Seth's POV

The night bled silver through the curtains, a soft shimmer against the whiskey glass in my hand. I swirled the liquid absently, watching it catch the moonlight. The taste had long gone dull to me, but the ritual remained. It calmed the itch beneath my skin-that endless hum of wanting, waiting, scheming.

Fate had always favored those who dared to cheat her.

And I was nothing if not daring.

Across the dim room, the phone buzzed once. I didn't move. The vibration was subtle, deliberate. My signal. The old woman had taken the bait.

A smile curved my lips as I rose, setting the glass aside. I had spent weeks whispering through channels that only the desperate and the faithful still used, the kind of people who believed in signs, in divine nudges, in the Moon's will.

All it took was a single word, a single nudge in the right ear, and Alexander's grandmother, the pack's most revered elder had become my mouthpiece without ever realizing it.

"She's perfect," I had told her softly that night, my voice hidden beneath static. "The girl is kind, good with children, steady. Just what the young Alpha's household needs."

The old woman had heard the lie she wanted to believe. She had taken it as divine guidance. She had called the agency herself.

And now, Stella Bellingham was under the same roof as Alexander Calum.

The irony was exquisite.

I walked toward the window, watching the faint light spilling over the vast estate below. I could almost see her there-the girl with the trembling hands and lost eyes, the one who didn't even realize the kind of power sleeping in her veins. The power that could make me what I was born to be.

She was meant for him, yes. But what did fate matter when I could bend it?

The sound of heels echoed behind me, sharp and quick. The door opened, and she slipped in. Hazel.

Her perfume filled the room before her voice did. Sweet, cloying, and a little desperate. She was beautiful in that shallow way that made men stupid. That was why I had chosen her.

"You called," she said, shutting the door with her hip. Her red lips curved into something that wanted to be a smile. "You don't usually call twice."

I turned to face her, taking my time. "You were useful once. I need you to be again."

Her brows lifted slightly. "Still about Alexander?"

"Always about Alexander," I said, stepping closer until she could feel the weight of my presence. Hazel tried not to flinch, but I saw the tension in her throat. "You remember the plan."

She tilted her head, feigning innocence. "You want me to make him fall for me again?"

"No," I said, voice dropping to a whisper. "I want you to keep him distracted. You'll remind him what it's like to be wanted without pain. You'll make him forget the human girl, long enough for me to make her mine."

Her smile faltered. "You mean Stella."

"Yes."

Hazel hesitated, searching my face for a trace of softness. "You really think she'll ever look at you the way she looks at him?"

For a heartbeat, the room went still. Then I smiled, the kind that made people uneasy.

"She will," I said simply. "They all do. In the end, they always do."

Hazel laughed once, hollow and brittle. "You sound like a man possessed."

"Maybe I am." I turned away again, watching the night through the window. "But not by love, Hazel. By purpose."

She took a step closer. "And what happens when he finds out you were the one who sent her there? That you're behind all this?"

I glanced at her reflection in the glass, my smile widening. "He won't. He's too blinded by his pride. Alexander sees only what he wants to see. That's his weakness."

Hazel's expression softened for a moment, a flicker of doubt crossing her face. "And what about Stella's weakness?"

That question earned her a long, thoughtful silence. I imagined Stella again, her wide, uncertain eyes, the gentle tremor in her voice.

Her weakness wasn't naivety. It was compassion. That endless need to fix, to care, to believe in goodness even when surrounded by wolves.

It made her irresistible.

"She wants to heal people," I murmured. "Even those who hurt her. That's what will ruin her. And what will make her mine."

Hazel crossed her arms, uneasy now. "You talk about her like she's some kind of prize."

"She is." I faced her fully this time, eyes dark. "Through her, I'll have what I was denied. The pack. The power. The name."

"You mean the title," Hazel said softly. "Alpha."

The word hummed in the air like a promise.

I stepped close enough for her perfume to turn suffocating. "Do what I told you. Keep Alexander occupied. Stay close. If he pulls away, pull harder. Make him believe you're the only one who sees him."

Hazel nodded slowly, her throat tightening. "And what do I get?"

My hand brushed her jaw, a touch that wasn't quite tender. "Everything you can take before he breaks your heart again."

