I opened the wrong door.

I knew it the second the handle turned.

This wasn't the storage room.

This wasn't the dressing room Sienna mentioned.

This wasn't safe.

Warm air brushed my face.

Not perfume.

Not food.

Something clean. Sharp. Masculine.

Steam drifted past me.

My fingers tightened around the fabric bag Sienna had given me.

"Change upstairs," she had said. "First door on the left."

I must have miscounted.

Stupid.

I stepped inside anyway.

Just one step.

Then I froze.

Someone was there.

He stood a few feet away.

Bare chest.

Water sliding down his skin.

Dark hair is still wet.

A towel low on his hips.

My breath stopped.

My mind went blank.

It was him.

The man from the hall.

The one who made people move without speaking.

The one who scared that drunk man with just a look.

The one who had been staring at me.

The one I couldn't stop thinking about.

Up close, he looked even bigger.

Stronger.

Scar across his shoulder.

Another near his ribs.

Old marks. Deep ones.

Not accidents.

Fights.

Real fights.

My throat went dry.

"I'm sorry," I blurted. "Wrong room."

My hand flew to the handle.

But his voice stopped me.

"Wait."

One word.

Low.

Steady.

Commanding.

My body obeyed before my brain did.

I hated that.

Silence stretched.

Too long.

Too heavy.

He didn't cover himself.

Didn't move.

Just watched me.

Like he was studying me.

Like I was a problem he couldn't solve.

I swallowed.

"You're staring," I said.

My voice sounded smaller than I wanted.

"You're shaking," he replied.

I looked down.

My hands really were trembling.

"Because you're staring."

His eyes didn't leave my face.

"I'm trying to remember you."

The words hit me strangely.

"Remember me?" I laughed nervously. "We've never met."

He didn't smile.

"That's what's bothering me."

My heart beat faster.

Why does he sound so sure?

I forced myself to breathe.

"Look, sir, I just need to change. My friend told me to use the room"

"This isn't the guest room."

"I figured."

"It's mine."

Oh.

Oh God.

This was his bedroom.

Heat rushed to my face.

"I'm so sorry. I'll leave"

"Stop apologizing."

His tone wasn't angry.

Just firm.

Like he didn't like the word sorry coming from me.

That confused me even more.

Who was this man?

And why did he talk to me like I mattered?

He stepped closer.

One step.

That was all.

But it felt like the air shrank.

Like the room wasn't big enough for both of us.

I caught his scent then.

Clean soap.

Metal.

Rain.

Something wild underneath.

My chest tightened.

My stomach flipped.

My knees felt weak.

What is wrong with me?

I barely know him.

So why does my body feel like this?

Like it recognizes him?

Like it's... safe?

No.

Not safe.

Drawn.

Pulled.

Like gravity.

"You work here?" he asked.

"Yes."

"For how long?"

"Tonight only."

"Who hired you?"

"My friend."

"Name."

"Sienna Blackwood."

Something flickered in his eyes.

Shock?

No.

Something deeper.

Something like calculation.

"You're her friend?" he asked slowly.

"Yes."

He studied me again.

Longer this time.

His gaze traced my face like he was memorizing every detail.

It made my skin warm.

I hated that it didn't feel uncomfortable.

It should.

But it didn't.

It felt...

intimate.

Too intimate.

"You don't look like you belong here," he said quietly.

The words stung.

"I know."

"I didn't mean it like that."

"It's fine. I'm used to it."

His jaw tightened.

"Used to what?"

"Being the help."

He didn't answer.

But something in his eyes darkened.

Like anger.

Not at me.

At something else.

Silence again.

Then he sniffed.

Softly.

Like he was testing the air.

I almost laughed.

But his expression changed.

Completely.

His shoulders stiffened.

His eyes sharpened.

His pupils widened.

Like a predator locking onto prey.

Or

No.

Not prey.

Something precious.

Something rare.

"What shampoo do you use?" he suddenly asked.

"What?"

"Your scent."

I blinked. "Excuse me?"

"You smell..."

