Letter from Him
929 Words
Celine's Point of View
"Nice meeting you, Sir Jose."
"The pleasure's all mine, Miss Rowle," he said smoothly. "If you have questions about the business venture later, you can call my assistant to notify me. But for now, I assume you have no questions?"
I nodded, forcing a polite smile. "Yes, Sir. Thank you for your consideration."
He opened his mouth to reply, but the door burst open before a word could leave. I glanced just in time to see Jason standing there, a girl clinging to his arm. My chest tightened.
Jason—like Kevin, one of the men I had invited over before—had taken rejection personally. He hated me now, I was certain of it. My stomach churned. What was he doing here?
"Oh, I didn't know you had a meeting, Dad," Jason said, grinning knowingly. "And it happens to be with someone I used to know."
I froze, jaw clenching. The man in front of me—my potential business partner—was Jason's father. I felt my pulse spike, and my hands went clammy. This had to be a setup. Probably a little revenge or mockery. He even brought a girl.
I didn't care. I had other things to worry about. My mind had already decided: I wasn't signing anything today.
"Do you two know each other?" Sir Jose asked, eyebrows raised.
Jason's grin widened. "I know her so well, Dad."
I wanted to puke on the spot.
Standing abruptly, I extended a hand for a shake. "Thank you, Sir Jose. I must take my leave now," I said, keeping my voice steady.
He studied me, confusion flickering across his features. "Alright, Miss Rowle. I wish you well."
"You too," I murmured, not meeting Jason's eyes, and strode past him down the empty hallway.
Even with Jason's presence, my thoughts weren't on him. They were on the figure I had seen last night—the one in my unit. When I woke up this morning, he—or it—was gone. I didn't have the words to describe him, just the memory: muscular, commanding, almost otherworldly.
Then it hit me: a werewolf.
The thought sent goosebumps racing down my spine. I stopped mid-step, heart hammering. I needed to get home. If there really was a monster in my apartment, I couldn't stay a second longer.
I muttered a hurried apology as I shoved past a woman trying to catch the elevator. "Excuse me... wait! Hold it for me!"
The doors slid open. I exhaled, heart racing, and shoved the button for my floor. The woman gave a silent nod in return, and I nodded back, too flustered to speak.
The elevator's ding felt like a countdown, and as soon as I stepped out, I sprinted toward my unit. My fingers fumbled with the key, and finally, the door clicked open.
Inside, nothing seemed out of place. No signs of struggle. No chaos. My chest heaved as I took cautious steps to the bed and turned on the bedside lamp.
And then I saw it: a letter, resting neatly on the table.
"What's this..." I whispered, picking it up.
The paper was plain, the handwriting precise:
"I sensed something upon you earlier—the mark of a wolf. I would speak with you of it the moment I come back."
I froze. My mind spun. Who is he? Why was he in my room last night? Could he be dangerous—or worse, lingering somewhere, waiting?
The memory of him came rushing back: tall, powerful, muscular, exuding authority and protection. My hands trembled as I ran them along my arms. Where had he come from? The door had been closed; I was sure of it.
I remembered all the movies I'd seen about werewolves. Portals, other worlds... maybe he had one here. But where?
I scanned the apartment, instinctively checking the bathroom. The mirror glimmered faintly under the lamplight.
Could it be?
I approached slowly, heartbeat pounding in my ears. "Hello?" I whispered to the reflection, half-expecting him to emerge.
But nothing.
Just me.
I inhaled sharply and extended my finger, trying to imagine it crossing some invisible boundary. Inch by inch, closer... half an inch...
A gasp escaped me as my fingertip brushed the glass.
Nothing happened.
Then disappointment washed over me. "Such a stupid idea," I muttered. "Why did I even think..."
I straightened, trying to calm my racing heart. But as I turned away, the mirror flickered. A gleam shimmered across its surface, subtle yet undeniable.
My breath caught when I sensed something.
Something was there. Watching. Waiting.
I wanted to step back. My rational mind screamed to leave it alone. But curiosity—a dangerous, unrelenting curiosity—kept me rooted. Who was he? Why had he saved me? And why did he leave a letter, almost like a challenge?
The room felt smaller suddenly, the shadows deeper. Every creak of the floorboards sounded louder. My pulse raced, and I realized, with a shiver, that my world had just changed. Something beyond human was here, and I had no idea how to handle it.
Yet, despite the fear, there was an undeniable pull—a need to understand, to see, to know more.
The mirror flickered again. Just a hint of movement. Just enough to make me question everything I thought I knew.
I swallowed hard, gripping the edge of the sink. The letter burned in my pocket, a reminder that he was real, and he would return.
And somehow, I knew... I wasn't ready for what was coming.
- Writer
