“What’s coming, waan jai?” Kamon Taniyapon’s voice was low, threaded with an unease his brother Rune had only heard a handful of times in their lives.

“Death,” Klarissa whispered, her voice so faint Rune’s tiger surged to the surface in instant protest. “Death is coming, and I am its creator.”

Her knees buckled, and the world seemed to slow. Rune lunged at the same time as his brother, both of them fighting to catch the fragile, battered woman as she collapsed. Kamon’s arms closed around her first, his guttural growl one of possession and pain, but Rune had a hand pressed to her back, anchoring her even as his brother cradled her to his chest.

The scent hit them both again in the same moment—sweet and devastating, cinnamon cut with wild honey. The mating bond. Fated. Irrefutable. Rune’s lungs burned with it, his entire body trembling as every instinct screamed—mine, ours. It had first hit them when she stepped out of the car, and they caught her scent, tinged with blood and pain, as they stepped toward her vehicle. It had been so strong it had almost dropped them both to their knees.

Their mate was stunning, curves in all the right places, dark red hair that fell in soft waves to below her shoulders, brown eyes, and full red lips.

“Easy, suuway,” Rune murmured against her hair, the endearment—beautiful—falling from his lips like a vow. “We’ve got you now.”

Kamon’s jaw was tight, his dark eyes blazing. “Whoever touched her … whoever made her bleed and feel pain…” His voice became garbled as his tiger rose within him, so Rune had to lay a steadying hand on his brother’s arm.

“We’ll carve them open,” Rune promised, his voice a lethal rasp. “Piece by fucking piece.”

They moved together, instinct and bond already weaving them into a shield around the trembling female fate had delivered to their doorstep. Kamon shifted Klarissa more firmly against his chest, victorious in that silent battle of who would carry her inside. Rune let him win it, barely, but stayed close, brushing a strand of hair from her face, his chest a raw knot of fear and fury.

The Pride house was quiet as they crossed the threshold, though Rune knew that wouldn’t last. The others had already scented the change in the air. The Alpha would know, and he would require an explanation. That was what the Pride did—circle tight when danger whispered at their door.

Rune held the door open with one hand, the other never straying far from Klarissa’s fragile form in his brother’s arms. Her skin was cold, her breathing shallow, but there was strength there too, buried beneath exhaustion and whatever hell she’d clawed her way out of. He could feel it. The same way his tiger recognized her as their mate.

“Let’s take her straight up to the infirmary,” Rune said roughly, though his voice caught at the edges. “She needs medical attention and rest, not an interrogation.”

Kamon shot him a look, sharp with pride and protectiveness, but nodded. “We’ll take care of her.”

Rune inclined his head in agreement. Kamon wasn’t wrong—he would take care of her. They both would. Fate had always been clear that their path led to a shared mate, and they had never questioned it. There was no rivalry, only certainty. Rune stayed close, his chest a raw knot of fear and fury that matched his twin’s.

As Kamon eased Klarissa down, she stirred, whispering something too faint to make out. Rune leaned closer, brushing the back of his knuckles along her temple. “Rest, suuway. You’re safe here.”

Her lips parted, and for the briefest moment Rune thought she might argue. The fire in her was banked, not gone, and he respected the hell out of that. But then her lashes fluttered shut, and she slipped deeper into unconsciousness.

Rune pulled his phone from his pocket and thumbed Keiran’s number. Keiran answered on the first ring.

“Took you fucking long enough to call me,” Keiran practically growled down the phone, his tone sharp as claws. “I have had no less than 8 members of the pride call and tell me that a mysterious woman has arrived at the house. Badly beaten, asking for me, and that she is someone that has taken your eye.”

Rune huffed, though his voice stayed grim. “She’s here.”

Silence. Then, “Who?”

“Our mate, the mysterious woman.” Rune glanced at her on the couch, pale, lips parted in exhaustion. His tiger paced savagely beneath his skin. “She made it as far as the driveway before she collapsed. Told us she needed to get a message to you, that death was coming and she was its creator then she went down. Kamon and I are watching her now, waiting on the healer.”

“Well, fuck,” Keiran muttered. “And here I thought tonight might be quiet.”

Rune’s mouth twisted despite the churn of fear in his gut. “This place? Quiet? Don’t make me laugh, Alpha Kitty. The day you’re quiet is the day Mason willingly lets Jacob win a fight.”

Keiran’s growl rolled down the line, half threat, half reluctant amusement. “Keep her safe, Rune. Both of you. Whatever’s coming, it just landed on our doorstep.”

Rune’s gaze dropped back to the fragile woman nestled against the cushions, her presence already etched into his soul. Death may be coming, he thought, but we’ll meet it claw for claw before we ever let it touch her.

Rune ended the call and stood in the center of the infirmary, his body taut, his tiger prowling beneath his skin. He and Kamon stood over Klarissa while the healer examined her. Every time she whimpered at his touch, both brothers growled low and lethal, their need to inflict bodily harm on whoever had done this to her nearly overwhelming.

The healer methodically revealed each bruise and laceration, and Rune’s fury built until it burned in his veins. When the man finally looked up, his expression grim, he spelled out his findings—three cracked ribs, extensive bruising across her back and hips, a battered right leg that had clearly taken repeated blows, a split lip, and a deep laceration along her thigh that had been poorly stitched, likely by her own hand. There was also a knife wound to her back, hastily patched with a pressure bandage but still bleeding and in need of proper stitches. He listed the older scars too, marks of repeated violence that had Rune’s tiger pacing savagely within. Each word tightened Rune’s fists until his claws threatened to burst free. Rune wanted to kill.

“I’ll end the bastard who hurt her,” he snarled.

“Get in line,” Kamon said darkly, his gaze locked on their mate.

Then Kamon sat at her side, one of her small hands engulfed in his much larger one. His brother’s expression was a mirror of Rune’s own—fury, fear, determination.

They’d both felt it, that instant recognition. Klarissa wasn’t just a woman who had staggered to their door with death on her lips. She was theirs. Theirs to protect, to fight for, to love. And God help anyone who thought to take her from them.

Rune crouched on the other side of her, brushing his thumb across the back of her other hand. “Rest, suuway,” he whispered again, the vow steadying something wild inside him. “We’ll keep you safe. Always.”

The Pride was gathering. Rune could hear footsteps in the hall, low murmurs as news spread. But in this moment, nothing mattered except the fragile heartbeat beneath his fingertips and the fire of the bond anchoring him to her.

They had found her.

Or maybe, Rune thought grimly, death had brought her to them.

Either way, fate had just changed everything.