He stopped.

Like he didn't want to finish the sentence.

"That's weird," I said quickly. "Please don't smell me."

For the first time, his lips twitched.

Almost a smile.

"Sorry."

But he didn't look sorry.

He looked confused.

Shaken.

Like something impossible just happened.

My phone buzzed.

A message from Sienna.

Change upstairs. I left you a blue dress. Hurry.

Right.

Focus.

Work.

Leave.

"That's why I came," I said, lifting the bag. "She told me to change. The zipper on my old dress broke."

He looked at the bag.

Then at me.

Then in the bathroom.

"You can change here," he said.

I choked. "Here?"

"I'll step out."

"You don't have to"

"It's fine."

His voice softened slightly.

And somehow that was more dangerous than when he sounded cold.

He turned his back.

I quickly slipped behind the divider and changed.

The blue dress hugged my body tighter than I expected.

Too tight.

Definitely not my style.

I struggled with the zipper.

It wouldn't move.

I twisted. Pulled. I tried again.

Nothing.

"Of course," I muttered. "Of course today hates me."

"Problem?" his voice came.

"It's stuck."

Silence.

Then

"Turn around."

My heart skipped.

"Wh-what?"

"I'll fix it."

"That's okay, I'll manage"

"You can't reach."

He was right.

I hated that he was right.

Slowly, I stepped out.

My back to him.

My hands clenched.

"Don't laugh," I said.

"I won't."

His voice was closer now.

Too close.

I felt his fingers brush the fabric near my spine.

Warm.

Careful.

My breath caught.

Electricity shot through me.

My skin tingled where he touched.

Why?

Why does it feel like this?

It's just a zipper.

Just a stranger.

Just

His fingers accidentally brushed my skin.

And everything stopped.

My heart slammed so hard it hurt.

The air felt thick.

My thoughts scattered.

For one second

I wanted him to touch me again.

I hated myself for that.

"You're cold," he murmured.

"I'm fine."

"You're not."

"Why do you care?"

The question slipped out before I could stop it.

He paused.

Then said quietly,

"I don't know."

The zipper slid up.

Smooth.

Done.

But neither of us moved.

Not yet.

We were too close.

His breath was warm near my neck.

My pulse is loud in my ears.

If I turn around, I'll bump into him.

If I stay still, I'll lose my mind.

Finally, I stepped forward.

Distance.

Air.

Sanity.

"Thank you," I said.

He nodded.

But his eyes were still locked on me.

Like I might disappear.

Like he was afraid to blink.

"Have we met before?" he asked.

"No."

"You're sure?"

"Yes."

He frowned.

"Then why does my wolf recognize you?"

I stared at him.

"Your... what?"

He went quiet.

Too quiet.

Like he had said too much.

"Forget it," he said quickly.

But I didn't forget.

Wolf?

What kind of joke is that?

Or was it a metaphor?

Was he drunk?

Crazy?

Or

Something else?

Something I didn't understand yet?

My phone buzzed again.

Sienna.

Where are you? Guests asking for drinks.

"I have to go," I said.

He didn't stop me.

But his eyes followed every step.

Like he was memorizing how I walked.

Like he was afraid this would be the last time he saw me.

That thought scared me.

Why would it be the last time?

Why does it feel like something big is about to happen?

My hand touched the door.

Then

behind me

so soft I almost didn't hear it

he whispered,

"Second chance...?"

I froze.

"What did you say?"

"Nothing."

But his voice wasn't steady.

It sounded shaken.

Like hope.

Like fear.

Like he had just found something he lost a long time ago.

I stepped into the hallway.

My heart is still racing.

My skin is still burning.

My mind still stuck on him.

Who are you?

Why do you look at me like that?

And why does it feel like meeting you just changed my life?

Behind the door, I heard something heavy move.

A low sound.

Almost like a growl.

Deep.

Animals.

Not human.

I turned slowly.

The door was still closed.

But for one second

I could swear I saw a shadow under the gap.

Too large.

Too wide.

Not shaped like a man.

