The kitchen reeked of burnt oil and regret, a smell that clung to Seraphine Theron like the heavy silence in the house. The clatter of dishes echoed as she scrubbed the last stubborn stain off a plate, her fingers red and raw from the cold water. It was nearly midnight, and her stepfather, Sebastian, had already downed half a crate of whiskey, his growling voice slurring commands from the living room.

"Seraphine!" His voice boomed, sharp and angry. "Get me my cigarettes and a lighter. Now!"

She froze, glancing toward the living room where her stepsister, Solene, sat cross-legged on the couch, giggling into her phone. The stark contrast between them was always glaring-Solene, with her perfectly manicured nails and carefree demeanor, was the golden geese of the house. Seraphine, on the other hand, was the black sheep.

"But I'm not done with the dishes," Seraphine mumbled, though she knew it was pointless to argue.

"I don't care," Sebastian snapped, his words slurred but biting. "Go now, or I'll have a reason to really get mad."

Solene didn't even glance up from her phone, too engrossed in her whispered conversation with her new high school boyfriend. "Hurry up, Sera," she said dismissively. "Don't keep Daddy waiting."

Seraphine swallowed the retort rising in her throat, grabbed a jacket that was too thin for the frosty night, and slipped out the door. The chilly air bit at her exposed skin as she walked to the corner store. The streets were eerily quiet, the glow of streetlights casting long, sinister shadows.

The store was quiet when she entered, save for the hum of a refrigerator in the back. A couple argued near the snacks aisle. Seraphine's glance shifted to the shopkeeper, Dorian. An older man with tired eyes behind the counter. He barely glanced up from his newspaper as she approached the counter.

"I need a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, please," she whispered, placing the few coins Sebastian had thrown at her on the counter.

The shopkeeper nodded, moving slowly to retrieve the items.

The bell above the door jingled, and Seraphine turned her head instinctively. Seven men entered, their presence immediately filling the small store with tension. They were all wearing dark clothing and wolf masks that obscured their faces, the grotesque snarls on the masks making her stomach churn.

"Everyone on the floor!" one of them barked, his voice harsh and commanding.

The shopkeeper froze, his hands trembling as he raised them in surrender. The arguing couple near the snacks aisle dropped to their knees, their eyes wide with fear.

Seraphine stood frozen, clutching the pack of cigarettes. Her heart pounded in her chest, her body refusing to move.

"Hey, you!" one of the masked men growled, his voice sharp. "Didn't you hear me? Get on the floor!"

Her legs wouldn't respond, her mind racing with a thousand thoughts.

"El," another man said, stepping forward. His mask was darker, the golden eyes behind it gleaming with an unnatural light. "Focus on the job."

Lucca turned toward her, his movements sharp and deliberate. He snatched the cigarettes from her hand, lighting one with a smirk.

"This one's got some fight in her," he said, exhaling a cloud of smoke.

"Give them back," Seraphine said, her voice barely above a whisper but firm. She immediately regretted her reaction but couldn't stop glaring at him.

Lucca chuckled, stepping closer. "Or what? You'll fight me for them, crazy bitch!"

His hand reached out, brushing against her cheek in a way that made her skin crawl. "Or would you prefer we go to the other room?" his slip lips rose with a mysterious smirk. Seraphine glared at him in disgust.
Before she could react, Lucca grabbed her arm, his grip bruising.

"I need those," she begged, her voice trembling but defiant. "I'll be in trouble if I go back without them."

Lucca's laugh was bitter. "Maybe your trouble starts now."

As he leaned closer, something shifted in the air-a presence, commanding and undeniable.

"Enough."

Although calm, the voice held a gravity that hushed the entire store. The customers on the floor placed their shivering hands over their head. The dark-masked man-Draven-stepped forward, placing a firm hand on Lucca's shoulder.

"That's not why we're here, El. Don't lose focus." Draven said, his tone low but unyielding. "Let her go."

Lucca hesitated, his grip loosening slightly. Draven's golden eyes through the mask locked onto Seraphine's, and the world seemed to slow. For a moment, nothing else existed-just her wide, frightened eyes staring back at him. His eyes startled her as if it glowed, but she wasn't sure.

Draven's chest tightened, an unfamiliar sensation washed over him. He couldn't look away, couldn't ignore the pull he felt toward her. She was different.

"Lay on the floor," he said, his voice softer now.

