The morning sun poured through the cracked window, waking me before the alarm did. My body ached from the night before — from the long walk home, from the cold, and mostly from the memory of him.
Jason.
Even just thinking his name made my chest feel tight. The way he stood there, calm but dangerous, his eyes glowing faintly when he faced those bullies... I hated how my heart had jumped. I hated that I still felt something.
I pushed the thought away and forced myself out of bed.
I had to focus.
Work. That was all that mattered.
The pizza shop was already busy when I got there. The ovens were blazing, the smell of cheese and smoke filled the air. My boss, Mr. Davis, was pacing behind the counter, yelling orders like always.
> "Aria, you're late again!" he snapped when he saw me.
"I'm sorry, sir," I said quickly. "There was traffic—"
> "Excuses," he cut me off. "You think I don't have other workers who need this job?"
My heart dropped. "Please, I need this—"
He sighed, rubbing his face. "You've been distracted lately. Messed up two orders yesterday. You're lucky I didn't fire you already."
I swallowed hard and nodded, keeping my eyes on the floor.
If I lost this job, I had nothing. No home, no food, no reason to keep going.
I tied my apron and got to work, trying to stay invisible, trying not to make another mistake. But my hands were still shaking, and my head kept replaying last night — Jason's voice, his eyes, the way he said no one touches what's mine.
Why did those words still echo in me? Why did part of me want to believe them?
By afternoon, I was exhausted. My clothes smelled like burnt dough, and my hair stuck to my neck. I was packing an order when I felt someone's eyes on me.
I looked up.
Jason was standing outside the shop.
My breath caught. He was in a black shirt, sleeves rolled up, hands in his pockets. He looked so out of place here — too clean, too powerful, too him.
What was he doing here?
I looked away quickly, pretending not to see him, but my hands betrayed me — the box slipped, and the pizza hit the floor.
> "Aria!" Mr. Davis shouted. "That's the third mistake this week!"
"I— I'm sorry, sir," I stammered, bending to clean up.
> "You're done," he said coldly. "Take off the apron. You're fired."
The world around me went silent.
Fired.
My hands froze around the box. My throat burned. "Please, sir, don't—"
> "You've had too many chances. Get out."
I turned toward the door, and my eyes met Jason's again. He was still there, watching everything through the glass.
For a second, I saw something in his expression — anger, then regret, then something else I couldn't name.
He started walking toward the door.
My chest tightened. No, no, no—
He can't see me like this. Not broken. Not begging.
But it was too late. The doorbell rang as he pushed it open, his tall frame filling the space.
Everyone in the shop turned to stare.
Mr. Davis blinked in confusion. "Sir, we're closed for—"
Jason's voice was calm but sharp as steel.
> "You're not closing yet," he said. "Not until we talk."
My heart pounded. What was he doing?
The air grew tense, quiet, heavy with his Alpha presence. Even among humans, that kind of power couldn't be hidden.
He looked at me once — just once — and I could see it in his eyes.
He wasn't leaving without me.
And that's when I realized…
I wasn't sure I wanted him to.