My breath caught.

What are you?

Before I could think further, footsteps approached.

And a cold voice spoke from the corridor behind me.

"Well," a man said softly, "so you're the girl the Alpha can't stop staring at."

I turned.

A stranger smiled at me.

But his eyes were sharp.

Dangerous.

I'm interested.

"Let's talk," he said.

My stomach dropped.

How does he know that?

How many people were watching me tonight?

And why?

Behind the door, the Alpha whispered my scent like a prayer.

In front of me, a stranger smiled like a threat.

And for the first time in my life...

I realized I wasn't invisible anymore.

I was being hunted.

They wouldn't stop touching me.

At first, it was small things.

A hand brushing my waist.

Fingers grazing my arm when they didn't need to.

Someone standing too close behind me.

Too close. Too warm. Too heavy.

I told myself it was an accident.

Crowded party.

Busy night.

People bump into each other.

Normal.

But my skin kept crawling.

Like ants under my flesh.

Like something was wrong.

Very wrong.

I tightened my grip on the tray.

Smile.

Serve.

Walk away.

Don't cause trouble.

Don't make a scene.

That's how girls like me survive.

"Hey, waitress."

I stopped.

A man snapped his fingers at me.

Not waved.

Not called.

Snapped.

Like calling a dog.

"Drink," he said.

I poured.

He didn't even look at me.

Just stared at my chest.

Slow. Open. Shameless.

My throat burned.

"Anything else, sir?" I asked.

He smirked. "Yeah. Smile more."

I forced one.

He leaned closer. "Pretty girls shouldn't look sad. Makes men uncomfortable."

My chest tightened.

Since when did my face exist to make men comfortable?

Before I could answer, someone else grabbed the tray.

"Over here."

Then another voice.

"Girl, two more glasses."

Then another hand.

"Come closer. I can't hear you."

Too many.

Too fast.

I moved from one group to another.

But somehow

Every time

It was the same man.

The same eyes.

The same smirks.

Like they were following me.

No.

Not following.

Herding.

My steps slowed.

Wait.

That's not normal.

I looked around for Sienna.

Couldn't see her.

Looked for other staff.

Gone.

Where did everyone go?

A minute ago there were five waiters near me.

Now I was alone.

Just me and them.

My heart skipped.

Did they send everyone away?

Why?

"Drink with us."

A glass was pushed into my hand.

"I'm working," I said.

"Just one."

"I'm not allowed."

"Relax. We won't tell."

His smile didn't reach his eyes.

Something ugly hid there.

Something hungry.

"I said no," I repeated.

He stepped closer.

Too close.

"Don't be rude."

"I'm not"

"Drink."

The word wasn't a request.

It was a command.

My chest tightened.

The glass pressed harder into my hand.

Liquid sloshed.

Dark red.

Wine.

Or something else.

"Please," I said quietly. "I really can't."

Another man laughed. "She thinks she's special."

"Yeah. Acting expensive in a cheap uniform."

"Maybe she needs help loosening up."

My stomach dropped.

Loosening up.

I'd heard that phrase before.

It never ended well.

I tried to step back.

Someone blocked me.

I turned.

Another body.

Another wall.

They had formed a circle around me.

When did that happen?

How did I not notice?

My pulse was hammered.

This is bad.

This is really bad.

"Hey," I said, forcing my voice steady. "Move. Guests need drinks."

"We're guests," one of them said.

Laughter.

Low.

Ugly.

One of them leaned near my ear.

"You smell nice," he whispered.

I flinched.

"Stop."

He chuckled. "Scared?"

"Yes."

The honesty surprised even me.

They laughed harder.

Predators.

That's what they felt like.

Not men.

Predators.

And me

Prey.

Suddenly, a hand grabbed my chin.

Forced my face up.

"Look at me when I talk to you."

Rage flashed through me.

"I said let go."

"Or what?"

My mind screamed for Sienna.

For anyone.

For help.

But the music was loud.

And no one looked our way.

Like this corner didn't exist.

