Chapter 3

ELLA

“Just tell me what’s next.” I mutter under my breath walking behind him.

I follow a step behind him, moving carefully so I don’t disturb the sleeping child curled against my chest.

Every instinct I have is on edge. I’m walking deeper into the house of the same man who watched me be humiliated without intervening, an Alpha, apparently leading me through his home like this is normal, like this isn’t completely insane.

His scent reaches me showing how close we are.

Cold air and pine, sharp and clean, mixed with something untamed beneath it. 

Even with my suppressants, it slips under my skin, sending a shiver down my spine. My wolf stirs faintly, restless, responding to power; she shouldn’t  be able to sense.

I fidget as we walk.

I never wanted this. Never wanted anyone to know what I am, let alone someone who already knows me from school. Someone with authority. Someone dangerous.

Being a lone wolf is the worst possible position to be in. No pack. No protection. No one to back me up should things go wrong. 

Rogues don’t get mercy, they get hunted down. Sometimes I think it would have been easier if I’d just been human.

“I didn’t know you applied,” he says eventually, breaking the silence.

“I didn’t know the job was yours,” I respond. 

“The listing didn't go far I never expected…..” he pauses for few seconds,

“If I’d known 

“You would’ve rejected me immediately,” I say without hesitation.

His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t deny it.

Mrs. Chen appears with a tray of tea, placing it on the table between us. She smiles softly at Sophie, who’s still sleeping peacefully, then leaves without a word.

The tea remains untouched.

“This is ridiculous,” Jax mutters, rubbing his hand through his hair in frustration. 

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“Then I’ll go.” I move carefully, preparing to stand without waking Sophie.

“Wait.” He exhales sharply. “Just… give me a minute to think.” 

So I sit back down.

He keeps looking at Sophie at the way she sleeps curled against me, calm and relaxed, like she belongs there. The sight clearly unsettles him.

“Why did you apply?” he asks suddenly.

The question catches me off guard. 

“Because I need the money.”

“For what?”

I hesitate. “Does that really matter?”

“It does if you’re going to be around my daughter.”

I swallow hard. “My mom is sick. She has Lupus. The hospital bills are drowning me. I work three jobs and it’s still not enough. Then yesterday happened. Your… gang and girlfriend ruined my laptop. And my medication.” I stop myself before I end up saying too much. 

Guilt flickers briefly across his face.

“Vanessa isn’t my girlfriend,” he says quietly.

I laugh, my laughter humorless. “That’s funny. She didn’t look like just a friend while she was filming my humiliation in your arms.”

“It’s complicated.”

“I’m sure it is.” I shift again. “Look, this isn’t going to work. I don’t like you. You don’t trust me. And I’m not putting Sophie in the middle of that. I’ll leave before she wakes up.”

“What if I don’t want you to?”

I blink. “What?”

“What if I hired you?” he says evenly. “One-week trial. You stay in the guest cottage. You take care of Sophie. Nothing else.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“She hasn’t slept in almost three days,” he says. “You walked in and she was out in minutes. I don’t understand it, but I can’t ignore it.”

“And school?”

“What happens at school stays there. This is about my daughter.”

“You expect me to just forget everything?”

“I expect professionalism,” he replies. “You take care of Sophie during the day. You have your own space. We'll have minimal interaction.”

I gaze at him for a long time. “I want double the salary.”

His brow lifts. “Are you trying to rip me off?”

“No,” I say calmly. “I’m negotiating.”

“Seventy-five hundred a month,” Jax says after a moment. “That’s the highest I’ll go. Room and board included.”

My breath freezes.

That number echoes in my head, louder than anything else he’s said so far. It’s more money than I’ve ever made in my life. Enough to cover my mom’s treatments. Enough to replace my medication. Enough to get my life in order.

“But,” he continues, “ you'll sign a non-disclosure agreement. My private life stays private. What happens in this house doesn’t leave it.”

I don’t hesitate. “Agreed.”

I shift Sophie slightly before extending my hand for a hand shake. Jax looks at it for a second longer than he should before taking it.

The contact is brief and startling.

The moment our skin touches, something sharp and electric flashes between us. I gasp softly, and he pulls back just as fast, his expression tightening like he felt it too.

Neither of us says anything.

“When do I start?” I ask, forcing my voice to stay calm.

“Now.” He turns away. “Mrs. Chen will show you around. I need to make a few calls.”

Almost immediately, Mrs. Chen appears, as if she’d been waiting just outside the room. “Come along, dear,” she says kindly.

She leads me through the house. 

The library is so massive and beautiful it makes my heart ache with longing.

“Sophie is almost four,” Mrs. Chen explains as we walk. “Her mother passed away when she was very young. Mr. Steele has been raising her alone.”

I glance down at Sophie’s sleeping face. “He seems… overwhelmed.”

She sighs softly. “He is. Between hockey, university, and the family business, it’s too much for one person to handle.” 

“Why did the other nannies leave?” I ask quietly.

