid enough to think I was untouchable.
My vision was going dark around the edges.
My wolf was fading. I could feel her slipping away, consciousness dimming, the instinct to fight finally giving up because there was nothing left to fight with.
This was the end.
I waited for death to come.
Then the bedroom door exploded.
Not opened. Exploded. The wood splintered inward like something had hit it with tremendous force. For a moment, there was confusion. The assassin's grip loosened slightly as he turned to see what was happening.
A figure stood in the doorway silhouetted against the hallway light.
Small. Female. Human-shaped.
For just a moment, I couldn't process what I was seeing. This didn't make sense. Nobody had the security codes to my residence. Nobody would dare enter without permission. Nobody was supposed to be here.
But someone was.
The assassin hissed and turned his full attention to the figure, which meant for just a second, his claws loosened around my throat. It was barely anything. Barely enough to breathe. But it was enough.
My wolf was still in there somewhere, deep in the darkness of my fading consciousness. And she recognized that moment for what it was.
A chance.