Like we were invisible.

Like someone planned it that way.

A new voice cut in.

Smooth.

Cold.

The same man from earlier.

The one in the hallway after Roman.

The stranger with the dangerous smile.

He stepped closer.

"Well," he said lightly, "this is ugly."

The men stiffened.

"Back off," one muttered.

The stranger smiled. "You're making a mess at a King's party. That's stupid."

"So?"

"So stupid men disappear."

Silence.

They backed away a little.

Not much.

But enough.

I breathed out.

"Thank you," I whispered.

He looked at me carefully.

Like I was an object.

Not a person.

"You're the one the Alpha noticed, right?" he said softly.

My heart skipped.

"What?"

He tilted his head. "Don't pretend. Half the room saw it."

Saw what?

Him staring?

Why would that matter?

"I don't know what you're talking about," I said.

"Interesting," he murmured.

He picked up the glass from my tray.

Swirled it.

Then handed it to me.

"Drink," he said.

I shook my head. "No."

His smile stayed.

But his eyes hardened.

"It's rude to refuse."

"I said no."

He leaned closer.

"So you only drink for him?"

My chest tightened.

"I don't even know him."

"Then prove it."

The glass pressed to my lips.

My hands shook.

If I fight, they'll get angry.

If I drink, maybe they'll leave me alone.

Just one sip.

Just survive.

I took a small swallow.

Bitter.

Strange.

Not wine.

My stomach dropped.

Too late.

"Good girl," he said.

My skin crawled.

He walked away like nothing happened.

Like he hadn't just forced me.

Like this was normal.

Ten minutes later, my legs felt weak.

My head is light.

The tray felt heavy.

Too heavy.

What's wrong with me?

I barely drank.

My vision blurred.

The music sounded far away.

My fingers trembled.

No.

No no no.

They drugged me.

Panic exploded in my chest.

I need Sienna.

I need

My knees buckled.

Strong arms caught me.

But not gentle ones.

Rough.

Greedy.

"Easy," someone said. "She's about to fall."

"Take her upstairs."

"Yeah. Before someone sees."

My heart pounded.

"No," I whispered. "Let me go."

My voice sounded small.

Weak.

Like a child.

They lifted me.

Carried me.

My head spun.

I tried to fight.

My hands barely moved.

My body wasn't listening.

Tears burned my eyes.

Not like this.

Please not like this.

Not again.

Not helpless.

Not small.

Not nothing.

"Put me down," I begged.

"Relax," someone laughed. "We're helping you."

Liar.

Liar.

Liar.

My vision blurred more.

Doors passed.

Hallways.

My mind screamed.

But my body wouldn't obey.

Why am I so weak?

Why can't I fight?

Then a voice.

Deep.

Cold.

Deadly calm.

"Put her down."

Everything stopped.

Even my heart.

I knew that voice.

Even half-conscious.

Even terrified.

Him.

The men holding me stiffened.

"Mind your business," one snapped.

Silence.

Then slow footsteps.

Closer.

Closer.

"You're holding something that belongs to me," he said quietly.

Something changed in the air.

Heavy.

Dangerous.

Like a storm.

"She's just staff"

The next second

A crash.

A scream.

A body flying.

I blinked.

One man slammed into the wall.

Another on the floor.

Blood.

So fast.

Too fast.

He moved like lightning.

Like violence given shape.

"Touch her again," he growled, voice low and animal, "and you die."

Not shouting.

Not threatening.

Promising.

The men froze.

Fear filled their faces.

Real fear.

They dropped me.

I stumbled.

Before I hit the ground

Strong arms caught me.

Careful this time.

Gentle.

Like I was glass.

"Look at me," he said softly.

I tried.

His face blurred.

But I saw his eyes.

Bright.

Wild.

Gold.

Not normal.

Not human.

My breath hitched.

"What did they give you?" he asked.

"I... don't know..."

His jaw tightened.

Rage flashed so hard it scared me.

"I'll kill them," he muttered.

"No," I whispered weakly.

He looked down at me.

