ZALE'S POV;
The night had been long, dragging on like a relentless storm I couldn't escape. I had returned to my office, seeking the solitude it provided. It was my refuge, a place where I could think without the weight of the pack pressing in on me. Yet even here, I couldn't escape the thoughts swirling in my mind—thoughts of her. Amora.
I sat in my chair, staring at the stack of papers on my desk, yet unable to focus. My mind kept drifting back to the girl who now lay in one of the guest rooms, a girl whose life I had upended without so much as an explanation. What was it about her that drew me in? Was it the mate bond, that primal, undeniable connection that forced me to care for her in ways I didn't fully understand? Or was there something more?
The faint light of dawn had begun to creep through the windows, painting the office in a soft orange hue, when Wilder knocked on the door. His presence was always calm, reliable. My Beta, my closest confidant. But even before he opened his mouth, I knew there was something weighing on him.
"Alpha," Wilder started, his voice low but steady. "I have information about Amora."
Instantly, my focus snapped to him, my chest tightening with an unknown fear. "What is it?" I asked, trying to keep my voice even, though I could feel the tension bubbling beneath the surface.
Wilder stepped closer, his eyes meeting mine with that familiar look of seriousness. "There's no police case about Amora's disappearance."
That gave me pause. No police case? That didn't make sense. A girl goes missing, and no one reports it? Something wasn't adding up, and I could see in Wilder's expression that there was more.
"There's one more thing," he continued. "Her father... he's disappeared as well. He hasn't been seen since that night."
My brow furrowed at his words, the pieces of this strange puzzle clicking together in a way that left me more unsettled than before. Amora's father disappeared? After what had happened that night, after I'd taken her away from that life, her father had vanished? That couldn't be a coincidence.
"That's strange," I muttered, my mind already racing with the possibilities. "I want you to search for him, Wilder. I don't care how long it takes—find out where he's gone."
Wilder gave a firm nod, but there was something else in his eyes, something he hadn't yet said. I could sense it, the hesitation in the way he stood, like he was debating whether or not to speak.
"But?" I prompted, my voice carrying an edge of impatience.
Wilder shifted slightly, his gaze flickering for a brief moment before he met my eyes again. "There's a girl looking for Amora. Her name is Hale—she's the Luna's friend."
That piece of information struck a chord within me. I had hoped to keep Amora's presence here quiet, at least until I had more answers, but now there was someone actively searching for her. Someone close to her.
"What does she want?" I asked, though the answer was already clear.
"She's worried. It seems she and Amora were close. She's trying to find her."
For a moment, I let the silence hang between us, my mind working through the implications.
"Send a letter," I said finally, my decision swift and decisive. "On Amora's behalf. Tell her friend that she's fine, and that she shouldn't bother looking for her."
Wilder gave a nod of understanding, though I could see the faint trace of surprise in his eyes. It wasn't often that I used deception, but this situation called for control. I needed time, space to understand what Amora's presence in my life truly meant, and I couldn't afford distractions right now.
"There's something else," Wilder added, shifting his weight. "Her half-sister... she's living with her boyfriend."
That caught me off guard. I hadn't known about a half-sister, and the fact that she was out of the picture, living with someone else, only deepened the mystery surrounding Amora's life. How much had I not known about the girl I had taken under my protection? Her father was gone, her sister estranged—it was as if she had been cut off from the world, left alone to fend for herself. A part of me burned with frustration at the thought of how she had been neglected, but I kept my composure.
"I didn't know about that," I muttered, mostly to myself. "Keep tabs on her sister too, just in case."
Wilder gave another nod, but before he could leave, I added, "I'll need to shower. Make sure breakfast is served in my room, and bring something for Amora as well."
It felt strange, this need to consider her. But I couldn't shake the feeling of responsibility that gnawed at me, even if I wanted to blame it on the mate bond. A bond that had been forced upon me without my choice.
I stretched my muscles as I stood up, feeling the creak of my joints and the stiffness of the night. I hadn't returned to my room last night; instead, I had chosen to sleep—or more accurately, think—alone in my office. Amora remained in my personal space, in my room. I knew better than to push her boundaries further. She had been through enough, and I didn't want to increase her discomfort. That's why I had taken the opportunity to shower in one of my private guest rooms. It was a minor gesture, but one I hoped would help her relax a little.