She left soon after, closing the door behind her with a soft click. The room fell silent again, but it wasn't empty. I could feel it - the echo of power stirring in the distance. Her power.

I moved to the table, spreading out the papers that mapped the hierarchy of the packs, the bloodlines, the prophecies whispered by those who still remembered the old ways. In the center, one name burned in ink: Stella Bellingham.

I traced it with my finger, the ghost of a smile returning to my lips.

"You were born to stand beside a king," I whispered. "You just didn't know the king was me."

Outside, the wind shifted, carrying the faintest echo of a howl across the valley. Somewhere deep inside me, something answered, low, dark, and hungry.

Fate had chosen Alexander Calum.

But I was going to rewrite her story.

And this time, the moon would rise for me.

Alexander's POV

The last thing I expected when I walked into my grandmother's house that morning was her.

Stella.

For weeks, I'd managed to convince myself that what happened between us was buried. That rejecting her was the right thing, the only thing to do.

Humans weren't meant to walk our path, and I wasn't going to be the fool who defied the Moon's laws. I'd burned the bridge, walked away, and told myself I could live without her.

But the moment I stepped into that sitting room and saw her standing beside my grandmother, arranging roses like she belonged there... every lie I'd told myself collapsed in an instant.

Her scent hit me first. It was sweet and familiar. Like vanilla and rain-soaked wood. My entire body went rigid.

My wolf who had been silent for weeks stirred awake with a violent growl.

Mate.

No. Not anymore. I replied him instantly.

I clenched my fists, forcing the instinct down, but it was already too late. She turned then, slow, cautious, her gaze colliding with mine.

The world went still.

For one agonizing heartbeat, I forgot how to breathe. She looked exactly as she had that night. Fragile and furious, her eyes wide with disbelief and something that cut deeper than anger. Hurt.

"Alexander," she whispered.

The sound of my name in her voice nearly undid me.

Grandmother beamed between us, completely unaware of the tension filling the room. "Ah, good! You're both here. Alexander, this is Stella Beilingham, my new assistant. She's been helping with the gardens and keeping me company. A blessing, truly."

Her words twisted like a cruel joke. A blessing.

Stella blinked, recovering faster than I did. "Good afternoon, Mr. Calum." Her voice was polite and distant, like the way you'd speak to a stranger.

I forced my jaw to unclench. "Miss Beilingham."

Grandmother's gaze flicked between us. "You two know each other?"

"No," we said at the same time.

Her brows rose, amused, but she didn't pry. "Well, I suppose you'll get to know each other soon enough. Stella, dear, could you bring the tea? I'll show Alexander the renovation plans."

Stella nodded quickly and disappeared into the kitchen, her steps light but shaky. I watched her go, unable to stop myself. The way her hair brushed her neck, the faint tremor in her hands, every detail hit like a memory I wasn't ready to relive.

When Grandmother finally left the room to fetch her papers, I followed the pull I'd been fighting since the second I saw her. My boots echoed softly on the marble as I walked into the kitchen.

She froze when she noticed me, the porcelain teacup trembling slightly in her hand.

"You shouldn't sneak up on people," she said quietly.

I ignored the jab. "You work here now."

She set the cup down carefully. "I do."

"For how long?"

"I don't know. As long as the money keeps coming I guess."

I leaned against the counter, crossing my arms to hide the tension vibrating through me. "Did you know whose house this was before you came?"

Her throat bobbed. "No. I wouldn't have accepted if I did."

I nodded slowly, jaw tightening. "Smart."

Her gaze flickered up, anger sparking behind the hurt. "You think this is funny?"

"No," I said. "I think it's a mistake."

"Of course you do." Her voice wavered, but she forced it steady. "Everything about me is a mistake to you, isn't it?"

That hit harder than it should have. I turned away before she could see the flicker of guilt that crossed my face. "You shouldn't be here, Stella. You need to leave."

She let out a shaky laugh, bitter and tired. "You think I want to be here? I took this job because I needed one. Because I was trying to start over. I didn't know I'd walk into this."

Her voice cracked on the last word, and something inside me splintered. My wolf pushed harder against my control, his growl echoing in my skull. Fix it. She's ours.

I clenched my teeth. "You don't belong here."