Something changed in his expression.

Not anger.

Not dominance.

Fear.

"You're shaking," he said.

"I'm fine."

"You're not."

His hand touched my cheek.

Warm.

Steady.

Safe.

Why does he feel safe?

Why him?

Why now?

My fingers clutched his shirt.

Tight.

Like if I let go, I'd fall into darkness.

"Don't leave," I whispered.

The words slipped out before I could stop them.

His eyes softened.

"I won't," he said.

And somehow

I believed him.

He lifted me into his arms like I weighed nothing.

Like I mattered.

Like I was his.

And as my head rested against his chest, listening to his wild, furious heartbeat, one thought echoed through my fading mind

Why does the most dangerous man in this house feel like the only place I'm safe?

I couldn't think.

My head felt heavy. My chest felt tight. My heart would not slow down.

Roman's arms were around me, and that was the only thing that felt real.

He carried me like I weighed nothing.

Not like a burden.

Not like a stranger.

Like something he was afraid to drop.

My fingers fisted into his shirt without permission. I did not even remember grabbing him. I just knew that if I let go, I might fall apart.

"Don't," I whispered.

My voice sounded small. Weak.

He looked down at me at once. "Don't what?"

"Don't let go."

His jaw tightened. "I wasn't planning to."

His voice was rough. Too rough. Like he was holding something back.

Or holding himself back.

When he set me down on the bed, my legs still trembled.

The drug hadn't fully left my body. My thoughts came slow and soft, like walking through water.

But one thing was clear.

Him.

Roman Blackwood.

Too close. Too warm. Too much.

He crouched in front of me, eyes scanning my face like he was checking for injuries.

"Talk to me," he said quietly. "Are you dizzy?"

"Yes."

"Pain?"

"No."

"Nausea?"

"A little."

His hands curled into fists.

"I should kill them," he muttered.

The words were calm.

That scared me more than shouting would have.

"You already hurt them," I said.

"Hurt isn't enough."

He looked up at me.

His eyes were not soft anymore.

They were dark. Violent. Possessive.

"They touched you."

My breath caught.

The way he said it.

Not angry.

Not jealous.

Something deeper.

Like it was personal.

Like they had stolen something that belonged to him.

"You barely know me," I whispered.

He went still.

Then he asked quietly, "Do you really believe that?"

My heart skipped.

"What does that mean?"

He didn't answer.

He just kept staring.

Studying me.

Like he was trying to remember something.

Silence stretched between us.

Heavy.

Hot.

Dangerous.

He reached for the zipper at the back of my dress.

"May I?" he asked.

The simple question made my stomach twist.

No man had ever asked me anything like that before.

They always assumed.

Always took.

Roman asked.

I nodded slowly.

His fingers brushed my back as he helped me out of the ruined dress.

Just a touch.

Just skin.

But it felt like lightning.

My breath hitched.

He froze.

"You're shaking," he said.

"Because you're staring."

"I'm trying not to."

"Then why are you?"

His voice dropped to a whisper.

"Because I feel like if I look away, you'll disappear."

My chest tightened.

No one had ever said something like that to me.

No one had ever looked at me like that.

No pity.

Not desire.

Not ownership.

Something else.

Something raw.

Something that scared me more than the drug.

"Why did you save me?" I asked.

His brows pulled together like the answer was obvious.

"I wasn't going to let them hurt you."

"You could've called security."

"I didn't want security touching you either."

I swallowed.

"That doesn't make sense."

"It doesn't have to."

He stood up suddenly and stepped away.

Too far away.

The cold rushed in instantly.

I hated it.

I hated how my body reacted to his absence.

He ran a hand through his hair.

He looked frustrated.

Angry.

At himself.

"This is wrong," he muttered.

"What is?"

"This pull."

My heart slammed harder.

"What pull?"

He laughed once.

Bitter.

"You really don't feel it?"

I opened my mouth.

Then I closed it.

Because lying suddenly felt pointless.

"... I do."

The words slipped out.

Soft.

Honest.

