The Alpha's Lover

Chapter 3 – The Wound That Shouldn’t Exist

The morning light spilled across Evelyn’s bedroom, soft and golden, touching the edges of her bookshelves and the pale curtains fluttering with the breeze. Normally, she loved mornings—quiet, full of promise, the kind that whispered she could still be ordinary. But this morning was different.

Her body felt too heavy, her chest too tight. The memory of the night before came back in fractured flashes: glowing eyes in the dark, claws glinting beneath the moonlight, the terrifying weight of the wolves that had circled her, and then—him. Adrian Blackwood. The stranger who had fought them off with a kind of impossible power.

Evelyn pushed herself up, grimacing as the sheet brushed against her skin. Her shoulder burned. She remembered claws sinking into her, hot pain searing through her muscles. She braced herself and tugged her T-shirt down just enough to check the wound.

Her breath caught.

The long gash that had ripped through her shoulder was… gone. Not healing. Not scabbing. Gone.

Smooth skin, unbroken, as if she had never been hurt at all.

“No,” she whispered, shaking her head. “That’s not possible.”

She stumbled to the mirror above her desk, tugging her shirt fully off. She turned, craning her neck to look. There was nothing. No scar. No trace of the injury that should have required stitches, that should have left her writhing in pain.

Her heart thudded painfully in her chest.

Something was wrong with her.

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand, making her jump. She grabbed it, grateful for the distraction. A message lit the screen—her best friend, Hannah.

Hey, you vanished after the library last night. Everything okay?

Evelyn hesitated. What could she say? That she’d been nearly torn apart by wolves and saved by a man who shouldn’t exist? That she had a wound that had disappeared overnight? Hannah would think she’d lost her mind.

Yeah, just tired. Talk later, she typed back quickly, tossing the phone aside.

She couldn’t pretend nothing had happened. She needed answers.

And she knew the only person who could give them to her.

Adrian Blackwood.

The day passed in a blur. Evelyn went to her classes, though she remembered nothing from the lectures. Her notebook remained blank, her pen idle in her hand. Her thoughts kept circling back to the man with cold gray eyes, to the way he had looked at her with recognition. As if he had known her long before they met.

By the time she left campus, dusk was settling, the city’s skyscrapers reflecting the last streaks of orange in the sky. She hadn’t meant to end up here, but her feet had carried her back to the sleek, glass tower that bore the Blackwood name in steel letters.

The building loomed, intimidating, its windows catching the dying light like shards of obsidian. Evelyn swallowed hard. She had no plan. No excuse for barging into the life of a billionaire CEO. But her instincts screamed that she needed to see him.

Before she could talk herself out of it, she walked through the revolving doors.

The lobby was vast, marble floors gleaming, walls lined with modern art. The receptionist looked up, polite but guarded.

“Can I help you, miss?”

“I—I’m here to see Adrian Blackwood,” Evelyn said, her voice steadier than she felt.

The receptionist’s brows lifted slightly. “Do you have an appointment?”

“No. But it’s important.”

The woman’s professional smile tightened. “I’m afraid Mr. Blackwood doesn’t take unscheduled visitors.”

Evelyn’s shoulders slumped. Of course. What had she expected? That she could just march into the life of a man like him and demand answers?

She turned to leave, but the air in the lobby shifted—colder, heavier, as if the space itself bowed to an unseen presence. Evelyn froze.

Adrian Blackwood stood at the far end of the lobby.

Tall. Immaculate in a dark tailored suit. His hair perfectly in place, his eyes as stormy and unreadable as the night before. He moved with the kind of authority that silenced rooms.

And he was looking directly at her.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Then he crossed the lobby, his steps measured, predatory. The receptionist ducked her head, murmuring something Evelyn didn’t hear.

Adrian stopped a foot away from her. His gaze raked over her face, sharp, searching.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said quietly, his voice smooth, clipped.

Evelyn swallowed. “I need answers.”

His jaw tightened, but he gestured toward the private elevators. “Come.”

The elevator ride was suffocating. Adrian stood beside her, exuding a kind of cold power that made the small space feel smaller. Evelyn’s nerves screamed at her to keep quiet, but silence was unbearable.

“My wound,” she blurted. “It’s gone. Completely. What did you do to me?”

Adrian’s eyes flicked to her, unreadable. “I did nothing.”

“Nothing? I was attacked, bleeding. I should be in the hospital right now!”

“And yet you’re not,” he replied calmly. “Doesn’t that tell you something?”

Her pulse raced. “That something’s wrong with me.”

Adrian’s lips curved—not a smile, but something colder. “Not wrong. Different.”

Before she could demand more, the elevator chimed, and the doors slid open to reveal his office.

The space was as severe as the man himself—floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the glittering city, dark wood, steel accents, no trace of warmth. Adrian motioned for her to sit, but Evelyn remained standing, crossing her arms.

“You knew something last night,” she said. “You looked at me like… like I wasn’t a stranger.”

Adrian studied her for a long moment. “Because you’re not.”

Her breath caught. “What do you mean?”

He stepped closer, his gaze locking onto hers with unnerving intensity. “You carry a bloodline that should not exist. Part human, part something else.”

Evelyn shook her head. “That’s insane.”

“Is it?” His voice was low, commanding. “Your wound healed in hours. Your senses are sharpening, aren’t they? Sounds louder, scents stronger. The pull you feel toward me—it’s not coincidence. It’s instinct.”

Her chest tightened. He was right. Even now, she was hyperaware of him—the faint scent of cedar clinging to his suit, the sound of his measured breaths, the magnetic weight of his presence.

“I don’t understand,” she whispered.

“You will.”

Silence stretched between them, charged, dangerous.

Finally, Evelyn forced herself to ask the question that had been gnawing at her since the attack. “What are you?”

Adrian’s lips parted, but he didn’t look away. “A wolf. An Alpha. And the man destined to keep you alive, whether you like it or not.”

Her knees nearly buckled. “A wolf,” she echoed. “That’s not real.”

“You saw them,” he said simply. “You bled because of them. Do you really believe this city belongs only to humans?”

Evelyn pressed a hand to her temple, the room spinning. Wolves. Alphas. Bloodlines. And her. None of it made sense, but the proof was undeniable.

“I can’t—I can’t do this,” she said, backing toward the door.

Adrian’s voice stopped her. “You don’t have a choice, Evelyn.”

Her name on his lips sent a shiver down her spine. He took a step closer, eyes burning with something she couldn’t name.

“They will come for you again. And next time, I may not be there to stop them.”

The weight of his words sank into her bones. For the first time, Evelyn realized the truth: her life would never be ordinary again.

And Adrian Blackwood—dangerous, unreadable Adrian—was now bound to it.

That night, lying awake in her room, Evelyn stared at the ceiling, the city’s neon glow seeping through her curtains. She touched her unmarked shoulder again and again, as if willing the wound to reappear, to make her life normal. But the skin remained flawless.

Adrian’s words echoed in her mind.

You carry a bloodline that should not exist.

She wanted to deny it, to laugh it off as madness. But deep down, in the hollow of her chest, she already knew.

Something inside her was changing.

And the world she thought she knew was about to unravel.