The silence that followed was unbearable. She stared at me like she was seeing straight through me, into every lie I'd ever told.

"You really hate me that much?" she whispered.

I wanted to say no. I wanted to tell her the truth, that hating her was impossible, that every night I'd tried to erase her from my mind only made her come back stronger. But instead, I said the one thing I knew would make her leave.

"Yes."

Her breath hitched like I'd struck her. She straightened, gathering what was left of her pride.

"Then you have nothing to worry about. I'll ask your grandmother to find someone else. I'll be gone by tomorrow."

She brushed past me, and the faint brush of her shoulder against my arm was enough to send a shock straight to my bones. My wolf snarled, loud and vicious.

I turned sharply. "Stella."

She stopped at the door but didn't look back.

"You should leave," I said again, each word colder than the last. "You're not meant to be here."

For a moment, I thought she might argue. But she only nodded once, quietly, and walked away.

The second she disappeared around the corner, the world tilted. My wolf surged up so violently that it knocked the breath out of me.

You fool, he roared inside my head. You let her walk away again!

Pain exploded through my chest. My hands slammed against the counter, claws threatening to tear through my skin. The air around me thickened, vibrating with energy I couldn't contain.

"Stop," I hissed through gritted teeth. "Not here."

But he didn't stop. His fury clawed through every part of me like a primal, possessive rage that refused to be silenced.

My vision blurred. The porcelain cup on the counter shattered as my control slipped, shards flying across the floor. My pulse pounded like a war drum.

The house seemed to hum with the echo of my unrest, lights flickering briefly as if the very air reacted to my chaos. I pressed a trembling hand to my chest, breathing hard.

You rejected her, my wolf snarled. But the bond still lives. You feel it. You always will.

"Enough," I growled aloud, voice rough and dangerous. "I ended it."

But even as I said the words, I knew they were a lie.

Because when she looked at me, my heart had betrayed me. Because every inch of me still reached for her, still wanted her.

Because no matter how many times I said she didn't belong in my world, the truth whispered through every breath. She was the only thing that ever did.

The rage faded slowly, leaving me trembling, drenched in sweat, staring at the broken pieces of porcelain on the floor.

I could still smell her. Vanilla and rain.

And somewhere deep in my chest, beneath all the anger and denial, something dangerous stirred, not hatred, not guilt.

Hope.

The most dangerous thing of all.

The door slammed somewhere down the hall, the sound of Stella leaving.

And this time, my wolf didn't just growl, he howled.

Stella's POV

My heart pounded in my ears as I left his side. Why do I keep seeing him everywhere I go? Was rejecting me not enough.

I stood still for a moment, my back against the wall, my heart panting, and pounding. Because even here, even now, I could still feel it. I could still feel his presence in the sitting room and it unsettled me. Unravelled me even.

I waited until I heard the door slam shut and the sound of his engine starting. I didn't move until he had driven away. His grandmother's voice rang out, calling for her son but she was met with silence. I heard her sigh, before speaking. "Why is Alexander always this stubborn? Why can't he just tell me what's bothering him instead of storming off like someone that is being haunted like a ghost?"

I moved immediately, grabbing a nearby vacuum cleaner to get rid of the broken shards of glasses before she got hurt.

"I can help with that." I spoke quickly as I saw her.

"Oh Stella, you don't need to bother yourself with this. I can handle it or send for one of the help."

"No. Please allow me." My voice was soft as I gently collected the broken pieces from her. She smiled. A small smile but it was enough to warm my heart. Enough to convince me that she was nothing like her grandson.

Her voice drew me out of my thoughts. "Stella, you look... lost. Is everything okay?"

"Yeah..." I replied but my voice sounded faraway. "I'll be done in a second." I packed the instrument I was using to clean earlier and put it away.

"Come Stella. We were just getting to know ourselves before my rude grandson interrupted."

I returned shortly, and she gestured at me. "Sit child. Tell me about yourself."

Unsure of what to do, or say, I sat down beside her. "Tell me everything Stella. Don't hold back. Who are you? Who are your parents? Where did you come from?"

"Well. I am a basic nobody."

"Really?" Grandma Calum raised an eyebrow, picking up a crochet piece she was weaving earlier.

