An unexpected visitor

Rudela,

Living with an empty stomach and keeping silent without complaint were skills every child of the slum learned early. When they wanted to cry, they simply could not. Tears never put food on the table. What those years did teach them was a deep fear of death and of losing the means to keep a full belly.

Kyle stepped out of the bathroom looking as handsome as ever. Dark black hair, warm brown eyes, and the Beta wolf that had declared its love for my wolf ten years ago. He saw me sitting on the floor with red eyes, and his expression changed at once. Familiar panic and concern tightened every line of his face.

“Rudela. What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

He paid no attention to the peanut shells and crumbs scattered across the floor. His knees hit the boards hard as he dropped down and gently gathered me into his arms.

He held me closer. “What’s wrong? Did you cry?”

I said nothing. I only shook my head. I could not understand what I had seen. I could not believe that the man who had shown me so much tenderness, who had told me I was the most important person in his world, who had made me feel I mattered when the rest of the pack tried to crush my spirit, could do something cruel like this to me.

I buried my face against his chest, fighting not to sob aloud. I wanted to wake up from this nightmare, from this unbearable agony of betrayal.

Slowly I reached for the mark on his neck—the warm, electric, throbbing mark that had always stood as proof of our love, our trust, and our loyalty. He let me mark him right after he marked me to show his loyalty the same way I did.

He flinched at my touch. A low laugh rumbled from his throat, followed by a feverish grin. “You’re getting greedy lately, my love. But tomorrow I have a very important meeting. As a newbie I have to be there.”

My body trembled at the lie. A broken laugh echoed inside my head, yet no sound left my lips.

Even though I was no light weight, he lifted me without effort and carried me to the bed. After he tucked the blanket around me, he looked down with the same soft affection I had once taken as a blessing from the Moon Goddess herself.

“Sleep tight. You don’t have to wake up early.” He pressed a kiss to my forehead and left the bedroom, work phone in hand.

I reached for my own phone and checked the pictures. They were real. Too real to ignore.

I did not know whether a heart made a sound when it shattered, but I felt it—like fragile glass breaking into sharp pieces.

I stared at the ceiling. The cold, unplastered surface. The old bulb that still collected spider webs and dust no matter how often I cleaned it. The wardrobe I had scavenged from the donation pile and repaired with two weeks of my wages.

Every object in this two-room apartment stood as a silent witness. The days I had gone without food for three nights so I could pay his father’s medical bills. The meat bun I had bought for fifty cents and carefully saved for Kyle before one of his supposed interviews.

The month I broke my leg and had no money for a hospital, so I bound it with a bamboo stick and strips of old cloth.

All of it had happened while he was working, earning promotions, and lying to my face. He had claimed to walk the entire pack every day searching for work. I had ached for him, believing he had tried for four long years without success.

Now the memory felt like a cruel joke. Each morning he had left after eating the meals I bought with my hard-earned money, promising to find a job soon and make me happy, while he was already earning millions.

What had I done wrong to deserve this? What had made him treat me with such cruelty?

I had believed that starving and being beaten by strangers were the worst pains the world could offer. I had thought begging on the street for a glass of water was the deepest humiliation. I had never imagined anything could cut deeper.

"Please, I prayed silently. Let this be a nightmare. When I open my eyes again, let it all have been a dream.

Tears soaked the pillow. My eyes finally closed. He did not return to the bed that night. For the first time, the thought of him left me too exhausted to care.

In the morning the other side of the mattress was cold. A note waited on the broken nightstand.

“I made breakfast. Eat it once you are awake.”

A familiar warmth spread through my chest. For a single second I forgot everything that had happened the night before. It felt like nothing more than a bad dream.

I walked into the bathroom, washed my face, changed into an old tank top, and headed to the kitchen. The entire time I refused to think about it.

Not until I unlocked my phone and found the photos still open on the screen. I had forgotten to close the app.

I stared at the bank balance: two million dollars. Not two thousand. Not two hundred thousand. Two million.

The egg on my plate suddenly tasted of nothing. Everything inside me protested against thinking any further. I scraped the leftovers into the trash and left for work.

Although money had kept me from college, I had started at the herb shop eight years earlier. That job had been the only reason I managed to keep the household running.

The wind chime rang as I stepped inside. Something in my expression must have shown, because the moment the owner looked at me his face changed.

“Are you all right, Rudela? You look like you’ve aged ten years overnight.”

Warner, an old retired healer who had once served the Alpha, studied me from head to toe. He had taught me about medicines and traditional herbs that worked better for werewolves than anything modern. I had used that knowledge to treat my in-laws myself so we never had to pay for outside help.

I managed a thin smile but gave no answer. My head felt heavy. I walked straight to the bathroom, splashed cold water on my face, and prepared to start the day.

I had just stepped into the main room when the back door slammed open. A strong scent of blood hit my nostrils.

“Who is it?” Warner rushed toward the rear entrance, already furious. Lately wild foxes and other beasts had been roaming the poorer parts of the territory.

“It’s a person’s scent, Boss,” I said, following close behind. “Not a wild animal.”

“Grab the first-aid kit then!”

I nodded. A different kind of fear crept in, pushing the earlier pain aside for the moment.

When we reached the back corridor, both of us froze. A giant Lycan lay on the floor, a silver dagger buried in his lower left leg.

“A Lycan in this pack?” Warner glanced at me with wary eyes. “Rudela, spray the scent blockers all over the room. Don’t let anyone pick up the Lycan scent.”

I nodded, my throat tightening. We were a werewolf pack under the Lycan Kingdom, yet Lycans rarely visited the packs.

Who was he? How had he ended up here?