A wolfs desperation: Chasing her

Her

Gabriel POV:

Snow fell softly against the dark French streets. I didn't know where I was going or what I was even doing. You could say that I was just allowing myself to wander. France had been a mistake—or maybe a last resort. I’d crossed borders without purpose before, but never like this. There was something gnawing beneath my ribs, a restless pull I couldn’t silence no matter how far I walked. The cold didn’t bother me. It never did. My wolf welcomed it, thrived in it, prowling just beneath my skin. Keep moving, it urged. Find it. Find what? I had stopped believing in answers.

My boots echoed against the cobblestone streets, the city quiet at this hour, save for the distant hum of nightlife and the muted laughter spilling from bars I passed without looking. Humans clustered together for warmth and distraction. I moved alone, hands buried in my coat pockets, breath steady, controlled. This was supposed to be freedom. No pack politics. No elders. No forced rituals. No reminders of what I lacked. And yet my chest ached. It came suddenly—sharp, unmistakable. A jolt straight through my sternum that stole the air from my lungs. I stopped mid-step, fingers curling instinctively as my wolf surged forward with a violent snarl.

There.

I frowned, muscles tensing. “There” wasn’t a direction. It was a certainty. The scent hit me a heartbeat later. Human. Warm. Salted with tears. Lavender and something softer beneath it—something that didn’t belong to any memory I had. My pulse slammed hard enough to rattle my ribs. No. I shook my head once, grounding myself. This was exhaustion. Residual instinct. My wolf had been restless for too long. It was imagining things—creating ghosts where none existed. But my feet moved anyway. The pull sharpened with every step, dragging me down a narrow street lit by flickering lamps. Music thumped faintly from somewhere ahead, loud and chaotic, clashing with the quiet snowfall. My jaw clenched as the scent grew stronger, wrapping around me like a snare. Then the door burst open. Noise exploded into the street—music, laughter, shouting—before it was swallowed by silence as the door slammed shut again.

A girl stumbled out.

She nearly fell.

I moved without thinking, instincts flaring hot and sudden, but she caught herself against a lamppost, breath shuddering. Tears streaked down her flushed cheeks, her shoulders trembling as she tried—and failed—to pull herself together. My world narrowed.

Her scent hit me full force and something inside me broke. Not cracked. Not shifted. Broke wide open. My wolf surged to the surface with a roar of triumph, recognition flooding my blood so fast I swayed where I stood. Mate. The word slammed into me like a verdict. I had mocked the idea. Denied it. Buried it beneath years of bitterness and resignation. And now it stood in front of me in the form of a human girl with red-rimmed eyes and a broken heart.

Impossible.

She wiped her face with the sleeve of her coat, dragging in shaky breaths. She hadn’t seen me yet. She didn’t feel the way the air between us had charged, thick and electric. I took a step forward. My boot scraped softly against the stone. Her head snapped up.

Our eyes met. The connection was immediate—violent in its stillness. Her gaze held mine, confusion flickering beneath the pain. She didn’t flinch. She didn’t look away. She simply stared, as if something in her recognized something in me. My heartbeat thundered. Control. I needed control.

"You’re not in the way," I heard myself say when she startled, the words rough, barely restrained. My voice sounded foreign in my own ears. She blinked, lips parting. "I—I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—" "You didn't," I repeated quietly. Her voice trembled when she spoke again. "I'm just… having a really bad night." The understatement of it twisted something savage in my chest. Her pain wrapped around my instincts, igniting a protectiveness so fierce it scared me. I took another step before I could stop myself, the space between us shrinking. She smelled like heartbreak and winter and something achingly right. I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't be this close.

She was human.

But my wolf didn’t care. Neither, terrifyingly, did I. And as I stood there in the falling snow, staring at the woman fate had waited until I was broken enough to hand me, I knew one thing with brutal clarity: Walking away was no longer an option. Then footsteps echoed behind her. Fast. Heavy. Angry. Her shoulders stiffened before she turned, like her body recognized the threat before her mind did. "Ashley." The name came sharp and irritated from a man's voice. The scent hit me first—male, human, possessive, threaded with alcohol and entitlement. My wolf snarled viciously, pressing hard against my control. The man strode toward us from the apartment entrance, jacket half-zipped, face flushed. His eyes flicked to me and narrowed instantly.

"And who the hell is this?" he demanded.

Ashley flinched.

"That's none of your business," she said, her voice thin but firm. He scoffed. "Yeah right." My jaw tightened. I didn’t move, didn’t speak. I let him see me fully—tall, unmoving, watching him like prey. Humans always felt it, even if they didn’t understand why.

His bravado faltered for half a second. Ashley stepped back slightly, closer to me without realizing it. "I said we’re done," she continued. Matt laughed harshly. "Oh come on. Don’t be like that. You made a scene, people were staring—" "You humiliated me," she said, voice shaking now. "You lied to me. For months." "Lower your voice," he snapped, grabbing her wrist.

I moved.

I didn’t remember deciding to.

One second he had her.

The next, my hand was wrapped around his forearm, crushing muscle and bone with enough pressure to make him gasp. "Let go," I said calmly. The calm was the most dangerous part. Matt stared at me, shock flashing across his face. "Get your hands off me!"

My grip tightened just enough for him to understand how easily this could go very wrong. Ashley sucked in a sharp breath. "Matt—stop." He yanked his arm back, stumbling a step away, cradling his wrist. His eyes burned with humiliation. "What the hell is wrong with you?" he barked at me. "You think you can just step in like—like some hero?" "I think," I said slowly, "that you no longer have permission to touch her."

The street had gone quiet. Snow fell. Somewhere a car passed. The city held its breath. Ashley straightened. "That is correct."

Silence. Matt stared at her, disbelief twisting his features. "Ashley—" She glanced at me briefly, surprise flickering across her face—as if she couldn’t believe she was saying this aloud. Then she looked back at Matt. "We’re done." Something ugly crossed his face. "So this is what it is? You run off and find some guy and suddenly—" I made a vicious step towards him, my intentions clear in my eyes. Before I could do anything, her warm and delicate hands wrapped around my arm. I leaned forward slightly, my shadow swallowing him whole. "You should leave," I said quietly. His instincts finally screamed loud enough to be heard. Matt took a step back. Then another. His gaze flicked once more to Ashley—looking for hesitation, weakness. He found none.

"Whatever," he muttered, turning away. "Have fun with your… rebound." He disappeared down the street, footsteps retreating fast.

I didn’t relax until he was gone. Only then did I turn to her. Ashley stood there shaking—not from cold, but from everything she’d just survived. Her hands were clenched at her sides, nails biting into her palms. "You didn’t have to do that," she said softly. "Yes," I replied. "I did." She searched my face, something unreadable in her eyes. The truth pressed against my teeth, dangerous and impossible. I offered her my coat without thinking. "You’re freezing."

She hesitated—then accepted it, fingers brushing mine.

Electricity snapped between us.

Her breath caught.

So did mine.