Chapter 3: the alphas burden
The diner's hum faded into the background as Ava struggled to process his words. Werewolves. Rogues. And him—this enigmatic man who wasn't entirely human. It was overwhelming, yet she couldn't shake it off. The image of those glowing eyes and the monstrous figure outside the diner was etched in her memory.
"Okay," Ava started, her voice quivering slightly, "let's say I believe you. Werewolves are real. You're one of them. Why were you here last night? And why was that creature after me?"
His golden eyes softened, a flicker of regret crossing his face. "It wasn't after you," he replied softly. "It was after me."
Ava blinked in confusion. "What?"
"Rogues are attracted to power," he clarified. "And no matter how hard I try to stay away from them, they always manage to find me."
"Power?" she repeated. "What kind of power?"
He paused, his jaw tightening. "I'm an alpha."
The word hung between them, heavy with meaning that Ava didn't quite grasp. She frowned. "Alpha? Like…the leader of a pack?"
He nodded. "The strongest. The one they either follow…or try to take down."
"So you're saying that thing came here because of you?"
"Yes."
"And it attacked me just because I was near you?"
His gaze hardened. "That's why I told you to stay inside. It wasn't meant to involve you."
Ava crossed her arms, frustration bubbling up. "Well, it did involve me. And now you're sitting here, telling me all this as if I'm just supposed to go back to my normal life and pretend it never happened."
"That's exactly what you should do," he said firmly.
"Why? So you can keep running from whatever trouble you've got chasing you?"
His expression darkened, and for a moment, Ava thought she'd gone too far. But instead of snapping back, he leaned closer, his voice low and edged with a warning.
"You don't realize what you're stepping into, Ava. My world is anything but safe. It's dangerous, ruthless, and it will consume you if you're not careful."
"Maybe," she replied, standing her ground. "But it looks to me like you could use some assistance."
A brief look of surprise flashed across his face, quickly replaced by his usual calm demeanor. "You're brave," he said quietly, almost to himself. "Or maybe just reckless."
"Call it what you want," Ava shot back, lifting her chin defiantly. "But I'm not backing down. Not until I uncover the whole truth."
For the first time, a genuine smile appeared at the corners of his lips, though it carried a hint of sadness. "You're persistent," he remarked.
"It helps me get through life," she shrugged.
He studied her intently for a long moment, as if considering his next move. Finally, he reached out his hand.
"Damien," he introduced himself.
Ava looked at his hand, then back at him. "Damien? That's your name?"
"It's as good as any," he replied with a smirk.
After a brief hesitation, she took his hand. His grip was firm, and his skin felt warm against the cool night air.
"Well, Damien," she said, locking eyes with him. "You have a lot to explain."
---
The next hour flew by in a whirlwind of revelations. Over steaming cups of coffee, Damien unveiled parts of his world—how werewolves lived in secrecy, organized in packs governed by ancient laws. Alphas were the backbone of these packs, tasked with maintaining order and safeguarding their members. But Damien's pack had been wiped out in a vicious attack years ago. Since then, he had been a solitary figure, an outlier in a society that thrived on community.
"Being an alpha without a pack is a death sentence," he confessed, his voice laced with bitterness. "Rogues see it as a chance to challenge me. Other packs view me as a threat."
"So you're just…running?" Ava asked gently.
"It's not running," he replied, his tone sharp. "It's surviving."
Ava nodded, feeling the weight of his words. "And now?"
"Now, I handle rogues when they show up and move on before anyone else gets hurt."
The unspoken tension lingered in the air. He was already plotting his escape from Red Hollow, intending to disappear before his presence attracted more danger.
"But you don't have to face this alone," Ava said.
Damien shook his head. "You don't get it. My life isn't just risky—it's cursed. People who get too close to me… they don't stick around."
Ava felt a tightness in her chest at the weight of his words, but she refused to let fear control her. "Maybe they didn't stick around because they weren't stubborn enough," she said, offering a small smile.
Damien's expression softened, a flicker of something she couldn't quite identify—hope, maybe?
"You're playing with fire, Ava," he cautioned.
"Good thing I've always loved fireworks," she shot back.
For the first time, Damien laughed—a deep, rich sound that filled her with warmth.
"You're something else," he said, shaking his head in disbelief.
Ava beamed. "I'll take that as a compliment."
For now, the diner felt like a delicate b
ubble of tranquility. But outside, the shadows loomed, and they both knew it wouldn't last.