Seraphine hesitated, her gaze lingering on him. Despite the mask, she felt something in his voice-a strange gentleness amidst the chaos. Slowly, she sank to her knees, pressing her forehead to the cold tiles.

Draven tore his gaze away, his heart pounding in a way that unsettled him.

From her spot on the floor, Seraphine risked a glance upward. Draven was moving with precision, directing the others with subtle gestures. There was something about him-something that felt out of place in this chaos, and she couldn't control herself. Her heart yearned for a glance of him. It took a lot to shut her eyes and look away. His movements were too calculated, too restrained, like he didn't belong in a group of violent criminals.

"Move!" he ordered the others, his tone sharp once more. "We're done here."

Swiftly, the gang carried the baggage and threw them at the booth of the SUV. On the Road, the vehicle sped through the dark streets, the city lights flickering past. Lucca sat beside Draven, his foot tapping against the floor as he fidgeted restlessly.

"What's your problem?" Draven asked, his voice sharp.

Lucca groaned, running a hand through his hair. "What's your problem? Back there, you ruined everything!"

Draven raised an eyebrow. "I stopped you from being an idiot."

Lucca's frustration boiled over. "You stopped me from having fun! Don't act like you're in charge of me, Draven."

Draven leaned back, a rare smile tugging at his lips. "You were being unfocused. And... I was a bit distracted."

Lucca's eyes narrowed. "By what?"

Draven hesitated, his gaze distant. "By her. That girl. She's... different."

Lucca stared at him, his disbelief evident. "You're insane. If you unmask yourself, we're all dead. You know that, right?"

Draven nodded slowly. "I know. But she felt... impossible to ignore."

Lucca groaned and signaled the driver to stop. "I'm done with this conversation," he muttered.

When they arrived at the safe house, a hulking man with a scar across his face unloaded the stolen goods. The man nodded in approval, his cigarette dangling from his lips.

Draven barely noticed. The girl, her defiance, and the way she had stared at him ignited something in him consumed his thoughts.

Standing by the window in his room, Draven stared at the moon. The pull he had felt toward her was unlike anything he'd ever known.

"Is she my mate?" he whispered, the words, foreign and terrifying.

When the gang finally left, the store was in shambles. The older man behind the counter was trembling with a rosery, muttering prayers under his breath. Seraphine pushed herself to her feet, her body aching from tension. Without looking properly, she grabbed the pack of cigarettes from the floor, before stumbling out into the night.

The walk home felt longer than usual, the weight of the encounter pressing heavily on her chest. She replayed the events in her mind, unable to shake the image of Draven. He had saved her-protected her from Lucca. But why?

When she reached the house, the lights were still on. On the couch, Solene scrolled through her phone while Sebastian sat in his recliner, holding a beer bottle.

"You're late," Sebastian growled, his bloodshot eyes narrowing. "And where are my cigarettes?"

Seraphine handed him the pack without a word, her hands trembling slightly.

Sebastian snatched the pack, inspecting it. "You smoked one, didn't you?" he accused, his voice rising.

"What? No, I-"

Before she could finish, his hand shot out, striking her cheek. The force sent her stumbling backward, but she caught herself on the edge of the table.

"Don't lie to me, girl," Sebastian spat. "You reek of smoke."

"It wasn't me," she pleaded, tears welling in her eyes. "I didn't-Some thieves robbed the-"

Solene giggled at her phone messages while Seraphine shifted, her hand falling from her aching face.

"Dad, I'm not lying, I swear!"

"Get to your room before I lay my hands on you, you terrible liar!" he barked, cutting her off. "And stay there until I say otherwise."

Seraphine sniffed as tears threatened to pour out of her eyes, but she fought back.

Locked in her tiny room, Seraphine pressed a hand to her stinging cheek, the tears finally spilling over. She broke down in disappointed. Her mind was a whirlwind of fear and anger, but beneath it all was something unexpected-gratitude. Seraphine was already used to being abused by her family. All she hoped for was a breakout, she knew would come eventually.

Seraphine couldn't stop thinking about the dark-masked man. His voice, his eyes, the way he had intervened. Everything happened swiftly, and the stranger was her saviour. He was dangerous, of that she was certain, but he had also saved her.

Lying on her bed, staring at the cracked ceiling, she allowed herself one foolish, fleeting thought.

I hope I see him again.