I couldn't shake the memory of finding her—bruised and broken, a desperate cry for help masked by her stubborn pride. That quiet strength and resilience had struck a chord in me. Now, as I entered my room again, I was reminded of why I couldn't just let her go.
Amora was there, brushing her hair with a serene grace that seemed almost out of place given her recent ordeal. I paused in the doorway, taking in the sight of her. In the morning light, she looked different—her features softened, yet no less striking. She radiated a quiet beauty that stirred something within me, something I wasn't prepared to face.
I entered the room quietly, making sure my footsteps were soft but purposeful. Amora's back was turned, her delicate movements a stark contrast to the turmoil she had faced. For a moment, I hesitated, unsure of how to approach her.
When she must have sensed my presence, she stopped and turned, her eyes meeting mine. Her greeting was polite but carried a warmth that hadn't been there before.
"Good morning," she said, her voice gentle and cautious.
I responded with a curt nod, maintaining my neutral expression. It was safer that way. "Breakfast will be here shortly. After that, we have something important to discuss."
Amora's curiosity was evident, but she remained wary. "Are we eating together?"
"Yes," I replied simply, keeping my gaze steady.
I noticed a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes, a hint of apprehension, but she didn't protest. Instead, she nodded and turned back to finish brushing her hair.
As I watched her, I felt an unfamiliar pull—a strange connection that I had no intention of exploring. It wasn't about emotions; it was the mate bond, a biological connection tugging at me and making me feel things I shouldn't. Despite my best efforts to stay detached, I couldn't help but admire her quiet strength. She had endured so much, yet she carried herself with a dignity that was impossible to ignore.
When Amora finished brushing her hair, she turned back to me, her eyes searching for answers I wasn't sure I had.
"Why me?" she had asked the night before.
I had given her the simplest answer I could, without revealing too much. The truth was, even I wasn't entirely sure why I cared so deeply. Her scars—both visible and hidden—troubled me more than they should. Her presence in my life felt like more than just another responsibility.ZALE'S POV;
The night had been long, dragging on like a relentless storm I couldn't escape. I had returned to my office, seeking the solitude it provided. It was my refuge, a place where I could think without the weight of the pack pressing in on me. Yet even here, I couldn't escape the thoughts swirling in my mind—thoughts of her. Amora.
I sat in my chair, staring at the stack of papers on my desk, yet unable to focus. My mind kept drifting back to the girl who now lay in one of the guest rooms, a girl whose life I had upended without so much as an explanation. What was it about her that drew me in? Was it the mate bond, that primal, undeniable connection that forced me to care for her in ways I didn't fully understand? Or was there something more?
The faint light of dawn had begun to creep through the windows, painting the office in a soft orange hue, when Wilder knocked on the door. His presence was always calm, reliable. My Beta, my closest confidant. But even before he opened his mouth, I knew there was something weighing on him.
"Alpha," Wilder started, his voice low but steady. "I have information about Amora."
Instantly, my focus snapped to him, my chest tightening with an unknown fear. "What is it?" I asked, trying to keep my voice even, though I could feel the tension bubbling beneath the surface.
Wilder stepped closer, his eyes meeting mine with that familiar look of seriousness. "There's no police case about Amora's disappearance."
That gave me pause. No police case? That didn't make sense. A girl goes missing, and no one reports it? Something wasn't adding up, and I could see in Wilder's expression that there was more.
"There's one more thing," he continued. "Her father... he's disappeared as well. He hasn't been seen since that night."
My brow furrowed at his words, the pieces of this strange puzzle clicking together in a way that left me more unsettled than before. Amora's father disappeared? After what had happened that night, after I'd taken her away from that life, her father had vanished? That couldn't be a coincidence.
"That's strange," I muttered, my mind already racing with the possibilities. "I want you to search for him, Wilder. I don't care how long it takes—find out where he's gone."
Wilder gave a firm nod, but there was something else in his eyes, something he hadn't yet said. I could sense it, the hesitation in the way he stood, like he was debating whether or not to speak.
"But?" I prompted, my voice carrying an edge of impatience.
