Chapter 5: A Strange Connection

The library doors clicked shut behind Lincoln, leaving me alone in the dimly lit room. The fire crackled softly in the hearth, its warmth doing little to chase away the chill that had settled in my chest.

This place was too big, too cold, and far too confusing. Nothing about tonight made sense—not the auction, not Lincoln’s cryptic words, and certainly not the hostility from his so-called Beta. And now, I was sitting here, trying to piece together a puzzle when half the pieces were missing.

I glanced around the room, taking in the rows of ancient books and the faint scent of leather and smoke. Everything about this place screamed wealth and history, yet it felt oddly detached, as though it existed in its own bubble.

My mind wandered back to Lincoln’s words. “This life… it’s about to become yours.” What life? And why me?

I ran my fingers over the armrest of the chair, my nails scraping lightly against the smooth leather. Anxiety clawed at me, a relentless beast I couldn’t shake. I didn’t belong here. I didn’t belong with him.

Yet, despite the fear and confusion, a small part of me—a part I didn’t want to admit existed—was drawn to him. It wasn’t just his looks, though those were hard to ignore. It was the way he carried himself, the quiet strength that seemed to radiate from him. He was dangerous, yes, but he also felt… safe. And that contradiction terrified me.

The sound of muffled voices broke through my thoughts. I couldn’t make out the words, but Lincoln’s deep, commanding tone was unmistakable. Whoever he was speaking to didn’t seem happy. Their voices rose and fell in a heated exchange, each word laced with tension.

Curiosity got the better of me. Rising from my chair, I crept toward the door, careful not to make a sound. Pressing my ear against the wood, I strained to hear.

“...not your decision, Jake,” Lincoln growled, his voice low but filled with barely restrained anger. “I’ve made my choice.”

“And it’s the wrong one,” Jake shot back. “You’re letting emotions cloud your judgment.”

There was a pause, heavy with unspoken words. When Lincoln spoke again, his voice was quieter, but no less intense. “You don’t understand.”

“Then make me understand,” Jake demanded. “Because from where I’m standing, this looks like a mistake.”

The air seemed to grow heavier, even through the door. I could almost feel Lincoln’s frustration, his anger just below the surface. But there was something else there, too—something softer, more vulnerable. His impatience.

I pulled back, my heart racing. Whatever was happening out there, it wasn’t just about me. There was something bigger at play, something I couldn’t see yet. And it scared me. How was I able to read his emotions like that?

I turned away from the door, trying to steady my breathing. That’s when it hit me—a dull, throbbing ache in my chest. At first, I thought it was just anxiety, but it didn’t feel right. It wasn’t sharp, like a heart attack, but it was insistent, pulsing in time with my heartbeat.

I pressed a hand to my chest, frowning. “What the hell…?”

The ache deepened, spreading outwards until it felt like my entire body was racked with an unusual energy. My knees wobbled, and I grabbed onto the edge of a nearby table for support.

“Get it together,” I muttered to myself, but my voice sounded distant, like it was coming from somewhere far away.

The room swayed around me, the edges of my vision blurring. Panic set in as the ache turned into something sharper, more intense. It wasn’t just physical—it felt like something inside me was twisting. This had never happened before.

I stumbled toward the door, desperate for help. But before I could reach it, my legs gave out, and I crumpled to the floor. The world swayed violently, and all I could focus on was the pain.

Through the haze, I heard the door fly open. Heavy footsteps approached, and then Lincoln was there, kneeling beside me. His hands were on my shoulders, his touch steadying but electric, like a jolt of energy passing between us.

“Jane!” His voice was sharp, cutting through the cloud. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t…” I gasped, clutching at my chest. “It hurts…”

His eyes darkened, worry etched into his features. “Where?”

“My heart,” I choked out. “I don’t know what’s happening.”

For a moment, his mask slipped, and I saw something raw in his expression—fear, yes, but also something deeper. Protectiveness. Maybe even guilt.

“Damn it,” he muttered under his breath, his jaw tightening. “This shouldn’t be happening. Not yet.”

“Not yet?” I managed to croak. “What… what do you mean?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he scooped me up in his arms as though I weighed nothing. His scent—clean and woodsy with a hint of spice—washed over me, oddly comforting despite the confusion.

“Hold on,” he murmured, his voice softer now. “Just hold on.”

I wanted to ask what he meant, to demand answers, but the words wouldn’t come. My head lolled against his chest, and the rhythmic thud of his heartbeat filled my ears. It was steady, strong, holding me even as the rest of the world fell away.

The last thing I saw before darkness claimed me was Lincoln’s face, his eyes burning with an intensity that sent a shiver through me. It wasn’t just worry or anger. It was something more. Something I couldn’t name.

And then, everything went black