"I don't understand it," I continued. "But when you're close, my chest feels tight. When you walk away, it hurts. That's crazy. I just met you."

"You didn't just meet me," he said quietly.

I blinked. "What?"

He looked at me like he almost said something else.

Then he shook his head.

"Nothing."

I hated that answer.

"Don't do that," I said.

"Do what?"

"Hide things from me."

"You wouldn't like the truth."

"Try me."

His eyes darkened.

"If I touch you, I won't stop."

The air left my lungs.

Not a threat.

Not arrogance.

A warning.

Like he was protecting me from himself.

My voice came out softer than I expected.

"Then don't stop."

Silence.

The kind that makes your ears ring.

He stared at me like I had just handed him a loaded gun.

"You don't know what you're saying," he murmured.

"I know exactly what I'm saying."

"Elena"

"I was almost taken tonight. Drugged. Treated like trash." My throat burned. "And you're the only person who looked at me like I mattered."

My hands trembled.

"But you're walking away like I'm dangerous to you."

His voice cracked.

"You are."

That broke something inside me.

I stood up, even though my legs were weak.

"If I'm so dangerous, why did you carry me like I was something precious?"

He didn't answer.

"Why did you fight for me?"

Silence.

"Why are you looking at me like that right now?"

He stepped closer.

One step.

Slow.

Controlled.

Like approaching fire.

"Because," he said quietly, "my wolf hasn't stopped screaming since I touched you."

My heart pounded so loud I could hear it.

"I don't understand," I whispered.

"You're not supposed to."

His hand came up and brushed my cheek.

So gentle.

So careful.

Like I might break.

My eyes closed without permission.

The warmth spread through me.

Comfort.

Safety.

Home.

Home?

Why did he feel like home?

"I've never reacted to anyone like this," he admitted.

"Me neither."

"If I cross this line, everything changes."

"Maybe everything has already changed."

Our foreheads almost touched.

His breath mixed with mine.

My chest rose and fell too fast.

He whispered, barely audible.

"Say stop and I'll walk away."

I didn't.

I couldn't.

Because the truth was simple.

If he walked away now, it would hurt more than anything tonight.

More than the drug.

More than the fear.

More than the humiliation.

So I shook my head.

And whispered, "Stay."

He kissed me.

Soft.

Careful.

Like asking permission.

Not talking.

Never talking.

My fingers gripped his shirt again.

He made a low sound in his throat like he had been starving.

But even then, he held back.

Always holding back.

Always choosing control.

That's what made it worse.

Because it meant he respected me.

And respect was more dangerous than desire.

He rested his forehead against mine.

His voice broke.

"This isn't just attraction."

"I know."

"This isn't just chemistry."

"I know."

He swallowed hard.

Then the word slipped out.

Quiet.

Reverent.

Terrified.

"... Mate."

My eyes opened.

"What?"

His jaw tightened.

Like he regretted saying it.

But it was too late.

The word hung between us.

Heavy.

Important.

Final.

"Mate?" I repeated.

He nodded once.

"In our world... It means one person. Only one. For life."

My pulse raced.

"That's not possible. We just met."

"I know."

"You don't even know me."

"I know."

"Then how"

"I don't choose this," he said. "It chooses me."

My heart felt like it might burst.

For the first time in my life, I wasn't a second choice.

No backup.

Not charity.

Chosen.

Only.

Hi.

The thought scared me.

But it also healed something old and broken inside me.

"What happens now?" I asked.

He looked at me like the answer scared him too.

"Now... nothing stays simple."

Later, sleep dragged me under.

Warm.

Safe.

His arms around me.

Like he was guarding me even in dreams.

When I woke up, sunlight touched my face.

I wasn't alone.

I was in his bed.

Wrapped in his shirt.

His scent is everywhere.

And the door across the room slowly opened.

A woman's sharp voice cut through the air.

"So this is the girl you chose over your pack, Roman?"

My blood ran cold.

Chosen?

Over his pack?

What did that mean?

And why did she sound like she wanted me gone?