Chapter 3: The Wolf’s Instinct

Adam's POV

After the woman ran away, the office returned to a dead silence.

I leaned back in my leather chair, staring at the ceiling. My hand moved unconsciously, my fingers grazing my lower lip.

The taste of that woman—Bella—lingered there.

It was faint, smelling of freesias and fear, but beneath that, there was something else. Something that made the wolf inside me, usually dormant and sullen, lift its head and growl low in my chest.

Damn it.

I slammed my hand onto the armrest.

Since that cursed battle three years ago, my life had been a grayscale hell. The witch—the one with the purple eyes—had placed a hex on me before disappearing into the human world.

“You will never find what makes you whole,” she had screamed.

Since then, my sense of smell had been severed. Not for everything, but for the one thing that mattered most to an Alpha: my Fate Mate.

Without a mate, an Alpha’s power is capped. I was strong, yes. I could crush a human skull with one hand. But I wasn't at my peak.

And with rival packs circling my territory like vultures, waiting for a moment of weakness to swallow my pack whole, I needed my full power. I needed my Luna.

But I couldn't find her.

Over the years, countless she-wolves and human women had tried to climb into my bed.

My wolf rejected them all with a physiological revulsion that made me want to vomit.

But that girl... that liar who barged into my territory and forced a kiss on me?

My wolf didn't recoil. He didn't snarl in disgust. Instead, he was pacing inside my mind, restless.

I called my Beta through mind link.

"Lucas. Get in here."

Three seconds later, my Beta and currently disguised as my executive assistant, walked in.

"Alpha."

The image of those wide, terrified eyes flashed in my mind.

"Investigate a woman named Bella," I ordered. "She claims to be from the Genevieve family. I want to know everything about her."

Lucas looked up, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. It was rare for me to take an interest in humans, let alone a specific woman.

"Understood," he said. "Also, Alpha, we have a lead on the witch."

I sat up straight instantly. The languid boredom vanished from my eyes, replaced by the sharp, predatory focus of a hunter.

"Where?"

"We found a trail at a local casino," Lucas said. "A human entrepreneur named George Miller. He lost his entire fortune last week. He’s been raving about a 'sorceress with purple eyes' who scammed him."

"Where is this George Miller now?" I stood up, buttoning my suit jacket.

Finding the witch was the only priority. Break the curse. Find my mate.

"He was spotted at the Blue Moon Restaurant downtown," Lucas replied.

"Prepare the car," I commanded, grabbing my coat. "We go now."

Twenty minutes later.

Lucas and I stepped through the entrance of the Blue Moon Restaurant.

The air was thick with the scent of rancid frying oil, stale beer, and the pungent, sour odor of human sweat.

I frowned, fighting the urge to cover my nose.

"Compensation? Pay for it with what?" A harsh, grating voice cut through the din.

I looked toward the source of the commotion. In the center of the dining area, a fat man in a cheap, ill-fitting suit was screaming at a member of the staff.

"You aren't worth the price of the apron you're wearing! Hurry up and clean this mess. Don't let the customers see your pathetic face. You ruin their appetite."

I scoffed internally. Humans and their petty little power trips. It was pathetic.

I intended to walk right past them. My target was George Miller. I didn't have time for a domestic dispute between a manager and a clumsy waitress.

But as I passed the mess on the floor, my gaze swept over the figure kneeling amidst the broken porcelain.

It was a girl. She was wearing a uniform two sizes too big for her. Her back was to me, her slender shoulders shaking violently.

She was silent.

She had her head bowed low. Her thumb rubed against the rough material in a frantic, rhythmic motion.

My footsteps stopped dead.

That motion...

A jolt of familiarity hit me.

I looked at the fat manager. His face was twisted in ugly triumph as he loomed over the girl, enjoying her humiliation.

My wolf growled.

Before I even processed what I was doing, the words left my mouth.

"I don't want your service."

The restaurant went silent. The fat manager froze, his jaw dropping as he recognized me.

"Ah?..." he stammered.

I extended my finger, pointing directly at the small, trembling figure on the floor.

"Let her do it," I said, my voice cold and absolute. "Except her, I don't accept service from anyone."