Chapter 3

Celine’s pov.

He took a step closer. Not rushed, not hesitant. I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry. He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a murmur only me could hear.

“Did you hurt your wrist?”

The question was soft and gentle, yet it sent a slow, searing heat curling through my veins.

I didn’t know what unsettled me more—the quiet, possessive way he asked it… or the way my pulse betrayed me, hammering beneath my skin. His eyes flicked downward, his gaze sweeping over my wrist in a cold, assessing way. He wasn’t just looking—he was studying, as if searching for the slightest hint of damage.

Something in me cracked. Like a dam bursting, every emotion I had fought to suppress…Lucien’s neglect, the humiliation of this evening, the drunk man’s grip, everything came rushing to the surface. And before I could stop it, a sob tore from my throat.

Tears welled up, hot and uncontrollable. I turned away sharply, my back to him, mortified. Why was I crying? Was it exhaustion? Frustration? Or was it because, for the first time in a long time, someone had actually looked at me—not as an inconvenience, not as a possession, but as something fragile?

“I—I’m sorry.” The words stumbled out, shaky and uncertain. I didn’t even know what I was apologizing for. For crying? For existing? My fingers trembled as I wiped at my face, desperate to erase the evidence of my weakness.

Just then, a handkerchief appeared in front of me.White, crisp and unstained. I blinked through my tears, my breath fastening as I followed the hand holding it.

It was him. The stranger. I didn’t know who he was but he looked like someone of power. His tall, commanding frame loomed beside me, his presence overwhelming. But his expression? Emotionless. Not pitying, not even comforting. Just watching.

His bright green eyes…so vivid, so eerily sharp, studied my tear-streaked face with a detached kind of interest, like he had already expected this reaction. He didn’t blink, nor did he offer a single word. As if my tears meant nothing.

But yet… he had still given me the handkerchief. I hesitated for a second before accepting it, pressing the soft fabric against my damp cheeks.

The moment I took it, he stepped back, and without another word, he turned and walked away. No lingering glances, no farewell. Just silent departure…taking with him the cold darkness that seemed to follow his every step.

I clutched the handkerchief in my hands, watching him disappear into the dark hallway. My hands roamed over the handkerchief, examining it. There were words stitched into the fabric. My heart pounded as I traced my fingers over the embroidery.

Bloodfang!! It was written in little silver letters. My breath hitched…bloodfang? I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. Bloodfang was the most feared pack—known for its ruthless warriors and a leader who was more monster than man. My fingers trembled as I flipped the handkerchief again, searching for more. And then, I saw it.

On the bottom left corner, another title was embroidered—one that made me almost scream in pure shock. ‘Lord Sovereign’

A sharp gasp left my lips, my free hand flying to my mouth. There was only one Lord Sovereign in Bloodfang. The Alpha King!

I had casually met him? My grip on the handkerchief tightened as the realization sank in. The name alone sent fear down the spines of lesser Alphas. And I had stood before him, oblivious. How had I not recognized him? I had heard of him, of course. Everyone had. But I had never seen him in person. And now, I had his handkerchief.

I swallowed hard, staring at the embroidered words like they might disappear if I blinked. This wasn’t something he would have discarded carelessly. It had his title on it. Which meant it mattered. I should return it, but as I looked around, there was no single sight of him. He had totally disappeared.

I ended up going into the restroom, and didn’t even bother to come out till it was time to go home.

*****

Kaine’s pov.

The room was silent except for the slow, rhythmic tapping of my fingers against the mahogany desk. A single piece of paper sat before me, freshly delivered by my assistant. The dim glow of the chandelier illuminated the room with a soft radiance.

I already knew what it said, but I read it anyway.

Celine…that’s her name. That’s what’s written here.

I leaned back in my chair, exhaling slowly as I dragged my gaze over the rest of the information. Celine Greythorne. Married!!

A muscle in my jaw flexed. I had known she was married—the ring on her finger that night had made that much clear. But to him?

The tapping of my fingers ceased as I glanced at the name beside hers—Lucien Greythorne.Tch! Of all the men she could belong to, it had to be that bastard.

The son of the Alpha of Emerald Forest. A man who thought power was something inherited, something owed to him rather than earned. I haven’t met him yet, but I hated him.

My hand curled into a fist against my thigh. So, she belongs to him? The thought was almost amusing. ‘Belong’…A word that had never held meaning for me, and yet… since that night, something had settled in my chest, dark and unyielding. A fixation, maybe. An obsession?

It had started the moment I saw her. The moment our eyes met. She had looked at me like she wasn’t sure whether to run or keep staring—like her body recognized something before her mind could process it. That hesitation, that fear… it had been intoxicating.

But it wasn’t just that. It was the way she had held herself, even when that drunk fool had touched her. She had been afraid, but she hadn’t screamed. Hadn’t even called for help. I saw the way her fingers twitched, the way she stiffened as if she expected worse. But still, she endured. That had irritated me. More than it should have.

And when she cried…when her small, delicate frame trembled as she turned away from me, trying to hide her tears, I had wanted to reach for her. Wanted to force her to look at me. Instead, I handed her a handkerchief, and walked away.

Now, days later, I still thought of her. I thought of the way she held herself together, the way she had taken that simple cloth from me like it was the only thing anchoring her in that moment. And I wondered—had she kept it?

A slow smirk curled at the corner of my lips, dark amusement burning slow in my chest. It didn’t matter, she was married, but that had never stopped me before. I could sense a loophole in their so called marriage. And for the first time in a long while, I found myself… interested. Not just in her, but in what it would take to break her. To strip her from Lucien’s grasp and make her see—