Darius's POV: Lorcan's excited roar made me freeze mid-step. When I realized what he'd said, the anger boiling in my chest turned into pure shock. Did I hear him right? Fated mate? But the grand priest said my fated mate wouldn't appear until a thousand years from now. Could the prophecy be wrong? My chest tightened as I turned quickly toward the figure standing in the road. Under the glare of my headlights, I saw her clearly. A teenage girl wearing a torn school uniform. Her lower leg was braced with a stick, clearly broken. Mud and blood covered her face, but her eyes were so clear and bright they seemed to reflect the light back at me. I narrowed my eyes and swept her with my Alpha senses. My brows pulled together.There wasn't a trace of wolf spirit inside her. She hadn't even awakened one. Beneath the scent of blood, I could even smell a trace of human blood in her veins. The hope that had just flared inside me went cold. Through the mind-link, I snapped at Lorcan. "She doesn't even have a wolf spirit. She's part human. You're sure she's our fated mate?!" In my mind, Lorcan's molten-gold wolf eyes stayed fixed on her. "Her scent disappeared, but I swear I felt it. Let her in the car. She can calm me down." Maybe it was Lorcan's mistake, but the moment I stood in front of the girl, his wild restlessness from the mating heat suddenly calmed down. My own nerves began to settle as well. "W-why are you standing here?" I almost blurted out, "Are you trying to get yourself killed?" but I stopped myself. Didn't want to sound harsh. The girl thought for a moment, then answered flatly, "Pulling a scam." "What?"My lips twitched. That was the first time I'd ever heard anyone say something like that so boldly. "Hahaha! She's funny! I like her!" Lorcan's laugh shook my mind. He actually rolled around in delight. It was the first time since his awakening that Lorcan had shown interest in a she-wolf. The elders had introduced me to countless powerful, well-bred she-wolves. Both of us had only ever felt disgust. But now, looking at this girl—dirty, hurt, and fragile—I felt none of those. Instead, I wanted to know more about her. What made her so special? As I studied her curiously, she spoke again. "You're racing? I can help you win." I almost laughed. "You?" I wasn't belittling her, but come on, it just didn't make sense. She hadn't even awakened her wolf spirit and couldn't heal herself. This girl was badly injured, but she had the nerve to suggest that? Where did that confidence come from? But instead of blushing from embarrassment at being called out, she stayed calm. Her eyes focused on the road ahead. "The leading car just finished the first lap. Average speed around 174 miles per hour. Top speed about 190. The mountain road is full of turns. One lap takes roughly 10 minutes. You've already lost five here. I can help you catch up by the third lap." That caught my attention. Her judgment was so precise it put even the best professional werewolf racers to shame. I asked, "What's the deal?" "Take me down the mountain to a hospital. Pay my bill." "Deal." I walked toward the passenger side. I wanted to see for myself how this half-blood girl—who hadn't even awakened her wolf spirit—planned to beat those noble racers with high-ranking wolf spirits, even after I'd fallen so far behind. More importantly, I wanted a little more time alone with her. I want to figure out how she had managed to calm both me and Lorcan with just her presence. But when I slid into the seat, she was still standing there, unmoving. "If you're having second thoughts, it's not too late to walk away now." Thora's POV: The moment that speeding car almost hit me, I felt something—faint but familiar. Amie's power. After making the deal with the man, I focused inward, trying to look at my soulstone. But it was still dim and lifeless. And the trace of Amie's energy had vanished. So that brief flicker I felt—was it just my imagination under pressure? "If you're having second thoughts, it's not too late to walk away now." The man's lazy voice pulled me back. I met his mocking, dark eyes. He clearly thought I was scared.Too bad "fear" and "regret" aren't in my dictionary. I slid into the driver's seat, snapped the stick I'd been using as a crutch in half, and used the thicker part to brace my broken leg against the brake pedal, steering the wheel with one hand. With one leg down and my body covered in bruises, at least my arms still worked. One good leg was enough for what I was about to do.