Lara's POV
My mother was finally transferred to a suite room, despite my repeated requests for a regular one. The hospital staff insisted that the arrangement had already been settled and fully paid for. I did not have to ask who did it. Of course, it was him.
The moment I stepped into the room, I could smell the faint trace of expensive disinfectant mixed with the scent of fresh lilies on the bedside table. Everything looked so polished, so perfect, so far from what I wanted. My chest tightened with anger.
He did this on purpose. I knew it. Every little act of kindness from him came with a chain I could never break. Paying for this room was just another way to make me owe him more than I could ever repay.
It was not generosity. It was control. And I hated him even more for it. The more he tried to make my life easier, the more he made me feel trapped. My obligation to him grew heavier each day, and I knew that no matter how hard I worked, no matter how long I tried, I could never pay him back, not in a month, not even in a year.
After seven long days, my mother was finally discharged from the hospital. Marco kept his word. A private nurse arrived that same morning to take care of her, leaving me with no excuse to stay home any longer. I had no choice but to return to work as his secretary, whether I liked it or not.
The elevator doors slid open, and I stepped inside.
"Lara!" Judy's cheerful voice broke the silence, and I turned to see her smiling at me. Her energy was always the same, warm, talkative, impossible to ignore. For the first time that week, I felt something close to relief.
"Hi, Judy," I said softly.
"How's your mom?" she asked, genuine concern in her tone.
"She's getting better, thanks," I replied, pressing the button for our floor.
"That's good to hear." Judy hesitated for a moment before grinning. "By the way, I didn't get the chance to congratulate you. Though, I have to admit, I'm a little hurt you didn't tell me about your relationship with our boss." Her voice carried a teasing mix of excitement and curiosity.
I almost laughed at the absurdity of it, but I managed to hold it in. Judy was clearly human, like me, someone who only saw Marco as the company's brilliant and intimidating CEO. She had no idea about his other side, the one that spoke of packs and markings as if we lived in some forgotten legend.
I wanted to tell her the truth that I had rejected his proposal, that there was no relationship to speak of, but I swallowed the words. The last thing I needed was gossip spreading through the company. Marco might act calm in front of others, but I knew what his anger felt like.
He had saved my mother's life, and for that, I owed him. No matter how much it hurt, I had to play my part and show gratitude. Whatever was happening between us had to stay that way, hidden, unspoken, and carefully contained.
The moment he arrived, I felt it. His presence filled the air long before he even stepped into the office. It was as if the air itself recognized him before my eyes did. I could sense him, the warmth of his energy, the faint trace of his scent that always seemed to find me no matter where I was. The pull between us returned, sharp and relentless, and it hurt in ways I could not explain.
Everyone greeted him with polite smiles and cheerful voices. I joined them, forcing out a quiet "Good morning, sir," without daring to lift my head. My hands trembled slightly over the keyboard as I tried to steady my breathing. I was afraid to look at him, afraid that one glance would undo every wall I had built to protect myself.
But then his voice filled the room, deep and calm, and my heart reacted before my mind could. Each word reminded me of how close we once were. Against my will, my mind began to drift back to the cabin, to the warmth of his skin against mine, to the way he kissed every inch of me until I forgot my own name. The memory burned through me, raw and vivid, until I could feel the heat rise to my cheeks.
Panic gripped me. I pushed my chair back and stood up quickly, mumbling something about needing a break. My legs felt weak as I hurried out of the office, ignoring the curious looks from my coworkers. The moment I reached the restroom, I turned on the tap and splashed cold water on my face. The chill stung my skin, but it was the only thing that could drown the rush of desire threatening to consume me again.
I stared at my reflection in the mirror, breath unsteady, heart still racing. No matter how hard I tried to forget, my body remembered him.
The moment I returned to my desk, I was summoned to his office. My pulse quickened as I stepped inside, but the man behind the desk was not the same one who once held me close. Marco was back to being cold and distant.
I spoke quietly as I handed him his schedule for the day. He didn't interrupt me, didn't even lift his eyes from the papers in front of him. He just nodded and muttered a few short responses, his tone flat, his attention elsewhere.
His indifference stung more than I wanted to admit.
I should have been grateful that he didn't bring up his proposal or the contract again. I should have felt relieved that we could pretend nothing had happened between us. Yet a small, foolish part of me wished he would say something, anything, that proved what happened at the cabin had meant something to him.
But he didn't. The entire day passed in quiet torture. He didn't call my name once. He didn't ask for coffee, didn't ask for assistance, didn't even glance my way. I watched him from across the room, pretending to work while my heart ached at the cold distance he had built between us.
When the clock finally struck five, I gathered my things and walked out of the office, feeling heavier than when I had arrived. I needed to breathe, to talk, to make sense of everything. So I called Cammie and asked her to meet me at our favorite place. To my surprise, she agreed.
We met at the small café where we used to spend hours laughing about nonsense. But that night, the laughter was gone. The moment we sat down, I asked what had been haunting me since the night of the full moon.
