Moonbound Contract：Alpha’s Fated Mate

The evening air carried a faint chill, the dampness of the day still clinging to the streets. Strings of lightbulbs hung overhead, their warm yellow glow spilling across the cobblestones, glimmering off scattered traces of water. On weekends, the Shoreditch night market was always alive—coffee mingled with the scent of grilled meat, while vendors hawked handmade soaps and dog-eared books. The air was thick with chatter and the pulse of life. Avery moved through the crowd with a small notebook in hand, pausing now and then to jot down a word or two. She liked to capture scents and the feelings they stirred—more vivid to her than any formula could ever be. She stopped at a coffee stall. The vendor, a bearded man, grinned as he saw her. “Back again? Still chasing inspiration?” Avery slipped her pen into her pocket and smiled up at him. “Yes. Your roasts always have something unusual.” She leaned closer, inhaling the fragrance rising from the cup. “What’s different this time?” “Fresh Ethiopian beans. A little more acidic,” he said proudly. She nodded, wrote it down, then bought only a small cup. Cradling it in her hands, she wandered off. To her, the night market was like a living laboratory—messy, real, and far more inspiring than the sterile reagents of a lab. The crowd thickened. Children dashed past, couples brushed by hand in hand. As Avery paused, she suddenly caught a scent unlike anything else. It was sharp, cold—pine fresh yet faintly metallic, like rust. It cut through the food-laden air, piercing her senses and making her chest tighten. She froze, her heartbeat quickening. The pen slipped from her fingers. As she bent to retrieve it, she caught sight of someone approaching. A tall man in a black coat, his steps steady. He was speaking on the phone, voice low and even. Under the streetlight, his features were carved in shadow, his expression cool and unreadable. Then he looked up, and his gaze met hers. Avery stiffened and dropped her eyes at once. She shoved her notebook into her bag and edged aside, feigning calm. Yet the scent clung to her breath; the more she tried to ignore it, the sharper it grew. The man ended his call and stepped closer. His voice was flat, almost toneless. “Excuse me.” Avery hurried to one side, her reply softer than she meant it to be. “It’s fine.” She turned to leave but, against her will, glanced back. He hadn’t spoken again—only scanned the crowd, brows faintly drawn, as if watching for something. Her breath hitched. Why was she reacting so strongly to a stranger? She lived among scents; yet this one had unraveled her completely. Before she could dwell on it, shouts rose from the far end of the market. A group of drunk young men had started a quarrel with a vendor. Voices clashed louder and louder, the crowd rippling in unease. Someone shoved her, nearly knocking her off balance. She reached out, caught nothing, and tipped forward—until a hand gripped her shoulder, firm and unyielding. “Careful.” The man’s voice was as cold as before. Avery froze, then murmured, “Thank you.” He let go and strode toward the disturbance. With swift, decisive movements, he cut into the crowd. Avery stood rooted, palms damp. For one clear instant, she knew—his strength was nothing ordinary. The shouting died down quickly—whether the vendor relented or the drunks were pushed away, she couldn’t tell. Noise settled back into its usual rhythm. When she came back to herself, he had already returned. His coat was a little rumpled, but his face unchanged. Seeing her still there, he paused. “You’re alone?” Avery hesitated, then nodded. “Yes.” “Crowded here.” His words were short, clipped. With a brief nod, he turned down another street. She watched his figure vanish into the crowd before slowly exhaling. Her chest felt unsettled, tangled in ways she couldn’t explain. She pulled out her notebook again, tried to write, but her fingers trembled, the lines jagged. Frustrated, she tucked it away and drifted on. Yet her focus never returned to the scents around her. Night deepened, the stalls glowing brighter. She bought some food, wandered to a street corner, and stood under a dim lamp. A breeze carried wood smoke and grease. She lifted her eyes, but the lights blurred the sky. She tried to steady herself, yet the tension inside refused to fade. Elsewhere, Luca had already left the market. Sliding into a car, his face impassive, he told the subordinate beside him: “This area’s been restless. Keep a close watch.” The car pulled away, headlights sweeping past. The market’s clamor receded into the night. Avery finished the last sip of coffee, tossed the cup into a bin, and headed home. Her footsteps echoed on the stone street. People still bustled around her, but she knew—tonight was not like any other. She didn’t want to dwell on it. Yet she couldn’t deny it—the man’s scent still lingered in her nose, refusing to fade.