*****
Hailey's POV.
It was a Monday afternoon when our paths crossed.
I sat outside in the clinic park, the sun warm on my skin, my mind elsewhere. I had missed a call from my cousin, and now, as I stared at my phone, tears welled up, bringing with them a flood of old memories.
Years had passed, but the wounds were still raw, as if time had done nothing to heal them.
I didn't answer the call, but it still stirred the ache inside me—an ache born from betrayal by the very people I would have given my life for.
My phone buzzed again, pulling me back to the present. John. He wasn't going to give up. His name flashed on the screen, persistent and unrelenting.
But I had no intention of letting him in. He was the last person I wanted to speak to. Despite being family—from my mother's side—John was, without a doubt, the most irritating werewolf I knew. His presence always seemed to invite trouble. It was better to leave things as they were.
No one knew I lived in B-Town, the quiet little town I had moved to eight years ago. I arrived with nothing but my scars and silence.
I took odd jobs just to get by, eventually scraping together enough to get admitted into nursing school in the next city over.
It hasn't been easy. With no one to help, I also took out loans to cover my tuition and bills, hoping I could pay them off after a year of working. But it's been three years now, and I'm still drowning in debt—rent, food, survival.
Since my wolf side died, I have stopped caring about packs. Father always said a wolf can't survive without a pack, but I was caught between worlds—between my human self and the broken wolf within me.
Buzzzzzz...
It was a text from John. I opened it with no expectations, hardly interested in whatever he had to say.
"I know you're in B-Town," I read aloud, my heart skipping a beat. I shot up from my seat, scanning the area. My eyes darted around the park, searching for any sign of him, but there was no one who resembled him.
It had been years since I'd seen him, but I remembered John well—a red-haired, muscular militant with a few tattoos. Attractive but undeniably irritating.
Another buzz.
"I have an offer you won't resist, cousin. Call me."
An offer? Why would John, of all people, offer me anything? My extended family despised the fact that I was my father's daughter. He had treated them poorly from the start, and they never forgave my mother for marrying him.
My phone began to ring. It wasn't hard to guess who it was—John, of course. He had a way of showing up like a curse, always there to disrupt the little peace I had managed to find.
I swiped to answer, bracing myself as his voice cut through the line, deep and familiar.
"What's up, little rat?"
I gritted my teeth. If anyone was born to annoy me, it was John. He knew my stepmother used to call me "little rat" because of how small I was back then. But I wasn't that girl anymore. I had grown taller, stronger.
"Calm down… don't break your teeth," he chuckled, clearly enjoying himself. I clenched my fist, resisting the urge to hang up. It was just a call, I reminded myself. I had to keep my anger in check.
"Don't hang up either. How are you, dearest cousin?"
"What do you want?" I asked, my voice cold with disdain. I could only hope he wasn't about to ask for money—because I had none to give.
"Don't be so mean. You didn't even respond to my greeting, kiddo," John said, reminding me—again—that he was older than I.
"I want to know why you're calling me out of the blue," I replied. There was no point asking how he found me. As a military officer, tracking me down wouldn't have been difficult.
"Fine. I know you're in B-Town working as a nurse, and I could use your help," John began. "Last night, my boss was shot by some unknown gunmen, and he's seriously injured."
The last I'd heard, John had moved to Texas. "Aren't there any nurses in Texas? It's none of my business if your boss gets shot. Deal with it, John."
After everything I'd been through, I'd learned not to care too much about other people's problems.
There was silence at the other end. I could almost hear him piecing together his next line, as if reading from a script.
A few seconds later, he spoke again. "No, he's not in Texas right now. Could you treat my boss for at least a month, maybe more, until he recovers?"
A month or more? Since when did beggars have choices? My stepmother always said beggars had no choice, and I had lived under her rules long enough to know it was true.
"Please…" His tone shifted, becoming softer. John had always been good at manipulating people, but not me.
"No, I don't want to get my hands dirty. Deal with your own mess, bro." I hung up. John was in trouble, and helping him could only lead to danger.
Still, a pang of guilt settled in my chest. I was a nurse, after all. What kind of nurse refuses to help an injured patient?
If anyone knew pain, it was me. I'd endured it alone, with no one by my side. John's parents had offered to take me away years ago, but my father refused. After that, they never spoke to us again.
My phone buzzed again. This time, I quickly tapped the message open: The fee is fifteen thousand dollars per month.
My eyes widened, and a shock rippled through me, making my body feel weak. I stumbled to the bench and sat down, still processing.
Fifteen thousand dollars? For taking care of one patient? I'd worked for years as a nurse and had never earned anything close to that. If this was a joke, I'd break John's jaw.
Without thinking, I dialed his number, my heart racing as I waited for him to pick up. John must have known about my debts. He dangled that huge amount in front of me, and, as much as I hated to admit it, he had my attention.
"What's up, little rat..." John's voice came through the phone.
"If you call me that again, I'm hanging up," I warned.
"Alright, alright. No need to be so serious, Hailey," he replied. "So, what do you think of my offer?"
I rolled my eyes. "Your offer is... tempting, John. But why so much? Why doesn't he just go to a normal hospital? I want an honest answer."
He sighed before responding. "My boss is a tough guy, and for security reasons, we don't trust anyone right now. Except you. You're wasting time, Hailey. We can even increase the payment if you take the job and do it well."
I froze. Was this really happening?
"So, will you do it?" he asked.
"S-sure… but where is your boss? What's his condition right now?"
"He's in front of your house. I don't know all the details, but he needs your angelic touch."
In front of my house? I was speechless. What else did John know about me? He was like a pest that just kept digging deeper into my life.
"Fine, I'm heading home. Make sure I get my money. Bye." I hung up and hurried to the parking lot. My old Camry sat next to a sleek black Benz, which only made my car look more pathetic, but I didn't care. All I wanted was to get home and start the job.
I sped through the quiet town, grateful for the lack of traffic. In no time, I pulled up in front of the building I shared with another tenant.
Grabbing some files from the back seat, I moved to lock my car when a figure emerged from the backyard.
I froze, my heart pounding. The man who appeared looked like he had stepped out of a nightmare—tall, muscular, but weakened by hours of bleeding.
His broad shoulders sagged, and his jaw, dusted with stubble, only added to his rough, masculine appearance. Sharp cheekbones and full lips would have made him handsome if not for the pale, lifeless hue of his skin, a stark contrast to the dark blood soaking through his torn shirt.
Despite his condition, there was still a spark of defiance in his eyes, a refusal to give in to the darkness creeping over him.
Seeing the bloodstains on his jacket, I realized at once—this was John's boss. What had I gotten myself into?
Without hesitation, I dropped the files and ran to help him.