The Man Who Looked Twice

Chapter Two: The Man Who Looked Twice

Nora’s POV —

The night was quiet now.

Too quiet.

The leaves crunched beneath me as I dragged my aching body across the forest floor. My feet were bleeding. My arms were scraped. My heart… well, that was already shattered.

I didn’t even know where I was going.

There was no home waiting for me.

No pack.

No one.

Just me… and the empty cold.

“Maybe this is it,” I whispered to myself, collapsing against a fallen tree. “Maybe I’ll die here, and no one will care.”

I wanted to cry. But I had no tears left.

A sound.

Then another.

I lifted my head slowly, eyes burning.

There were shadows moving between the trees. Low snarls. Glowing eyes.

Rogues.

I tried to stand, but my legs gave out.

I couldn’t run.

I couldn’t scream.

I could barely breathe.

One of them stepped forward, saliva dripping from its mouth. The others followed, forming a circle around me. They were going to tear me apart.

And honestly?

Maybe that was okay.

I closed my eyes.

I was done.

“LILLIAN!”

The name ripped through the night like thunder.

My eyes shot open.

What?

A blur of black and silver crashed into the rogue closest to me, snapping its neck in one swift motion. Then another. And another.

He moved like lightning. Like death itself. His growl was deeper, sharper, more powerful than anything I’d ever heard. The rogues didn’t stand a chance.

Within seconds, they were gone.

Silence returned.

But my body was frozen in fear—and shock.

The man turned slowly. His face was hard, rugged, fierce. His chest rose and fell as he stared down at me, eyes wide… but not with concern. With confusion. Pain.

For a moment, he just stared.

Then his voice came, low and shaken:

“…You’re not her.”

I blinked.

He stepped back like something burned him.

Was he talking to me?

He turned, like he was about to leave—like I was nothing more than an accident on his path.

“Wait,” I whispered. My voice was barely more than breath. “Please…”

He didn't glance about.

"Just leave me," I whispered, my eyes shut once more. "Everyone does."

I was utterly aware of the blackness pulling me under once more. My body was giving up.

I was cold. Freezing.

But then. something shifted.

Something struck me.

A scent.

Warm. Wet. So familiar. So. comforting.

And sparks.

Sparks on my skin where he placed his hand upon my wrist.

My eyes snapped open. He was kneeling beside me now, his jaw clenched, his expression as if he was trying not to care.

He said nothing.

But he didn't leave either.

I tried to sit up. "You don't have to help me," I whispered. "I'm used to rejection. You can just leave."

Still, no words.

I gazed at his face—his sharp jaw, the scar above his temple, the storm in his eyes.

Something about him was. familiar. But I did not know why.

He turned to go and then stood.

Good. Go. Just leave.

But then. he cursed under his breath.

And without a word, he dropped down and picked me up in his arms like I was a feather.

"W-what are you doing?" I panted.

"You'll catch your death out here," he replied softly.

"That's not your business."

"Maybe it isn't," he growled. "But I'm making it my own."

I had no idea who he was.

I had no idea why he'd rescued me.

I had no idea why he was staring at me like that.

Like I was a different person.

Like I'd awakened something he didn't want to be felt again.

But I didn't fight him.

For once… I let someone carry me up.

And before the darkness took me, I heard his voice, broken and deep:

".You smell like her."