"Are you a werewolf?" I asked coldly. There were no greetings, no smiles, only a quiet wall between us that neither of us tried to cross.
"Yes," she said simply, without hesitation.
Her calmness unsettled me. I stared at her, searching her eyes for any sign of regret. "Did you become my friend because of Marco?"
"No," she replied. "The council asked me to. Not Marco."
Her words made my brows knit together. "The council?" I repeated slowly, struggling to process it.
She nodded. "He wasn't interested in you, Lara. He didn't want you to be his mate."
The words hit me harder than I expected. I felt my throat tighten as I looked at her, my chest burning with a mix of anger and heartbreak.
"I trusted you, Cammie. I thought we were friends," I said, my voice trembling.
Her eyes softened. "I am still your best friend, Lara. I am sorry. I wanted to tell you everything, but I couldn't. I wasn't allowed to. Unless Marco tells you the truth, my hands are tied. I already faced punishment for breaking the rule of befriending you. My only assignment was to protect you."
"It was my own choice to be friends with you. It wasn't because they asked me to," she added quietly.
Her voice was sincere, but the damage had already been done. I sat there, staring at her across the small wooden table, feeling a hollow ache form in my chest. Everything I believed about our friendship might have been built on lies. I wanted to believe her, but something inside me had cracked too deeply to ever be the same again.
For the first time that night, I wondered if I ever truly knew anyone at all.
I loved Cammie. She had been the one person I trusted completely. Even when she confessed that she was a werewolf, I refused to believe it. It sounded ridiculous, something straight out of an old story told around a campfire. I convinced myself that maybe Marco's company was running some kind of underground operation, and the whole werewolf thing was just an excuse, a cover for something else.
Cammie insisted on driving me home, but I refused. I told her I needed time to think, then left the café and took the bus instead. The city lights blurred past the window, and my mind refused to settle. I replayed every conversation we had ever shared, every secret, every laugh, wondering which moments had been real and which had been part of her "assignment."
When I got off the bus, the street was almost empty. A thin fog was beginning to settle, curling around the streetlights. The silence made every sound louder, the chirp of crickets, the echo of my own footsteps, the faint rustle of leaves behind me. That was when I felt someone was following me.
At first, I tried to ignore it, but the feeling grew stronger with every step. My heart began to pound as I glanced over my shoulder, but there was nothing there, only the dark outline of trees and the faint shimmer of light from a nearby post. I quickened my pace, clutching my bag tightly against my chest. When the sound of footsteps echoed behind me, I broke into a run.
Then, I saw a gray wolf stepping out from between the trees, its golden eyes glinting in the dim light. It moved with a slow, deliberate grace, its gaze locked on me. My breath caught in my throat as I stumbled backward, my heart hammering against my ribs. This couldn't be happening. Wolves didn't roam the streets. They belonged in the mountains, far away from people, far away from me.
The wolf let out a low growl, the sound vibrating through the silence. Its teeth gleamed as it stepped closer, each movement cautious but full of intent. I tried to back away, but my heel hit the edge of the pavement, and I almost fell. Panic rushed through me.
"Stay back," I whispered, though my voice was barely audible.
The gray wolf's lips curled, and before I could react, it lunged. I screamed and threw my arm up to shield myself. Pain seared through my skin as its claws caught my arm, leaving a long, burning scratch. The shock of it tore another scream from my throat. I fell hard onto the ground, my palms scraping the rough cement. The wolf hovered above me, its hot breath hitting my face, its eyes glowing brighter as it prepared to strike again.
Terror flooded me. This was it. It was going to kill me. Then a deep, thunderous growl ripped through the night.
From the shadows, a larger wolf emerged, its fur black as midnight and its eyes burning with a crimson light that seemed to cut through the darkness. The sound it made shook the air, commanding and furious. The gray wolf snarled back, but the moment the black wolf took another step forward, it faltered. The dominance between them was clear.
The two wolves circled each other, the tension in the air so thick it felt like it could break. The gray wolf bared its teeth but then lowered its head, backing away slowly until it disappeared into the trees.
The black wolf turned toward me. I pressed my wounded arm against my chest, shaking uncontrollably. For a moment, I thought it would attack too, but instead, it stepped closer and stopped just a few feet away. Its red eyes were still glowing, but there was something different in its gaze, something protective.
I didn't move. I couldn't. The wolf stared at me for a long, breathless moment, its chest rising and falling heavily. Then, without a sound, it turned away and vanished into the night.
I stayed where I was, trembling, clutching my bleeding arm. The street was silent again, but the echo of that growl still rang in my ears. My mind tried to make sense of what had just happened, but nothing about it felt real.
Still, one thing I knew for certain, the black wolf hadn't come to hurt me. It had saved me.
And even as I tried to convince myself it was only a nightmare, I could still feel its gaze on me, watching from somewhere in the dark.