The elevator doors slid shut, hiding Isabella’s jealousy-twisted face from view.

The living room fell into a dead silence.

My taut nerves finally unwound. I turned to look at the figure on the balcony.

“Thank you,” I said. “For before.”

Damien didn’t turn around. His voice was flat. “Thank me? For taking out your trash?”

“And for… not letting them touch anything in here,” I said softly.

He finally turned and walked toward me, each step carrying an invisible weight that pressed down on me.

As he cast his shadow over me, I could barely breathe.

He stopped right in front of me, so close I could smell the unique scent on his skin.

“Clara,” he began, his golden, slitted pupils like two embers in the dim light. “I know what you’re doing.”

My heart leaped into my throat.

He reached out and expertly tilted my chin up, forcing me to meet those all-seeing eyes.

“You weren’t choosing a husband,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “You were choosing a knife. A blade to cut down all your enemies. Am I wrong?”

He saw right through me.

He was right. All my calm was a façade. I needed him, the sharpest blade of all.

I didn’t deny it.

Suddenly, he smiled, a low, pleased sound.

“Good. I like your honesty.”

His thumb brushed lightly across my lips, the rough pad of his thumb sending a jolt of heat through me.

“But have you considered,” he whispered, “that a blade can cut the one who wields it?”

The air was stolen from my lungs.

He released my chin, but his hand slid down my neck, settling on the small of my back before yanking me hard against him.

I slammed into his scorching, solid chest, my senses filled with his overpowering, dominant scent.

“Want to see how sharp your ‘weapon’ is?”

He turned and walked to the smooth black wall in the center of the living room. With a light touch of his palm, the wall silently lit up, transforming into a massive touchscreen.

On the screen, the stock chart for Jacob’s “Silver Moon Clan” was displayed in stark detail.

Damien’s fingers danced across it, and a few red analysis lines appeared, precisely targeting the conglomerate’s most vulnerable assets.

“With a single command, by morning, Jacob would be destitute.”

I stared at the screen, at the power capable of toppling a top-tier dynasty, and finally understood the weight of the title “Doomsday Tyrant.”

He switched off the screen and walked back toward me, backing me up against the floor-to-ceiling glass of the balcony. My back was pressed against the cold pane, the city skyline plunging thousands of feet below me, his scorching body pinning me from the front.

Nowhere to run.

“Now, I’ll ask you one last time.”

He leaned in, his hot breath fanning across my neck, sending a shiver down my spine. “Choose me, and there’s no turning back. Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” I said, my voice trembling with a thrill I couldn’t explain.

“Then see clearly what it is you’ve chosen.”

The moment the words left his lips, a brilliant gold light exploded from his eyes.

I heard the terrifying sound of bones cracking and rearranging.

His suit disintegrated into dust amidst a black glow. Obsidian scales pierced his skin, rapidly covering his entire body. A pair of enormous dragon wings unfurled with a force that pinned me against the glass.

Seconds later, the handsome man was gone.

In his place, coiled on the balcony, was a true, mythical black dragon.

I should have screamed. I should have been terrified. I should have run.

But I didn’t.

I stared at those massive wings. The very ones that had tried to shield me from the fiery explosion in my past life.

He was showing me his most primal, most dangerous form.

Trembling, I slowly reached out and touched a cold, hard scale on his cheek. It felt smooth, yet held the power to destroy everything.

“…Beautiful,” I whispered, surprised by the reverence in my own voice.

The dragon’s massive form went still.

He shifted back into a man and cradled my face between his palms.

“If you want to wield this blade,” he growled, his hot breath a caress against my ear, his voice a guttural rasp, “you’d better be prepared to be cut by it. Or perhaps, to be completely and utterly impaled by it.”

His words were a spell, igniting the madness I had suppressed for two lifetimes.

I didn’t push him away. Instead, my trembling hands fisted in the front of his shirt.

“Then show me,” I challenged, tilting my head back to meet his burning gaze, my voice filled with a defiance I didn't know I possessed. “Show me just how sharp your blade is.”

A dangerous, predatory grin spread across his face. The look of an apex hunter who was done playing with his food.

“As you wish.”

In one swift motion, he swept me into his arms and strode into the bedroom. He tossed me onto the massive bed.

The cool silk sheets were a stark contrast to the searing heat rolling off his body.

He gave me no time to breathe, his large frame covering mine, trapping me in his shadow.

His hands were merciless, tearing my dress from my body. The sound of ripping fabric echoed in the silent room.

“Clara…” he snarled against my lips, his golden eyes swirling with molten lust. “You chose the darkness. Now, be consumed by it.”

“I’m ready,” I gasped, my legs wrapping around his lean waist of their own accord.

