Monday
10:12 AM
Third Person POV
News in a small town spreads fast, and the same happened with the unknown man.
Whispers filled the café as the man kept flirting with the innocent baker, while Matt stood behind the counter, clearly fuming.
"Sorry, but I have to get back to work now. Your fritter costs 1 dun and 55 kits," the girl said, looking around and noticing how many people were inside the bakery.
The man gave her the money — the same money he had stolen on his way there — without anyone noticing.
She gave him a polite smile and walked away quickly, not seeing how the already love-struck man almost fell to his knees just from her smile.
"What did he want?"
Y/N jumped at Matt's sudden question. His voice was strangely cold.
"Oh, he just asked for some recommendations about places to visit, and we ended up chatting a bit. Don't worry, I'm back now," she said with a cheerful smile.
"Good. And don't go talking to strangers like that. Be careful of him."
Y/N only nodded, a little unsure. She did like the strange man, but she trusted her close friend.
Even though they were whispering, the beast's wolf senses still caught their words. He could tell the boy didn't like him — and the feeling was mutual. I hope I don't have to kill you, I don't want blood, he thought as he left the bakery, careful not to stay too long and seem suspicious.
He walked around the small town to see what was there. People gave him strange looks. That was the problem with his mate living in a small town — everyone was curious about a newcomer, so he would have to meet a lot of people.
Before he walked away, he glanced back at the bakery and saw the opening hours on a small wooden sign:
8:00 AM – 4:30 PM
Closed on Sundays.
Hispeople didn't really use numbers to tell time. They just looked at the sun to know what part of the day it was. So he didn't really understand the hours written on the sign — but he hoped it would be soon.
Asking the townspeople would only make them more suspicious of him. They use those big things… uh, clocks, right? Is that what they're called? he thought, confused. Ugh, I don't know. Maybe I can find one to help me.
Desperate to know the time — so he could figure outDesperate to know the time — so he could figure out when to see his baby again — he walked around quickly. Then he stopped when he saw a huge clock on top of a building.when to see his baby again — he walked around quickly. Then he stopped when he saw a huge clock on top of a building.
The small hand was on the X, and the band the big one was just past the II, almost at the The small hand was on the X, and the band the big one was just past the II, almost at the III.
"What the hell?! That doesn't help me at all! I thought they used numbers!"
Not understanding the strange symbols, he decided to visit the bar his baby had mentioned — just to pass the time.
His parents had told him about such places before. They sell all kinds of alcohol, and people usually get drunk there. He had never seen a drunk person before, so he didn't really know what it meant.
Living as a rogue his whole life meant he didn't really understand how normal people lived. But unlike most rogues, he could read — and he was thankful for that, since it helped him survive.
When he walked into the bar, his wolf senses were instantly hit by the strong smell of alcohol. It was so heavy that he coughed a little. Still, he decided to give the place a try since he had nothing better to do.
He sat down and looked at the wall filled with words. The first thing that caught his eye was "Whiskey", so he decided to try that.
The bartender looked at him for a few seconds, clearly confused, but then handed him his drink.
He saw the two small glasses and decided to drink each one in a single gulp. The liquid burned his throat, but he kind of liked the feeling.
Looking around the bar, he noticed there weren't many people — and the few who were there looked strange and unfocused. He didn't want to end up like them, so he ordered only two more.
But since this was his first time drinking alcohol, he didn't know that four shots were already enough to make him quite drunk.
After finishing, he left the bar. He looked up at the big clock again — the big hand had passed the V, but the small one was still on the X.
He felt dizzy and tired as he wandered back toward the bakery. He didn't understand what was happening to his body, but the moment he looked inside, a bit of his sober mind returned.
He saw a customer purposely spill their drink, making his baby slip on the wet floor. Matt, who was nearby, quickly caught her before she could fall.
The beast froze, his heart pounding hard. The way Matt held her — the way she looked at him — made something dark twist inside his chest.
A low growl almost slipped from his throat. No one touches what's mine.
He saw the boy quietly hand money to the customer while Y/N was still in his arms. A low growl rolled in his chest.
I'll kill them both—the thought burned hot. That customer and that bratty boy. I'll make them pay. She's mine, not yours, you little fool!
Rage flooded him, but a piece of his clear mind reminded him that if he attacked now, his baby would be terrified. He did not want to scare her.
When no one was watching, he bolted into the forest. He shifted into his beast form and ran between the trees, trying to force the anger down. Still, the beast inside him demanded blood—he felt certain the only way to calm it was to hurt those men, and soon.