My Boss Is A Mafia Wolf Blood

I was mesmerized by the lights of the full moon that night. The moon was huge, round, and golden. It hung low over the city, making the empty highway look like silver. I was on my way home, driving alone. It was almost midnight. I had been driving this same road for three years, ever since I started college. It was the old highway that connects the university to my small apartment in the city. During the day, it was busy, full of trucks and students. But at midnight, it was a ghost road. No lights except the moon. No cars except mine. That night was different though. The moon was too bright. Too big. It felt like it was following me. Every time I turned a corner, it was still there, watching. My phone was playing soft music on the dashboard. I was humming, trying to stay awake after a long day at university. My old car rattled a little every time I pressed the gas. My phone battery was at 12 percent. My gas was low. I was tired. My internship at Blackwood Corp had been exhausting. Filing, copying, carrying coffee for people who never even said thank you. I was just an intern, invisible. But I needed the money. My parents sent me a small allowance, but it was never enough for rent, books, and food in the city. So I worked. I studied. I drove this lonely road every night. I remember thinking, maybe I should stop and rest for a minute. My eyes were getting heavy. The road was blurring. That was when it happened. Then suddenly — THUD. A loud, heavy bump under my car. My heart dropped. I slammed on the brakes. The tires screeched. "What was that?!" I whispered. I looked ahead. The road was empty. No dog. No person. Nothing. I quickly looked in the rearview mirror. Still nothing. Just dark asphalt and the glowing moon behind me. But I felt it. I was sure I hit something. My heart was pounding so loud it was hurting my chest. I turned off the music with shaky hands. The place became completely quiet. The silence was deafening, it was ringing in my ears. I was about to get out to check when — BANG! The passenger window exploded. Glass shattered everywhere. A large hand, covered in dark blood, reached inside and ripped the door open as if it was made of paper. Before I could scream, the same hand grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the car. He threw me. Hard. I landed on the ground, meters away from my car. My palms scraped against the asphalt. My dress rode up my thighs. I tried to crawl back, but my body wouldn't move. I was shaking violently. Footsteps. Slow, heavy footsteps coming towards me. He was full of blood. His hands, his forearms, his white shirt — all stained with fresh blood. But he didn't seem hurt. He walked like a predator. Calm. Controlled. Like he owned the night. I couldn't see his face clearly because the full moon was directly behind him. His silhouette was tall and broad. As he got closer, the moonlight finally revealed him. And I forgot how to breathe. He was not wearing a shirt anymore. His chest was bare. His abs were carved, hard, and tense. His skin was fair, almost glowing under the moon, but covered with faint scars that made him look even more dangerous. More manly. His shoulders were wide, his waist narrow. He looked like a statue made for sin. His face was still half in shadow, but I could see his jaw — sharp, clenched. And his eyes — his eyes were not human. They were glowing a deep, burning red. He stopped right in front of me. I was on the ground, looking up at him. He looked down at me like I was his prey. Like I was something he had been hunting for a long time. Then he spoke. His voice was low, rough, and husky. It was the kind of voice that makes your whole body weak. "I want you tonight to be my mate." My lips parted. I couldn't answer. Fear and something else I couldn't name were mixing inside me. He knelt down and grabbed the hem of my dress. With one sharp pull, the thin fabric tore. I gasped, my hands instinctively covering myself. My dress was now half-torn, exposing my skin to the cold night air and to his burning red gaze. His hand was rough, but warm. So warm it burned my cold skin. I could smell blood, but underneath it, I could smell him — wild, masculine, like wet earth and pine trees after rain. It was not a human scent. It was animal. Wolf. I tried to push him away, but my hands were weak. My innocent heart had never felt anything like this. Fear and heat were mixing. I was scared, but a strange part of me didn't want him to stop. His red eyes softened for a second, as if he recognized me. As if he knew me. "Dianne..." he whispered my name. My name that no one had ever said like that. How did he know my name? His face came even closer. I could now see a faint scar on his lip. A scar that made him look even more dangerous, more beautiful. His lips were almost touching mine. I closed my eyes, waiting... Ring... ring... ring... A loud, annoying, familiar sound. Ring... ring... ring... My alarm clock. I jolted awake, sitting straight up in my bed. My chest was heaving up and down. Sweat was dripping down my neck. My blanket was kicked off to the floor. My small dress was twisted around my waist. "Oh, that dream again..." Dianne pressed her hands to her face. Her cheeks were burning hot. It was the same dream. Again. Every single full moon, for the past three months, she dreamed