When it was over, I lay limp in his arms, feeling boneless and thoroughly claimed.

He held me close, his fingers tracing a new, intricate golden sigil that now shimmered on the side of my neck.

“Now,” he murmured, his voice hoarse with satisfaction, “this mark binds you to me. Your body, your soul… they belong to me.”

An eternal pact was forged between us, one far deeper than the simple mate bond of my past life.

As the mate of the Dragon Lord, I didn't have to socialize with the other clans like I did in my past life.

It wasn't until three months later, at a family gathering, that I first stepped out of Damien's penthouse.

“Everyone, I have a wonderful announcement to make!”

Isabella stood in the center of the room, her face beaming with triumph. Her stomach showed a distinct, rounded curve.

“I’m pregnant! I will give birth to the true future ruler, while some people are only fit to be trampled under my feet!”

Thunderous applause erupted.

My father’s eyes reddened with emotion. “My good girl!”

Jacob looked thrilled, wrapping an arm around Isabella’s waist and planting a kiss on her forehead. The Silver Moon Clan’s stock had been soaring for three days straight.

Everyone was celebrating the coming of the new wolf heir.

“Clara, when are you going to give us a surprise?” one of the family members asked with a smile.

I smiled back but didn’t answer. My eyes were fixed on Isabella’s stomach, a deep sense of confusion growing inside me.

Three months along, but she was growing too fast. Hybrid pregnancies usually took longer, with slower fetal development.

Something was wrong.

A month later, the news came.

Isabella had gone into labor prematurely.

But strangely, the Wolf Clan put the hospital on lockdown. No celebration, no announcement. Jacob didn’t even post a picture of the baby on social media.

I decided to see for myself.

When I pushed open the door to my family’s living room, I saw a shocking scene.

Isabella was crumpled on the floor, holding a baby with bizarrely colored fur and sobbing uncontrollably.

“You whore! You betrayed me!”

Jacob’s roar shook the entire living room.

He stood over Isabella, his silver eyes burning with rage. The wine glass in his hand shattered, and blood dripped from his fingers, but he didn't seem to feel the pain.

Isabella cowered in the corner of the sofa, the infant in her arms letting out a weak cry.

The baby’s fur was indeed strange. Not the pure, silver-white of Jacob’s clan, but a mottled gray-brown, with streaks of black.

“Jacob, I swear I didn’t—”

“Shut up!” Jacob slapped her across the face. “The pure Silver Wolf bloodline has endured for a thousand years! We have never produced a mutt like this!”

He reached for the baby. “I’ll deal with this disgrace myself!”

“Stop.”

Damien’s voice cut through the air like a blade of ice.

He emerged from the shadows, his golden, slitted eyes locking onto Jacob. The pressure from a true apex predator froze Jacob in place.

“The child is innocent,” Damien said calmly.

“Innocent?” Jacob laughed, a crazed sound. “The existence of this mutt is an insult to my bloodline!”

“Then prove he’s a mutt,” Damien said, walking to the center of the room. “The Lunar Council has a bloodline tracing ritual. If you’re so sure your wife was unfaithful, prove it with magic.”

Jacob froze.

The bloodline tracing was the most ancient and accurate test. The power of the magic would reveal every source of the child’s bloodline. No one could cheat it.

“I—”

“What, are you scared?” I stepped forward, my voice dripping with scorn. “Or do you already know the truth?”

Jacob’s face changed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” I said, looking at Isabella’s pale face, “perhaps the problem isn’t her infidelity, but what you two did to have a child in the first place.”

Isabella flinched, almost dropping the baby.

“Clara, what nonsense are you talking about!” my father demanded, frowning.

“Then do the ritual,” I said with a shrug. “The truth will speak for itself.”

An hour later, the elders of the Lunar Council arrived.

Five figures in white robes formed a circle around an ancient silver mirror. Moonlight streamed through a skylight, converging into a brilliant beam on the mirror’s surface.

“Place the child before the mirror,” the lead elder commanded.

Isabella hesitated, but with everyone watching, she had no choice but to obey.

The elders began to chant in an ancient tongue, and the surface of the mirror rippled.

Suddenly, a thick beam of silver light shot from the mirror and connected to Jacob.

“Paternal bloodline confirmed,” the elder announced.

Isabella let out a breath of relief, shooting me a triumphant, 'I told you so' glare.

But her expression quickly froze.

Four more rays of light shot from the mirror, connecting to four other male werewolves in the crowd!

The room fell silent.

The four men were all low-ranking, common members of the clan. They were now trembling on their knees on the floor.

“This—this is impossible!” Isabella shrieked.

Jacob stood there, dumbfounded, before erupting in a new, more furious rage.

“You slut! You were with four low-ranking wolves—”