Times Square pulsed with apocalyptic energy on the last night of 1999. Over a million bodies pressed together beneath the glowing Coca-Cola and Panasonic signs, the massive Jumbotron flickered with advertisements and countdowns to midnight—or catastrophe, depending on who you asked. Neon lights sputtered across Elias' face, but they couldn’t compete with the sheer, triumphant glow of his grin.

The air was thick with smells: diesel exhaust, hot dog carts, hot pretzels, and spilled alcohol. Street performers battled car horns and drunken singing, someone was playing "1999" on a boombox, and everywhere—everywhere—people shouted about Y2K like the world might actually end tonight.

“Look at this, Gabe! We are actually here,” Elias laughed, slapping Gabriel on the shoulder. His eyes danced and his voice vibrated with a boyish excitement that made him look even younger than his thirty year old mask. “Aren’t you glad you agreed to the hunt hiatus?”

No tracking. No chasing. Just freedom. His wolf commented.

“I can’t believe I let you drag me here,” Gabriel mumbled, clearly unimpressed. He crossed his arms, surveying the crowd for threats. “Elias, it’s loud. It’s filthy. It’s crowded and it smells like decay,” he grumbled.

“But the energy,” Elias countered. “It’s like the whole planet is holding its breath,” He turned, spreading his arms as if he wanted to embrace the entire chaotic mess of 1999. “Two centuries of winters and we finally get to see the clock turn over to a bunch of zeros. The millennium. It’s fate.”

“Fate...sure.” Gabriel felt the corners of his mouth turn upward. “But you’re right. If there ever was a night to be awake, it’s this one. The world is not ending.”

“Exactly! So we celebrate with the masses.” Elias laughed, beginning to sway with the crowd.

“You’re ridiculous,” Gabriel said, his voice warm and his posture relaxing.

“And you’re almost fun. See? Progress.” Elias smirked. He tilted his head back and looked up at the crescent moon. “I’m telling you, if you’d just embrace–”

The sentence died in his throat. Elias went bone-still, his playful posture vanished instantly. His pupils dilated and his fingers dug into his palms.

The wind had shifted, swirling down 7th Avenue carrying with it startling clarity. The cacophony of the millennium suddenly went quiet, the neon lights of Times Square blurred into a smear of static as a single scent overwhelmed him.

Beneath his skin his wolf roared. One word that changed everything.

Mine.

Gabriel tensed at Elias’ change in demeanor. “Elias?”

“Gabe,” Elias whispered, his voice dropping an octave, losing all its teasing lightness. He grabbed his brother’s arm as his nails began to elongate. “Do you smell that?”

Gabriel’s senses sharpened as he took a cautious breath. “I smell exhaust and a million unwashed bodies covered in Axe Body spray. What are you–”

“No,” Elias cut him off, his head whipping around, his eyes glowing amber. “It’s her. Gabe. She’s here.”

Elias’s breath hitched, his lungs burning with the need to pull in more of that intoxicating scent. Inside, he felt the familiar heat of the change. His shoulders began to broaden, stretching his denim coat as his wolf pressed against his ribs, snarling to be released.

“Elias, focus!” Gabriel’s hand clamped onto his shoulder like a vice, his voice a low, lethal hiss that cut through the haze. “Your eyes are glowing—your claws! Retract them. Now. You do not shift in the middle of Manhattan. We aren't dying in a hail of police gunfire just because you smelled something you liked.”

“It’s not just something,” Elias ground out through gritted teeth, forcing the wolf back into his marrow until his bones ached.

He looked north, but 7th Avenue was a solid wall of human meat, a gridlocked tide of Y2K madness that no man—human or otherwise—could push through. "She's that way," Elias breathed, his amber eyes locked on a towering hotel in the distance. With predatory speed, he darted west, shoving through the crowd before cutting onto 43rd Street.

He quickly abandoned the sidewalk for the shadows of the alleys, a blur of desperation, vaulting over dumpsters as he cut north through the city’s veins chasing her elusive scent. Gabriel hot on his heels.

The scent flared, dragging him toward the towering hotel. Bursting out onto 46th Street, chest heaving, his wolf surged again.

She’s up. Shift. Climb. Now.

“She’s above me,” Elias growled to Gabriel before throwing his weight against the glass doors of the Marriott Marquis. He didn't wait for an elevator; he hit the service stairs, three at a time, heart hammering a rhythm two centuries in the making. He climbed toward the top floor, boots thudding against the concrete.

“Elias, talk to me,” Gabriel yelled, keeping pace. He had never seen his brother so intense, so driven.

He didn’t look at the floor numbers; he didn't have to. On the forty-eighth floor, the air was suddenly so thick with her scent it felt like a physical weight against his chest.

Through here. His wolf knew the way.

Elias threw his weight against the heavy steel service door, bursting through it into the humid, frantic chaos of the prep kitchen. “Grab those,” he hissed, gesturing to a pair of white aprons draped over a linen cart. “We’re going in as staff.”

Aprons donned, they moved through the kitchen. White aprons moved everywhere. No one looked twice. Gabriel grabbed a tray of champagne flutes, pushing through the swinging doors into the ballroom of the masquerade party. The sound of string instruments swelled, elegant and haunting. Elias heard none of it. Only his heartbeat.

“Mask,” Gabriel said. “You need a mask.”

A side alcove caught Elias’ eye: a small coat check area, unmanned. Scattered across the counter were forgotten items probably lost by drunken revelers. Among them was a black and gold masquerade mask, abandoned.

Grab it. Find her.

Elias snatched it, tying it on quickly as Gabriel shot him a warning look. "Steady," his brother murmured. “Don’t scare her.”

"I'm steady," Elias lied, his hands trembling as he pulled off his apron and denim jacket. Tossing them to Gabriel, who caught them with a silent, sharp nod of understanding, he moved forward into the room, turning his head toward where her scent pooled most.

Across the marble floor silhouetted by moonlight near the windows, she stood. Elias’ world collapsed into silence. He didn’t breathe.

Mate. Finally. His wolf went utterly still—no longer frantic, but certain.

She was partially turned away, her mask catching the light. Elias didn't need to see her face. He knew her the way his lungs knew air. The way winter knew snow.

He moved through the crowd like gravity itself pulled him forward. Two hundred years, and every single winter had led to this moment.

She turned. Their eyes met. The world froze.

Elias stopped three feet from her. When he spoke, his voice was warm, playful, inevitable. "I just ran through half of Manhattan to get here, so forgive me if I skip the small talk: I'm Elias.” He bowed, old-fashioned and unhurried, one hand extended. “Care to dance me out of this millennium?”

The universe had kept its promise.

Fate had delivered.

My moon found.