about the same man. The same road. The same moon. The same red eyes. It always felt so real. Too real. She tried to stand up, but her legs were weak. Like jelly. She looked at her hands — they were shaking. The same way they shook in the dream when he grabbed her. She walked to her small kitchen and poured herself cold water. Her apartment was tiny, just one room with a bed, a small table, and a window that faced another building. Nothing special. But tonight, even her small apartment felt different. Cold. As if someone had been there. Dianne touched her waist where he had grabbed her in the dream. Her skin was warm there. Almost as if there was a real handprint. "Stop it, Dianne. It's just a dream," she told herself out loud. But her voice was shaking. She checked her phone. There were three messages from her best friend, Lisa. Lisa: "Girl, you coming to work early? Boss is in a bad mood today. It is a full moon, he is in wolf mode!" Lisa: "Just kidding! But seriously, he is angry. Don't be late!" Lisa: "And girl, wear something decent, not your intern rags. He hates sloppy." Dianne stared at the message. Wolf mode. Full moon. Her heart started beating fast again. The same words from her dream. It was just a coincidence. Of course it was. Lisa always joked about the boss being a wolf because he is scary and possessive about his company. Everyone in Blackwood Corp called him "The Wolf" behind his back. Not because he really was a wolf, but because his last name was Wolfblood — an old mafia family from the north who owned half the city. Wolfblood. Dianne had heard that name since she was a child. The family that had wolf blood in their veins. Not werewolf. Not monster. But real wolf. The kind that runs in the forest, loyal to its pack, dangerous to its enemies. Her professor in mythology once said that the Wolfblood clan was not a myth. That they existed. That they could shift into a real wolf when the full moon was high, or when they found their mate. Mate. The word from her dream again. Dianne quickly changed her clothes. She wore a simple white blouse and a black skirt that reached her knees. Innocent. Professional. She tied her hair into a ponytail. She looked at herself in the mirror one last time. Her cheeks were still red. Her lips were still swollen, as if someone had really kissed her in her dream. She took a deep breath. "Okay, Dianne. It's just a normal day. No wolf. No mate. Just files and coffee." But deep inside, her innocent heart knew — tonight, when she goes to the 30th floor, something would change forever. She was wrong about one thing. It wasn't going to be tonight. It was going to be this morning. An hour later, Dianne was standing in front of a huge glass building in the center of the city. BLACKWOOD CORP. The biggest corporation in the city. Everyone said the owner was dangerous, that no one had ever seen him clearly, that he only came out at night. Dianne was just an intern in the filing department. She had never seen the boss. Until today. "Dianne! The boss wants all files on the 30th floor. Now!" her supervisor shouted. Dianne's heart skipped. The 30th floor was the forbidden floor. No intern was allowed there. She carried the heavy stack of files and took the elevator. Her hands were sweating. The doors opened. The 30th floor was dark. Quiet. Just like in her dream. The only light was coming from the huge window where the morning sun was rising. And there, standing with his back to her, looking at the city — was a man. Tall. Broad shoulders. White shirt sleeves rolled up, revealing strong forearms with faint scars. Dianne's files almost fell. The scent. Rain, smoke, and forest. Slowly, the man turned around. And Dianne's innocent heart stopped beating. It was him. The man from her dream. But his eyes were not red now. They were amber. Golden brown. Like a wolf's eyes. I held the files tighter against my chest like a shield. My heart was beating so fast I thought he could hear it in the quiet room. The man did not move. He just stared at me with those wolf-amber eyes. His gaze was intense, possessive, as if he was memorizing every inch of my face. From my messy ponytail to my trembling lips. "Do you know who I am?" he asked, his voice calm but dangerous. I shook my head. I could not speak. He took a slow step towards me. Then another. The floor made no sound under his expensive shoes. He was tall, so tall that I had to look up. Up close, he was even more handsome than in my dream. His white shirt was crisp, but the top two buttons were open, revealing a glimpse of his scarred chest. His jaw was sharp, his lips thin but sensual. And his scent — that wild rain and forest scent — was stronger now. It was intoxicating. "I am Wildolfo," he said, stopping just a foot away from me. "Your boss." Wildolfo. I finally found my voice, small and shaking. "I... I am Dianne the intern .from filing..." "I know," he cut me off, his amber eyes darkening. "I know your name, Dianne. I have known it for a long time. Longer than you think. He reached out, slowly, as if he was afraid I would run. His fingers, long and calloused, brushed a strand of hair that had fallen from my ponytail. His touch was electric. Warm. My skin shivered. "You smell like mine," he whispered, leaning down slightly, his breath warm against my ear. "You have always smelled like mine."