Whispers of the past
The orphanage was always the same—a place that smelled of faded wood, damp stone, and the faint scent of lavender soap. Bella had never known any other home. Her small room, tucked in the farthest corner of the building, was as familiar to her as the back of her hand. The bed creaked when she sat, the air thick with the quiet hum of life going on around her. She couldn't see the dust motes dancing in the sunlight, nor the cracks in the ceiling that had grown wider over the years, but she could feel the weight of it all, pressing down on her. And she hated it.
But what she hated more than the oppressive silence of the orphanage, more than the isolation she felt even among the other children, was the question that had been haunting her for as long as she could remember: Who was she?
Her memories were murky, fragmented at best. She remembered being abandoned on the orphanage doorstep as a child, but beyond that—nothing. No faces, no names, no clear answers. Just shadows and voices she could never quite place. And yet, there was always something else—something she couldn't understand. Her senses were sharper than they should be. She heard things most people couldn’t: the flutter of a moth’s wings in the dark, the subtle shift of a person's body language, the way the wind seemed to hum against her skin when the moon was full.
But it wasn’t just the sharpness of her hearing or her heightened sense of touch. There was something else—something primal—that tugged at her, something deep inside that she could never quite explain. Her heart raced whenever she was near the woods at night, as if something called to her. Sometimes, on stormy nights, she could almost feel a presence looming in the distance—strong, powerful, and close. But every time she tried to reach for it, it slipped away like smoke in the wind.
That night, however, there was something different.
It started with a sound—a footstep, sharp and deliberate, outside her room. Bella’s senses flared, her fingers curling into the fabric of her blanket. Her breath hitched, and for the first time in years, she felt a flutter of fear, but it wasn’t a typical fear. This was different—an instinctual fear that spoke of something she couldn’t yet understand.
The door creaked open, and she didn’t need to ask who it was. She could tell.
His presence filled the room—imposing yet strangely comforting, like the calm before a storm. Bella remained still, her pulse quickening as she waited for him to speak.
"I’ve been looking for you, Bella," came the voice, rich with authority and an accent she couldn’t place. It sent a shiver down her spine, yet she felt drawn to it, compelled.
Her voice trembled as she spoke, though she tried to keep it steady. "How do you know my name?"
A brief silence lingered, and then he stepped closer, his footsteps soundless against the worn floorboards. Bella could feel him now—his presence was like an electric charge in the air, pulling at her, like gravity itself. The hairs on her neck stood on end, her pulse pounding in her ears.
“I know more than your name, Bella,” he said softly, each word carefully measured, as though he were savoring it. “I know who you are. I know what you are.”
Her heart pounded in her chest. "What do you mean? Who are you?"
There was a pause, and Bella could feel his gaze on her, even though she couldn’t see it. She didn’t need to. His energy was too strong, too overwhelming. She knew he was studying her—looking at her as if she was something precious, something lost.
“My name is Luca,” he finally said, his voice thick with something like reverence. “I’m a part of your past… and your future.”
Bella’s mind raced. She had never heard the name before, but something about it… something about him felt familiar, like a distant memory she couldn’t quite touch.
“Your father…” he began, but stopped. Bella’s breath hitched at the mention of him. She had heard whispers from the other children—whispers about her father. They called him a monster. A killer. A Buber. But she had never fully understood what that meant.
“What about him?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
Luca’s next words were like a soft thunderclap, shaking her to her core.
“He was an Alpha. A powerful one. And you, Bella…” He paused, his voice thickening with emotion. “You’re his daughter. And you’re a part of that power, whether you know it or not.”
The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. Bella’s mind reeled. An Alpha? Her father? The rumors she had heard—the things whispered behind her back—suddenly felt like more than just cruel gossip.
Luca stepped closer, his voice soft but full of conviction. “You don’t know yet, but you’re not just an orphan. You have a legacy. A bloodline that runs deep, and the moment you accept it, everything will change.”
Her mind spun with questions. How could this man know so much about her? About her father? And why had he come now?
"I don’t understand," Bella said, her voice trembling. "What do you want from me?"
Luca’s next words were simple, but they struck like a bolt of lightning, a truth she hadn’t been ready for but could not escape.
“I want you, Bella. You’re my mate.”
The word echoed in her mind like a bell, reverberating through her body. Mate. She had heard the term before, but in all the years of her quiet existence, she had never imagined it could apply to her.
She didn’t know what it meant to be someone’s mate—especially not an Alpha’s—but she knew that her life had just changed forever.