Wilder shifted slightly, his gaze flickering for a brief moment before he met my eyes again. "There's a girl looking for Amora. Her name is Hale—she's the Luna's friend."
That piece of information struck a chord within me. I had hoped to keep Amora's presence here quiet, at least until I had more answers, but now there was someone actively searching for her. Someone close to her.
"What does she want?" I asked, though the answer was already clear.
"She's worried. It seems she and Amora were close. She's trying to find her."
For a moment, I let the silence hang between us, my mind working through the implications.
"Send a letter," I said finally, my decision swift and decisive. "On Amora's behalf. Tell her friend that she's fine, and that she shouldn't bother looking for her."
Wilder gave a nod of understanding, though I could see the faint trace of surprise in his eyes. It wasn't often that I used deception, but this situation called for control. I needed time, space to understand what Amora's presence in my life truly meant, and I couldn't afford distractions right now.
"There's something else," Wilder added, shifting his weight. "Her half-sister... she's living with her boyfriend."
That caught me off guard. I hadn't known about a half-sister, and the fact that she was out of the picture, living with someone else, only deepened the mystery surrounding Amora's life. How much had I not known about the girl I had taken under my protection? Her father was gone, her sister estranged—it was as if she had been cut off from the world, left alone to fend for herself. A part of me burned with frustration at the thought of how she had been neglected, but I kept my composure.
"I didn't know about that," I muttered, mostly to myself. "Keep tabs on her sister too, just in case."
Wilder gave another nod, but before he could leave, I added, "I'll need to shower. Make sure breakfast is served in my room, and bring something for Amora as well."
It felt strange, this need to consider her. But I couldn't shake the feeling of responsibility that gnawed at me, even if I wanted to blame it on the mate bond. A bond that had been forced upon me without my choice.
I stretched my muscles as I stood up, feeling the creak of my joints and the stiffness of the night. I hadn't returned to my room last night; instead, I had chosen to sleep—or more accurately, think—alone in my office. Amora remained in my personal space, in my room. I knew better than to push her boundaries further. She had been through enough, and I didn't want to increase her discomfort. That's why I had taken the opportunity to shower in one of my private guest rooms. It was a minor gesture, but one I hoped would help her relax a little.
I couldn't shake the memory of finding her—bruised and broken, a desperate cry for help masked by her stubborn pride. That quiet strength and resilience had struck a chord in me. Now, as I entered my room again, I was reminded of why I couldn't just let her go.
Amora was there, brushing her hair with a serene grace that seemed almost out of place given her recent ordeal. I paused in the doorway, taking in the sight of her. In the morning light, she looked different—her features softened, yet no less striking. She radiated a quiet beauty that stirred something within me, something I wasn't prepared to face.
I entered the room quietly, making sure my footsteps were soft but purposeful. Amora's back was turned, her delicate movements a stark contrast to the turmoil she had faced. For a moment, I hesitated, unsure of how to approach her.
When she must have sensed my presence, she stopped and turned, her eyes meeting mine. Her greeting was polite but carried a warmth that hadn't been there before.
"Good morning," she said, her voice gentle and cautious.
I responded with a curt nod, maintaining my neutral expression. It was safer that way. "Breakfast will be here shortly. After that, we have something important to discuss."
Amora's curiosity was evident, but she remained wary. "Are we eating together?"
"Yes," I replied simply, keeping my gaze steady.
I noticed a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes, a hint of apprehension, but she didn't protest. Instead, she nodded and turned back to finish brushing her hair.
As I watched her, I felt an unfamiliar pull—a strange connection that I had no intention of exploring. It wasn't about emotions; it was the mate bond, a biological connection tugging at me and making me feel things I shouldn't. Despite my best efforts to stay detached, I couldn't help but admire her quiet strength. She had endured so much, yet she carried herself with a dignity that was impossible to ignore.
When Amora finished brushing her hair, she turned back to me, her eyes searching for answers I wasn't sure I had.
"Why me?" she had asked the night before.
I had given her the simplest answer I could, without revealing too much. The truth was, even I wasn't entirely sure why I cared so deeply. Her scars—both visible and hidden—troubled me more than they should. Her presence in my life felt like more than just another responsibility.