CHAPTER 2
1174 Words
The distant thump of something heavy hitting the floor makes me tense. Raised voices follow. Someone is angry.
I keep my head down, hands steady as I arrange the platter of biscuits and dips. At least back here, I’m away from whatever tension is brewing in the diner. I pull my hood further over my face, making sure it covers the bruises. My eye is swollen, my lip is split, and there’s no real way to hide it all. I bite down on my bottom lip to keep from wincing when the cut stings.
Steeling myself, I step toward the counter.
I ask the first man for his order, keeping my voice quiet, eyes trained on my notepad as I write. I avoid their faces. They sound annoyed, their conversations clipped and tense.
Matti approaches. “Alpha—uh, I mean Henrik—wants a vanilla milkshake and cookies.”
I nod, jotting it down. Henrik. The name is familiar now. His reputation reaches far, even beyond Varjo Ridge.
With the platter balanced in one hand, I push through the ache in my ribs. Henrik watches me as I approach. His stare is sharp and unreadable.
I place the food on the table, surrounded by the other men. I take a deep breath. The pain is manageable. Just move; just keep moving.
In the kitchen, I brace my hand against the counter, pressing against the pain before going back to grab Henrik’s order. When I turn, his eyes are still on me, studying me.
The rest of the men are talking over each other, their voices layered with urgency. A map sprawls across the table, adorned with circles and lines, bearing the names of places scrawled across it—Aarni, Varjo Ridge, and a reference to rogues.,
That word sticks.
I place Henrik’s drink next to the map, keeping my voice steady. “Your order, sir.”
I turn to leave, but his voice cuts through the noise. “Wait.”
I freeze.
“What’s wrong with your ribs?”
My heart stutters. “Nothing, sir.”
“You struggled with the platter.” His tone isn’t harsh, just... knowing. Observant. “You’re in pain.”
I swallow hard. “It’s fine.”
“I want you to remove your hood.”
I stiffen. My fingers twitch at my sides.
Matti steps in. “Elina, take a break.” He turns toward Henrik, voice firm. “I told you to leave her alone.”
I don’t hesitate. I slip through the kitchen and out the back door, inhaling the cool air.
Inside, Henrik growls.
“She should smell like a rogue,” his voice carries. “But she doesn’t. She smells... sweet.”
“You need to leave her alone,” Matti warns.
“I could smell her before she served me,” Henrik mutters. “My wolf is restless.”
Silence.
Then another voice—Elias, I think. His Beta.
“Alpha... you don’t think she could be your mate, do you?”
She let out a sharp laugh “The Moon Goddess wouldn’t bind an Alpha to a rogue.”
I clutch my arms. I don’t understand what they’re talking about, and I don’t want to.
I have fifteen more minutes left. Then I can go home.
Hopefully, by then, my father will have passed away.
I force myself back inside. The men are leaving, and I exhale when I hear car doors slamming.
Thinking Matti is behind me, I turn to say goodbye.
It’s not Matti.
It’s Henrik.
My throat tightens.
“My shift is over, sir,” I murmur. “If you need anything else, please see Matti.”
He doesn’t move.
His arm lifts, palm pressing against the wall beside me, cutting off my exit.
I take a step back.
“Take off your hood.”
I shake my head.
“Elina.” His voice is low and unreadable.
I step back again, but the wall is there, solid and unmoving.
“Matti!” My voice wavers.
Henrik leans in. He’s too close. My pulse stammers in my throat.
“Your scent,” he murmurs, fingers brushing the fabric of my hood. “It’s... intoxicating.”
A shiver races down my spine.
“You—you have a pet wolf?” My voice is barely audible.
There was a low chuckle. “Are you afraid of me, Elina?”
I nod.
He tilts his head, eyes sharp. “You should be.”
My hands curl into fists. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Rogues, mates, Lunas—I don’t know what any of that means. Please, just let me go home.”
Henrik watches me. His expression shifts, something unreadable flickering across his face. “I’ll let you go,” he says, “if you’re not my mate.”
Mate.
The word lingers in the air.
I glare at him. “I don’t know what that means, but I do know you’re an arrogant, obnoxious—”
His fist slams into the wall beside my head.
I flinch, dropping to the floor, curling into myself.
His breath is uneven. His wolf—whatever that means—is barely contained.
“Don’t ever insult me again.” He barely controls his voice.
I close my eyes. “Please,” I whisper. “Just let me go home.”
The tension shifts.
Then—
“Elina!”
Matti’s voice slices through the moment. “What the hell is going on?”
He kneels beside me, but when his hand brushes my ribs, I let out a sharp cry.
Matti’s expression hardens. “What did you do to her?”
Henrik clenches his jaw. “I didn’t touch her.”
Matti exhales sharply. “Because she doesn’t know what you are, you idiot.”
Silence.
I push myself up, voice shaking. “I don’t care what this is,” I say. “I quit.”
Matti looks crushed. “Elina, you don’t have to—”
“I was safe here,” I whisper. “Until he showed up.”
I grab my bag and turn, ready to leave.
But Henrik grabs my wrist.
Wait—
In one swift motion, he pulls my hood down.
Our eyes meet.
A sharp jolt of something powerful slams through me, like lightning.
Henrik’s body locks up, his breath coming in sharp, uneven bursts. His grip tightens, not out of force but out of something else.
It feels as though the world around us has vanished.
His gaze darkens.
“You’re my mate.”
The words send ice through my veins.
I yank my wrist free. “Stay away from me.”
His jaw tightens. “Who did that to your face?”
I hold my ground, my voice sharper this time. “None of your business.”
“Elina,” he murmurs, voice dangerously low.
I step back, heart hammering.
Then I run.
And for the first time, I don’t know if I’ll be able to outrun what’s chasing me.
- Writer
