CHAPTER THREE- THE ALPHA'S GAZE

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Chapter Three: The Alpha’s Gaze

The man was gone.

Aria stared at the spot where he’d stood just moments before, her chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. Her heart pounded against her ribs like it was trying to escape. She was shaking, but not from fear. No. What coursed through her veins was something else entirely—something darker, deeper.

Desire.

Need.

Recognition.

She didn’t even see his face clearly. Just the outline of his body in the mist, the strength in his stance, the intensity in his presence. But she knew—whoever he was, he was not just some guy from town.

He wasn’t ordinary.

And something inside her stirred in response to him, like a key sliding into the right lock after years of searching.

Still gripping the curtain, she stepped back from the window, breathless. Her mind raced.

You need to calm down. Get control of yourself.

But it was too late. The pull was already there. And it wasn’t letting go.

She bent to pick up the broken mug on the floor, her fingers trembling as she dropped the pieces into a trash bin. Then she paced, back and forth, trying to make sense of it.

Why was he watching her? What did he want?

And why did her body react to him like he was made of fire and she was just waiting to be burned?

A soft knock on the door snapped her out of the spiral.

She jumped, her pulse leaping in her throat.

No one was supposed to be out here. Especially not this late.

The knock came again—calm, steady.

She approached the door slowly, cautiously, her fingers hovering near the handle.

“Who’s there?” she called, her voice barely steady.

No response.

Aria hesitated. She should leave it. Ignore it. But something in her bones ached to open it. Against all better judgment, she undid the lock and cracked the door open.

A tall man stood just beyond the threshold.

Not the same one she saw in the trees—but something about him set her on edge. He had sharp features, piercing blue eyes, and a predatory smile that didn’t reach them.

“Evenin’, miss,” he drawled, voice smooth like oil. “Name’s Damon. I’m one of the locals. Thought I’d come welcome you to Crescent Ridge.”

Her grip on the doorknob tightened. “It’s a little late for welcoming visits.”

His smile widened, and he leaned on the doorframe. “Town can be strange for newcomers. Just wanted to make sure you’re… settling in alright.”

“I’m fine.”

He looked past her, toward the firelight and the scattered glass pieces in the trash bin. “Saw some prints near your place earlier. Big ones. Thought you might’ve seen something… unusual.”

Her throat went dry. “Like what?”

“Wolves, mostly,” he said, but his eyes glinted. “Though, not the kind you’d find in textbooks.”

Her pulse stuttered. He knows.

Damon tilted his head. “You feel it, don’t you? This place. It’s different. The forest calls to you. And maybe… someone in it.”

She swallowed hard. “I think you should go.”

A beat of silence stretched between them, the air thick with tension.

Then, he smirked. “Alright, miss. But be careful out here. You never know what kind of beast might come knockin’.”

And with that, he turned and disappeared into the darkness, his footsteps vanishing without a sound.

Aria slammed the door and locked it again, heart racing.

What the hell was happening in this town?

—

The next morning, she didn’t wake up to birdsong or sunbeams. She woke to a dream—no, a memory. At least, it felt like one.

She was in the woods. The same woods behind her cabin. But it was warmer. Brighter. And she was running—laughing. Chased by someone.

A man.

She never saw his face, only felt his arms catch her from behind, his body pressed against hers, his breath hot against her neck. A whisper in her ear: “Mine.”

Then she woke up gasping, tangled in sheets, body on fire with want.

It wasn’t just a dream. It was too real. Too vivid.

She needed answers.

She got dressed quickly—jeans, boots, a thick sweater—and headed to the one place she hoped might give her something: the town library.

—

The library was old, creaky, and smelled like parchment and secrets. Aria headed for the local history section, scanning the spines for anything on Crescent Ridge or forest legends.

After an hour of searching, she found a dusty journal tucked between two untouched volumes. “The Crescent Ridge Chronicles: Myth or Truth?”

She flipped it open.

The first page hit her like a blow to the chest.

“Some say the blood of the wolf runs in the veins of certain men. That under the moon, their skin shifts and their souls awaken. These men are not beasts, but guardians. Cursed and blessed by ancient magic to protect their mates, their lands, and their secrets.”

Aria’s breath caught.

She read on.

“It is said that when a wolf finds his true mate, the bond is instant, unshakable. She becomes his anchor. His weakness. His salvation. But a forbidden mate—a human, especially—is rare. Dangerous. Against the law of most packs.”

A chill rippled down her spine.

Was that what was happening to her?

Was she… his mate?

She slammed the book shut, overwhelmed.

Suddenly, the room felt smaller, tighter. She needed air.

As she walked out of the library, she spotted him.

Across the street, leaning against a tree like he had all the time in the world.

Him.

The one from the woods. No mist. No shadows this time.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, muscles tense beneath his fitted black shirt. Dark hair, tousled like the wind had played in it. Eyes—those same golden eyes—locked on hers with a hunger that made her knees weak.

He didn’t move. He didn’t speak.

But she felt it.

The pull. The connection.

Like lightning arcing across the sky, drawn only to her.

And in her chest, something

whispered: There you are.

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