Chapter 4: The Forgotten Bride Returns

 

Calla’s POV

The rooftop greenhouse was drenched in moonlight, it was where we agreed to meet discreetly. I knew it was a huge gamble, I knew my request might have been viewed as a trap and gets dismissed but I was surprised to get a reply that he would meet me.

Glass panes were aching above me like a forgotten cathedral of wilted things. It was quiet—too quiet. A faint scent of jasmine clung to the air which was mine, that is my scent but underneath it lingered something wilder. Him.

I stood near the potted citrus tree, one hand clutching the strap of my old but reliable leather bag, the other hand curled into a fist at my side like I mentally guarding myself. The city lights below were distant blurs, like memories I refused to focus on. I shouldn't be here. I swore I'd never come back. Never look into those eyes again.

But here I was, waiting for the monster who used to call me his bride.

The rustle of a door cracked the silence.

I turned just in time to see him enter. Rowan Blackthorne.

Even after almost four years, the sight of him made my lungs seize. They almost stopped functioning. He was broader now, sharper around the jaw. Power clung to him like a tailored suit—his presence filled the space before he even spoke a word.

And those eyes.

Silver. Cold. The color of winter before the storm.

But they held no recognition.

He didn’t know me.

“Miss…” he said, voice gravel over ice. “You asked for a private meeting. I don’t usually grant those without a name.” He said, addressing me and letting me understand he made an exception. But i was unmoved.

I blinked, pulling the mask tighter over my face. “Call me… Elena.” I’d used the alias before. It fit like armor now.

He studied me. “You’re human?”

“Mostly.” He doesn't need to know any details about me.

There was a pause. The air between us thickened.

“You said this was about a child.” His voice held that clipped Alpha patience—calm, but barely. “A supernatural child in distress.”

I reached into my bag, pulled out the tiny vial of Asher’s blood, and held it out like a weapon. “My son,” I said, softly. “He’s sick. Burning up. The doctors say it’s something… genetic. Something only Alpha blood can help fight.”

Rowan didn’t take the vial. But he stepped closer instead.

“How do you know that?” he questioned.

“I asked the right people. Paid enough to know this.” I swallowed, my heart thudding. “Your bloodline has the antibodies. The healing factor. I don’t need a donation. Just a vial. Small. Clean. Enough to help my son.”

Rowan arched a brow. “You tracked down a werewolf Alpha and demanded his blood. That’s bold.”

“I don’t have time for pride,” I said. “I have a child.”

“Who’s his father?”

The question cracked through me like glass.

I kept my expression smooth. “That’s not your concern.”

Rowan took another step. He was close now—too close. I could see the flecks of steel in his irises, could feel the energy thrumming off him. Alpha magic. The same magic that once marked me.

“Why me?” he asked. “Why Blackthorne blood? There are other Alphas.”

Not like you. That’s what I wanted to say.

Instead, I said, “Because your bloodline carries healing strands. Rare ones. Your pack’s mutations are older—stronger. It’s what the specialists said.”

He didn’t look convinced. His wolf was rising behind his eyes, sensing something. But he said nothing.

Instead, Rowan moved to a small table in the corner, where a sterile med kit was already laid out. He pulled a syringe, rolled up his sleeve, and without flinching, drew his own blood. Rich. Dark. Power soaked.

He capped the vial and walked it over to me.

“You have five minutes before security starts asking questions,” he said. “Use it well.”

I took the vial. My fingers shook, but I held them steady. “Thank you,” I whispered.

He tilted his head, eyes narrowing. “You smell like… grief.”

I stiffened.

Before I could answer, the door behind me flew open.

“Asher!”

I turned just as my son sprinted in—tiny legs, wild curls, his hoodie slipping off one shoulder. His fever had broken slightly, but he was still warm, and yet… nothing had stopped him from charging toward me like a storm.

But he didn’t reach me.

He stopped halfway, his bright silver eyes locking with Rowan’s as if he saw something intriguing.

Everything froze.

Asher blinked. Then tilted his head in that curious way only children do. It made my heart beat increase in pace, thumping wildly as i didn’t know what could happen next.

“You smell like me,” he said, with a little smile.

I felt the floor tilt. Like the universe was moving and any seconds from now, I could feel my knees hitting the hard floor.

Rowan didn’t move.

But his wolf surged forward, visible in his stiff posture, in the low, involuntary growl that slipped past his throat. His eyes went silver-bright—pure Alpha awakening.

The air pulsed with something dangerous.

I scooped Asher into my arms fast. He buried his face in my shoulder, sleepy now as the adrenaline was already fading. “Sorry, Mama. I was scared…”

Rowan didn’t speak.

He did not even blink. He just stood there, stunned with a bit of widened eyes.

I turned to the door, every nerve in my body fraying.

“Thank you,” I whispered again, thankful that he showed up to help a woman he does not know when it could have been a threat.

And I left.

I didn’t look back. Couldn’t.

But I felt his stare burning into my spine. My entire body felt like it was burning up so bad, and I was scared of slipping up or leaving behind something that could trigger everything I am avoiding. That is the last thing I wanted – the monster of an alpha being on my trail.

I felt the moment realization began clawing at the corners of his memory like a storm coming home.

He watched me walk away, heart racing.

“Who the hell are you?”