5 YEARS LATER
The chandelier above bathed the room in gold, but it didn't do anything to warm the cold building behind my eyes. I sat rigid on the edge of the leather couch, my jaw tight, claws itching just beneath the surface. My wolf was pacing, furious and restless, and I couldn't quiet him. Not tonight.
The scent in the air stirred something in me. Not a memory but a warning. A pull from the past I had spent years trying to forget.
My grandmother's voice still echoed in my head, crisp and commanding:
"Elliot, you will marry Anastasia Tillman. The Presgrave bloodline will never be diluted by anyone else."
But her words weren't what haunted me.
What haunted me was her.
The girl from that night.
The girl who tasted like sadness and starlight. The one who trembled beneath me while I was too far gone to stop myself. I had been drugged poisoned with something that ripped away control and the beast inside me had surfaced.
All I could remember was her voice. Her trembling breath. The panic in her touch.
I didn't know her name. I never saw her face clearly. But when the fog began to clear, and guilt began to claw through the sickness, I had pressed my watch into her hand my name engraved on the back and stumbled into darkness.
I never forgot how she smelled.
And I never stopped searching.
Five years had passed. I had torn through every lead, every whisper, hunting for even the faintest trace of her. Last week, I finally caught something solid: the watch had resurfaced. It had been listed for sale under a name I didn't recognize.
Too little, too late.
My grandmother had already tightened the noose around my throat, forcing me toward a bond I never asked for. But I had no plans to obey.
The sharp trill of my phone shattered the silence. I snatched it up.
"What?" I growled.
"Alpha, we found her," came the voice on the other end. "The girl who sold the watch her name is Hayley Seymour."
Everything inside me stilled. My wolf snapped awake, fully alert now.
Finally.
"Send me her location," I said, already halfway out the door. "I'm going to her."
I didn't care how many walls I had to tear down, how many packs I had to confront if she was the one, I'd know.
My wolf would know.
The boutique was quiet, the air laced with the scent of lilac and old fabric. Not what I was looking for. But I stepped inside anyway, boots brushing against polished wood as I scanned the space.
I didn't need to see her to feel her presence.
She was behind the counter.
The moment our eyes met, her smile faltered. Her body stiffened.
"Welcome to " she started, but the words died in her throat.
I stared.
She was beautiful, yes. But that wasn't what stopped me. It was the feeling. The way the room seemed to contract. I studied every detail of her face, every flicker of emotion in her eyes.
"Are you looking for something, sir?" she asked, voice trembling just slightly.
"Hayley Seymour?" My voice came out rough, lower than I intended.
She nodded slowly. "Y-Yes. That's me. And you are…?"
I didn't answer right away. Instead, I reached into my coat and pulled out the one thing that tied us together. I placed it on the glass between us.
A silver watch.
"Have you had this all these years?" I asked, my voice heavy with everything that moment meant.
Her eyes widened. She stared at the watch like it might burn her.
"Yes," she said quietly. "The watch… it's mine."
A lie.
My wolf growled, low and cold.
I narrowed my eyes. "Did you go to the Abyss Club five years ago? Were you in Room 808?"
The color drained from her face. I heard her heartbeat skip. That pause small as it was told me everything.
That night. The haze. The pain. The unspoken bond. It had haunted me for years, burrowed deep inside where nothing else could touch it.
But this girl... she didn't smell right.
She didn't feel right.
Something was off.
Her voice, her energy, the way she held herself it didn't match the girl from Room 808. But she was pretending. Lying. As if she believed she could manipulate me, as if I couldn't smell deceit when it was right in front of me.
Finally, I reached into my coat and brought out the watch.
"Keep it."
I placed the watch gently back into her hands. My voice was calm, composed but there was a heaviness behind it I couldn't ignore. Something in my chest had gone tight, like a thread pulled too far.
"Don't try to sell it again," I added. "I owe you for what happened that night. I'll make things right."
The shift in her scent hit me before anything else. Her breath caught, her pulse jumped, and I felt the heat rise in the space between us. My wolf stirred inside me, alert but… conflicted.
"I'm Elliot Presgrave," I said, locking eyes with her. "Don't forget that name."
Her face went pale. It was like a wave of realization crashed over her and knocked all the color out of her skin. Her heartbeat thundered in her chest, loud and uneven.
"Y-You're… Elliot Presgrave?" she whispered, like she couldn't believe the words coming out of her own mouth.
She looked like she was about to collapse.
My assistant, always on cue, stepped forward and offered her a card with my personal contact. "Miss Seymour," he said smoothly. "If you need anything, the young master has arranged for support. Just reach out."
Her hands were shaking as she took the card. Her eyes scanned the gold lettering, and I could see the weight of the name settling on her. A name like mine carries a legacy. Power. Command.
I watched her closely as the realization washed over her.
But something didn't feel right.
Her eyes shifted not with fear, but with calculation. She wasn't overwhelmed. She wasn't confused. She was thinking.
Then, suddenly, she reached for my arm. Her fingers wrapped around my sleeve, gripping tightly.
"You have to take responsibility," she said, voice cracking. Tears welled up in her eyes. "You have no idea what that night did to me. I was broken. Used. Abused."
The word hit hard.
Shame flooded me.
The memories came back like a punch to the stomach my body burning with fever, my vision swimming, and the unbearable weight of knowing I had lost control that night. I hadn't even been able to speak clearly. And the girl… she had never asked for help. She had barely moved. Barely spoken.
But this woman Hayley was holding on.
Her tears felt too smooth. Her voice too rehearsed. My wolf shifted uncomfortably inside me, unsettled by the disconnect between her scent and her words.
Still, I nodded.
"I'll take care of it," I said, voice flat. A promise made from guilt not belief.
My assistant continued, as efficient as ever. "Miss Seymour, the Alpha has arranged for you to stay in one of our private residences. A villa. Everything you need will be taken care of."
Her breath caught again. I saw it in her eyes something quick and sharp flashing there before she looked away.
I didn't stay to figure out what it meant.
"I have things to do," I said, turning toward the door.
Behind me, the boutique door clicked shut.
Later, in the back seat of my car, I leaned my head against the cold leather. The sun had dipped low, casting gold across the windows. The man staring back at me in the glass was every inch what they called me heir, Alpha, leader.
But inside, I was unraveling.
Something wasn't right.
The girl from that night was scared. Innocent. She hadn't begged. She hadn't lied. She hadn't asked for anything, even when I had shattered her world.
Hayley Seymour didn't feel like that girl.
The scent was different. The energy was different. My instincts were screaming now, louder than before. My wolf paced restlessly in the back of my mind, sensing a lie where logic wanted to settle.
I remembered everything from that night. Room 808. My vision swimming. My chest tight with something I didn't understand. I remembered her tears and how helpless I felt. I remembered pressing my watch into her hands one desperate act of apology before the blackout.
That memory had never left me.
It shaped everything.
The guilt kept me from bonding with anyone else. The shame built a wall around me I never let anyone cross. I owed that girl my truth. My protection. Maybe even my life.
But now…
Now I wasn't sure if I'd found her or someone pretending to be her.
I exhaled, slow and tense.
Something was wrong.
And I would find out what.
No matter what it took.