Chapter 5: Mysterious Man

Faith's POV

I turn the key in the lock, the metallic click echoing in the quiet house as I secure the door behind me. The familiar weight of the night settles around me, cool and almost suffocating. My footsteps echo down the empty hallway, but my mind isn't focused on the house or the coldness creeping into the corners. My eyes are drawn, almost magnetically, to the building across the street.

It stands there—silent, brooding, like a dark stain against the perfection of this pristine suburban neighborhood. The lawns are immaculate, the houses neat and polished, their lights twinkling through the windows like something out of a storybook. And then there's that house.

It’s the kind of place you’d expect to see in some eerie old horror film—a forgotten relic in the middle of a fairy-tale setting. Dark, crooked windows like hollow eyes, its paint peeling, the structure sagging slightly as though the house itself is tired of standing. There’s something wrong about it. Something almost alive, as if it’s waiting. The kind of house children dare each other to approach on Halloween night, their voices trembling as they joke about knocking on the door, daring the boogeyman inside to come out and snatch them away. Parents would tease their kids, warning them that if they didn’t behave, that house would be the last thing they’d see—where the boogeyman would punish them for their disobedience.

The building has that same foreboding air to it.

I hate how it makes me feel. I hate how it makes me remember. The fleeting images from my past flash through my mind like a broken film reel, jagged and fragmented. The smell of blood. The cold metal of chains. The dim, flickering light of a dank, narrow room. I clench my fists at my sides, willing the memories away.

I’ve been trying to forget. I made the decision to leave it all behind four days ago when I walked out of Florida—walked away from that hellish nightmare of a life. I thought I could outrun it. I thought I could start fresh here, in this place that looked like something out of a magazine, where people didn’t wake up to the sound of screams and the bitter scent of iron. I left everything I knew behind, but somehow, the past always follows, its shadow stretching longer with every step I take.

My stomach churns as I inhale deeply, but I can’t shake the feeling that the house across the street is watching me, too. No. Stop it. You’re just tired. You’re just imagining things. But as I force my eyes to break away, I can’t help but look back.

That’s when I see it.

The blinds. Pulled back just enough to reveal a face. Eyes. Staring right back at me from the dark window of that house. My breath catches in my throat, and for a second, time seems to freeze. The figure’s gaze is unwavering, locked on mine. My heart stutters in my chest, the thud of it too loud in my ears.

Is that... No. No way. That can’t be him.

My mind races, trying to make sense of it. My body tenses, every instinct screaming at me to run, to get inside before whatever—or whoever—that is decides to come out. But instead, I freeze. I stare back at the face, the sense of familiarity creeping up my spine like cold fingers. Something in me knows—I don’t know how, I don’t know why—but that face, those eyes, they’re too familiar. It’s like a memory I can’t quite place, a feeling I can’t shake.

And then, without thinking, my body moves on its own. I raise my middle finger toward the window, my eyebrow cocking in defiance, even as a part of me screams to stop. What am I doing? Who am I even doing this for?

For a moment, I expect the figure to blink, to move, to do something—anything—but it doesn’t. It just stares. And I can’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of unease settle deep in my chest.

I pull my gaze away, forcing myself to focus on something—anything—that’s not that thing across the street. But I know, deep down, that it’s too late. I can already feel it.

From that moment, I was already entangled. Already drawn into something I don’t understand, and at that moment, I didn’t even know how far it would go. But I was going to find out, whether I liked it or not.

I shake my head, the sense of foreboding only growing stronger. I don’t need to be standing here, staring at that place, feeling like there’s a thousand eyes on me. I need to get out. I need to move.

I huff, turning sharply and heading toward the café, where I’ll begin work tomorrow as the co-managing partner. I try to focus on the small comforts of normalcy, of routine, but that house... that house haunts me now. It’s a shadow I can’t escape, no matter how fast I walk, no matter how far I go.

And as I walk down the sidewalk, I feel the undeniable weight of something dark pressing against me. The kind of dark that doesn’t just disappear. It lingers. Watches. Waits.

And I know, with a certainty I can't shake, that whatever this is—whatever has started—it’s only just begun.

Alessandro's POV

I watch as she walks away, her back to me, that small defiant gesture—her middle finger raised to the window—lingering in my mind like a shadow. I chuckle under my breath, though something about it feels... wrong. She has spirit, no doubt about that, but there's something else beneath it all. Something that scratches at the surface of my thoughts, making me uneasy in ways I can't fully understand.

No. I shake my head, pushing the thought away. It’s just a human reaction. It means nothing. Or at least, I try to convince myself of that.

But even as I dismiss it, I find myself watching her disappear down the street, her figure growing smaller with every step. I bite my thumb, a habit I can’t seem to break, my mind racing with the implications of what I just saw. It’s her, isn't it? My mate. The one the clan whispers about, the one I can't ignore, no matter how hard I try.

The weight of the moment presses on me as my phone vibrates in my pocket, the harsh ring cutting through the silence of the night. I pull it out, answering before the second ring ends.

"Dylan," I growl, my voice low and tight, "How's everything back at the clan?"

He inhales sharply, and I can hear the tension in his breath. "Well, they’re not happy..."

I groan inwardly, rubbing my temple with my free hand. "They know the code, Dylan. This is my mate we’re talking about," I snap, a thread of frustration weaving into my tone.

He sighs. "Look, I get it. When I found Clarissa, I went by the code too. But this... this is different for you. You know that. You're our leader now. You need your queen. You need her by your side. If your father finds out—" His words trail off, and I feel the weight of his unspoken fear.