"Yes. I grew up in an orphanage, and I've lived all my life as an orphan. I've never met my parents and I know nothing about them but I can vividly remember only one detail. They left me in a blanket that smelled like cedar and rain." My voice had dropped now, sounding sadder than I'd intended, but I continued anyway.

"I moved out of the orphanage and got my own place at the age of nineteen and I've been working multiple jobs just to keep myself afloat. The most recent was at a night club where I met your son."

"You've met my son? I thought you denied meeting him earlier." She looked at me sternly.

"Yes," I replied, visibly ashamed of myself. "I did that out of convenience. Because he was the same man I felt strongly connected to. The same person I've been seeing in my dreams. The same person that rejected me immediately reacted to his touch. So... I'm sorry I lied but I just couldn't admit to knowing the person that rejected me before he even knew me. His rejection landed me in the hospital."

"Really? And did I hear you say something about seeing him in your dreams? Tell me about your strange dreams Stella. Tell me everything and please be truthful."

"I've been dreaming of him since I was eighteen." I started. "The same man came to me every night claiming and marking me. Making sweet love to me makes me feel safe and deeply connected to him."

She raised her eyebrows, but listened intently, paying full attention to every word that I said.

"I always look forward to seeing him again every night, because with him I can totally submit myself and allow him to do with my body as he pleases. I don't always see his face but I know it strongly in my heart that what we share is real. Our feelings for each other are genuine."

"Does anything happen when you wake up from sleep?" Grandma Elara probed further.

"Umm yes. I wake up soaked with sweat, my pussy wet and the feel of his hands on my skin, as if he was just there with me in my bedroom.

She nodded slowly, understanding written on her face. "And do you know what these dreams mean Stella?" she asked like a wise old sage.

"I don't." The admission was raw. There was no need pretending I understood any of it. "I don't understand why it keeps happening. Even when I try to stop it, I can't. He always comes, and I cannot say no to him."

"That's because he's your fated mate."

"Fate mate? You mean soul mate right?"

"No." Her tone was soft but serious, like she was about to say something grim. "Humans have soul mates but werewolves have what we call a fated mate, destined to be yours by the moon goddess.

I almost laughed. Werewolves? I and Naomi had argued that a thousand times and even though everything looks supernatural, I still didn't believe that it was real.

As if she read my thoughts, the next thing she said addressed them. "The werewolves are real Stella. Don't make the mistake of doubting it. You might even be one of them."

"One of them?" I asked, shocked.

"Stella, different worlds exist outside what humans can see. There are those who are born witches, with the witch blood flowing in their veins. They can perform dark magic, heal the sick, and concert charms or spells for different reasons. The werewolves which is the world I belong to are humans born with the instincts of a wolf. They transform into a wolf in the full moon because we are being driven, our energy force is powered by the moon. Our instincts are that of the flesh, we mark our mates to connect them to ourselves but..." she paused as if for effect. "I think you belong to both worlds."

"Wait! What?"

"Let me show you what I mean." Mrs Elara said, getting up casually. "I am a white wolf." Before she finished talking, she transformed into a huge ethereal wolf. Her furs were pure white, with tiny streaks of blue lining up her furs. Big blue eyes that shone in the room making me tremble at her alpha aura.

She transformed back to human before I would start shaking and continued speaking as if she was giving me a lecture. "While you," she pulled out a huge book from the table, bringing out an old photo from the middle.

She handed me the picture and my jaw dropped. The person in the picture looked exactly like me only that she was older. Like me in the future. She ignored my shock and continued with her teaching. "Or people like you who dream of love before they meet it are half wolf and half witch."

"So you mean-"

"Yes. Stella, your dreams are not random. They are memories, and the man in them, whether you know him or not, is your true mate chosen by the Moon. Your souls have already been bonded even before meeting."

Everything came flashing back in that moment. The pull, the connection, my reaction to his presence. Alexander is my mate. And I am a part wolf.

"It's Alexander." I whispered, low and unsteady but she heard it.

"You can't be so sure, child. If you're his mate and he rejected you as he said, that means Alexander is a big fool. And I didn't raise a fool.

For the first time, I was scared to go to bed that night. Because I knew he would come again in my dreams, to touch me in all the places that makes me feel alive.

And I didn't know how to face him.