Mrs. Chen hesitates. “Sophie has severe separation anxiety. She screams for hours. Refuses to eat. Won’t sleep. She lost her mother before she could enjoy her warmth, and now she’s terrified of losing anyone else.”

That explains more than I want it to.

The guest cottage comes into view, and I almost laugh. Cottage is an understatement. It’s larger than any apartment I’ve ever lived in.

Sophie moves in my arms as we approach. Her lashes flutter open, confusion flickering briefly across her face. Then she sees me and smiles.

“Ella,” she calls out clearly.

Mrs. Chen freezes. “She knows your name?”

“I… she must’ve heard it earlier,” I say, though it doesn’t quite explain how she said it so perfectly.

The inside of the cottage is spotless and modern. A full kitchen. A bedroom with an ensuite bathroom. A living area with a fireplace. It feels unreal, like I’m walking through someone else’s life.

“Sophie sleeps in the main house,” Mrs. Chen adds. “There’s a connecting guest bedroom. You’ll need to stay there at night.”

She hands me a printed schedule. It’s rigid. Exact times for waking, meals, activities, learning, exercise, quiet time.

“This is… intense,” I murmur.

“Mr. Steele believes in structure,” she says diplomatically.

Sophie spends the rest of the afternoon glued to me. I carry her while Mrs. Chen explains where everything is. She chats nonstop in toddler sentences, pointing out toys and telling stories I barely understand but listen to anyway.

She’s bright. Observant. And painfully starved for attention.

At six, I make her dinner egg fried rice and apple slices. She eats without complaint.

Bath time turns into game time. Water everywhere. Both of us are dripping and laughing.

I dress her in pajamas covered in tiny wolves.

“Doggie,” she says proudly.

“Close,” I murmur.

After story time, her breathing evens out halfway through the third book. I sit there long after she falls asleep, just watching her chest rise and fall.

She looks peaceful now. Nothing like the exhausted, crying child from earlier.

Eventually, I lay her in her crib and slip into the connecting bedroom.

I’m exhausted physically and emotionally. It’s only eight, but it feels like I’ve lived several days in one.

I reach for the baby monitor.

And then pain explodes in my chest.

The pain comes out of nowhere.

It’s sharp and sudden, stabbing straight through my chest like something is trying to tear its way out. 

Not now.

Not here.

I lean against the dresser, forcing myself to breathe slowly, carefully. My suppressants are failing faster than I expected. The stress from the fountain. The fear. The emotional stair of today it’s all crashing together, pushing my wolf closer to the surface.

Another surge of pain ripples through me, this time spreading down my arms.

My hands start to shake.

I stare at them in horror as my fingers tremble, nails darkening, lengthening before my eyes. My pulse roars in my ears.

I stumble into the bathroom and lock the door behind me.

My wolf is waking up.

I grip the sink, knuckles whitening as I fight to stay upright. I’ve never shifted before, not once. My father died before he could teach me how to control it. My mother doesn’t even know this part of me exists. For fifteen years, I’ve buried my wolf beneath pills and fear, terrified of what she is… of what I am.

And now I’m in the home of an Alpha.

My wolf reacts to him like a moth to a flame, feeding off his presence, his power, his scent. 

She’s stronger here now. Desperate to surface.

The pain intensifies.

It radiates from my chest through my limbs, bones aching as if they’re trying to rearrange themselves.

I bite down on my fist to keep from screaming, but a broken sound slips out anyway.

Footsteps echo in the hallway.

My heart lurches.

“Ella?” Jax’s voice comes through the door. “Is everything okay?”

Panic surges. I splash cold water onto my face, gripping the sink harder as I try to force my wolf back down.

“I’m fine!” I shout, my voice a little too sharp.

There’s a pause.

Then, “Open the door.”

“I’m using the bathroom. Give me a minute.”

My hands are shaking too badly to do anything. I knock the soap dispenser off the counter, and it shatters against the tile with a loud crash.

“Ella,” Jax says, voice suddenly hard. 

“Open the door. Now.”

I lift my head and look at my reflection in the mirror.

My eyes are no longer brown.

They’re gold.

My canines have lengthened, pressing painfully against my lower lip. Dark claws are forming where my nails should be. There’s no hiding this. No pretending it’s nothing.

Terror floods my chest.

I can’t let him see me like this.

I can’t let an Alpha see a rogue losing control.

My breathing turns ragged as another wave of pain hits, stronger than before. My knees buckle, and I barely manage to stay upright by clutching the edge of the sink.

The door handle rattles.

“Ella,” he calls again, closer now. “What’s going on?”

I try to speak, but my voice cracks. My wolf surges, furious and frightened, clawing at the restraints I’ve built around her for years.

The handle turns.

The lock clicks.

Time slows.

I press my palm flat against the mirror, staring at the stranger looking back at me gold-eyed, trembling, barely human anymore.

This is it.

The moment I’ve spent my entire life running from.

The door begins to open.

And I know, with absolute certainty, that once Jax Steele sees what I am….. 

Nothing will ever be the same again.