I let out a harsh laugh, my eyes narrowing as I lean back against the bench, the cool metal biting into my spine. "He won’t find out," I growl, my jaw clenched. "And anyone who thinks they can tell him otherwise will lose their tongue. Make sure they understand that."

I pause, letting the silence stretch between us, before continuing, "I know what he would do if he found out. He’d destroy everything I’ve built. The treaty I’ve forged, the fragile peace we’ve fought for... he'd tear it apart. He would have no hesitation. And the werewolves... They'd wait for us to slip up. For me to make one mistake. And they’d pounce." My voice lowers, the bitterness tasting like ash on my tongue.

Dylan doesn’t respond at first. He knows it’s true.

"The Alpha King has made it clear," I continue, the thought chilling me even more, "if we break the treaty in any way, he'll rally the packs. War. It's all he wants. All he's ever wanted." I can feel the weight of his words, the cost of every action that comes with this life. The politics of it all. The bloodshed that could follow if my father learns of her existence.

I run a hand through my hair, forcing myself to focus. The chaos I would bring into her life is something I can’t even begin to fathom. Her world... it’s so far removed from mine, and yet now, it's entangled in it.

Dylan speaks again, his voice quieter now, like he's trying to tread carefully. "Okay, well, I’ll try to keep them tight-lipped. But, Alessandro... your father did contact us. He wants you at the palace. You know he can’t trust Luca with the throne. You know this."

I close my eyes briefly, feeling the cold knot in my stomach tighten. Luca. The traitor. The brother I was supposed to replace. The one my father still trusts, even after everything.

Dylan hesitates, before adding, "There’s so much we can do here, but... Alessandro, you know you belong in that palace. This rebellion—it’s going to get you killed, or worse, locked up."

A scowl twists my lips, and I grind my teeth in frustration. He’s right. I hate it, but he’s right. There’s only so much I can do out here. I took half the clan with me when I left the Isle, choosing to live among humans, seeking something different. Something real. But now... now it feels like I’ve dug myself too deep into this rebellion, like there's no way out.

I should have taken the throne. I should have followed the path laid out for me, should have made my father proud instead of fighting against him. But after my mother... after everything, I couldn't. I refused.

But this life, this rebellion, it has consequences—consequences I can’t outrun. I think of her. My mate. She has no idea what’s coming, what world she’s been dragged into just by being in my proximity. I don’t know how she fits into all of this. How I could ever explain it to her without breaking her, without ruining everything she’s built for herself.

I can’t bring her into this. I can’t bring her to the palace. It will destroy her. I will destroy her.

I shove the thought aside, trying to focus on the present. “Alright, Dylan. Keep it under control. And if anyone breathes a word of this to my father, make sure they regret it.”

I hang up the phone, tossing it into my pocket, my fingers drumming anxiously against the cold bench.

The minutes tick by slowly as I stare out at the horizon, the sun starting to dip lower, casting long shadows across the street. A couple more hours until sunset...

But even as I watch the sky darken, a feeling gnaws at me. The weight of it. The pressing urgency of it all. The fact that I’m playing with fire. That I’ve already crossed a line I can’t uncross.

I think of her again—Faith.

And for the first time, I wonder if she truly has any idea of what she’s walked into. The danger. The darkness. The war that’s already brewing, just waiting to consume everything in its path.

And I wonder... can I protect her from it?

Or have I already doomed her, without even realizing it?

Faith's POV

I walk into the cozy little café, the soft sound of chatter and the rich scent of coffee greeting me as soon as the door swings open. The warm, inviting atmosphere wraps around me like a hug, and I can already feel the tension from the past few days starting to melt away. Debra, the owner, is behind the counter, expertly working the espresso machine with a big smile on her face.

As soon as she sees me, her eyes light up, and she waves me over with that kind of friendly enthusiasm that makes you feel like you’ve known her for years. "Faith, it’s a pleasure to meet you! It's so nice to have a new face around these parts, especially in my café. You'll reel in the customers tomorrow for sure!" she says, her voice bubbling with warmth.

I can’t help but chuckle, feeling a little more at ease. "Well, I’ll certainly do my best! One small almond caramel latte, please," I reply with a playful smile.

Debra nods, already grabbing the ingredients for my drink, her movements smooth and practiced. As I wait, I lean against the counter and let my mind wander, my thoughts drifting back to... him.

The guy across the street. The one who had been staring at me from that creepy house. I try to shake it off, but there was something familiar about him. The way he looked at me—it wasn’t just some random stranger’s gaze. It felt too... intense, like he knew something I didn’t. I shiver, pushing the thought away.

Nope, not going there.

Still, part of me can’t help but wonder—could it have been him? Could that have been Alessandro, the mysterious guy who’s been occupying my thoughts since that night at the bar? The idea of it sends a weird little flutter through my chest. I mean, it’s possible, right? After all, it’s a small world. Or maybe I’m just being paranoid... who knows?

Debra hands me my drink, and I snap back to reality. "Here you go, hon. One almond caramel latte, just how you like it," she says with a wink.

I take the cup, feeling the warmth seep into my fingers. "Thanks, Debra! You’re a lifesaver," I say, grinning as I take a sip. Mmm, perfect.

As I turn to leave, I catch a glimpse of the café window. The sun is starting to dip lower in the sky, casting a soft glow over everything. I feel a sense of peace settle over me for the first time in days. Everything’s going to be okay, I remind myself.

But then again, with all the strange things happening lately... maybe I should keep an eye out. Just in case.