Reincarnated as the Last Silverwolf

The bell above the door jingled, and Mira's hand froze on the stack of paperbacks.

A young couple stepped in out of the rain, laughing, shaking water from their coats. The bond marks on their wrists glowed a soft gold. Mira looked down at the books and kept shelving.

"Do you have anything on coastal hiking?" the girl asked.

"Back wall, second shelf," Mira said.

She didn't look up again. Looking made it worse. The glow, the way the boy's thumb brushed the girl's wrist without him even noticing. Mira had died once without ever having that. She had no plans to try again.

On the small TV behind the counter, a news anchor smiled into the camera. "The Mate-Bond Empire reminds all citizens that unregistered bonds are punishable by law. Bond Enforcers will continue their sweeps in the eastern districts this week."

The couple left with a book and a goodbye. The door clicked shut. Mira exhaled.

Twenty-three years in this body. Twenty-three years of remembering the last one. The cage, the silver chains, the crowd cheering as the blade came down. She had been a Silverwolf then, and she was the last one now. The only blood in the world that could cut a mate bond clean in half.

Every Alpha on the continent would pay everything they owned to drain her.

"Hey, bookstore girl."

A man leaned on the counter, grinning. He'd been in three times this week, and he never bought anything. He smelled like cheap cologne and Beta wolf.

"You ever take a night off?" he asked. "I'll buy you dinner."

"No."

"You didn't even think about it."

"I thought about it for a full second." Mira slid his receipt pad aside. "The answer didn't change."

He laughed. "Come on. What's the worst that could happen?"

She finally looked at him. Just for a moment, she let her eyes hold his, flat and cold. "You'd be surprised. I'm not good for your health."

His smile faded. He took a step back and rubbed his wrist, like it had started to itch. "Right. Weird girl. Okay."

The bell jingled again as he left.

Mira locked the door behind him and flipped the sign to CLOSED. She turned off the front lights one by one and let the dusty shop settle into shadow. Rain tapped on the windows. Somewhere down the street, a siren rose and faded.

She grabbed her coat from the hook. Her hand stopped on the sleeve.

The air had changed.

It wasn't a sound. It was weight, the kind that pressed on her chest like a hand. An Alpha. A strong one. Close.

She hadn't heard the door. She hadn't heard the bell. She turned slowly.

A man stood between the shelves, tall, broad, with silver streaks running through his dark hair. His coat was soaked through. His grey eyes were fixed on her, and they didn't blink.

"The shop is closed," Mira said. Her voice came out steady. Her heart did not.

"I know." His voice was low and rough. "I waited until the customers left."

"Then you know it's closed."

"I'm not here for a book." He took one step forward, and the floorboards creaked under him. Mira's hand slid toward the letter opener on the counter. He noticed. He didn't stop. "I'm looking for something rare."

"Try the antiques store on Fifth."

"I'm looking for a Silverwolf."

The room went silent. The rain, the siren, even her own breathing seemed to stop.

Mira's fingers closed around the letter opener. Eight steps to the back door. Maybe nine. She had counted them a hundred times, every night, for years.

"I don't know what that is," she said.

"You do." He raised both hands, slowly, palms open. "And before you run, look at my wrist."

She didn't want to. She did anyway.

His sleeve had slipped back. There was a bond mark there, but it wasn't glowing gold. It was black, cracked down the middle, like burnt glass.

"Someone forced this on me," he said quietly. "And you are the only person alive who can take it off."

Mira's grip tightened on the letter opener.

Behind him, through the front window, headlights turned onto the street. Black cars. Three of them. Moving slowly.

Bond Enforcers.

The man glanced over his shoulder, then back at her. "They followed me here," he said. "I'm sorry. We have about two minutes."