Chapter 30

Nicholas’s POV

The park was a cacophony of distant laughter, rustling leaves, and the faint hum of traffic from the nearby streets. I had planned to walk, clear my head, and let the crisp autumn air cut through the tension that clung to me like a second skin.

Norman prowled at the edges, restless, keyed into the shifting rhythms of the city, always alert.

I wasn’t expecting a small child to collide with me.

“Oops! I’m sorry!” a tiny voice squeaked.

I looked down and froze. A little girl, no more than six with light brown hair in soft waves, eyes wide and hazel, stared back at me. She seemed startled, but not frightened. She was curious, hesitant, and familiar in a way that made my chest tighten.

“Are you okay?” I asked automatically, lowering to her level, my voice softer than I had intended. It caught me off guard even as I said it. My wolf stirred, puzzled, and I ignored the sudden pang of protectiveness that curled around me like fire.

“I… I think so,” she murmured. Her small hands pressed against her chest as though she were trying to contain the world inside herself. She didn’t know me, but something about her—her posture, the way she watched me—struck a chord deep inside.

“Where’s your mom or dad?” I asked gently, scanning the park. Children were rarely left alone, not in a city like this, not unsupervised. Norman grumbled low in my chest, sensing the small threat to her safety even if I couldn’t yet articulate it.

She hesitated, lips trembling, and shook her head. “I… I don’t know.”

My chest tightened. Panic flared, not for her, but for the gnawing, inexplicable feeling of recognition I couldn’t place. The wide, innocent eyes were so familiar, so achingly like someone I had loved and lost. They mirrored something in me that I couldn’t name.

My wolf pressed against my ribs, restless and confused. I had to protect her. That much was instinctual, undeniable, and consuming.

“Okay,” I said, voice steadying, “we’re going to figure this out. I’ll make sure you’re safe.”

She nodded, clinging to my hand with surprising trust. My wolf purred softly, still alert, still cautious, but a little comforted. I didn’t understand why, but my chest had loosened a fraction. This child, a small, delicate, and innocent thing, made me feel warmth.

It was a strange, alien warmth that I hadn’t felt in years.

“Do you know where your home is?” I asked, walking carefully along the path. “Any landmarks? Your parents’ address? School?”

“I… I was playing,” she whispered. “Then I saw the ducks, and… and I forgot where Mommy said to wait.”

My chest clenched. Her voice, fragile and scared, tugged at something inside me that I had thought long dead. I hated feeling this pull because I had no idea why it existed. I couldn’t deny it though.

“Okay,” I said softly, crouching down to her level again. “I’m Nicholas. We’ll figure this out together, alright?”

“Okay.” Her voice was small, but there was a flicker of relief in her eyes. She had clung to me almost instinctively, and my wolf hummed approval. I couldn’t explain.

The child’s presence brought a strange clarity and an unfamiliar, compelling sense of purpose.

I wrapped the girl in my coat as a precaution against the chill, and she rested against my side, small and light, but the heartbeat beneath my ribs quickened.

There was something achingly familiar about her, something that twisted my chest into knots I couldn’t untangle.

The walk to the car was careful and slow, my senses heightened. My wolf prowled inside me, restless, unsure. Something about this child made the air around me hum.

“Can you tell me anything that might help us find your parents?”

“Um… We were going on a walk for dinner. Mommy works at the hospital.”

“Okay, we’ll start there.”

When we reached the hospital, I had barely noticed the way her small fingers trembled in mine. Nurses approached with professional curiosity, noting the lone child in my custody. I kept my gaze steady, unwavering, asserting my authority with a calm I didn’t entirely feel.

“She’s fine,” I told them, voice low but firm. “She’s lost, not injured. She says her mom works here.”

The nurses nodded and followed my instructions. I could feel their subtle scrutiny, their quiet recognition that I wasn’t someone to argue with.

Then I saw her. My chest twisted in a way I hadn’t expected.

Esther ran up to the hospital, eyes wide, shoulders stiff, every muscle in her body radiating protective fire. When she saw Sofia, her face transformed. Horror, fury, panic, and relief all collided in a storm that made my wolf howl softly in confusion.

Esther lunged forward, ripping Sofia from my arms as though I were some monster. The action was swift, precise, and devastating in its emotional impact.

“Mommy!” Sofia cried, reaching out, but Esther held her close, arms tight around her like a shield.

I froze, stunned by the intensity of Esther’s reaction. She glared at me as though I had done the unspeakable, as though I were the embodiment of every fear she had ever had. The fury in her eyes, the rigid set of her jaw, the wild edge of her panic was unlike anything I had ever seen directed at me.

“Esther…” I said softly, stepping back, hands raised in surrender. “I—”

“You monster!” she spat, voice trembling with rage. “How dare you! Get away from her!”

I swallowed, heart hammering. Why was she so terrified? Why did her presence, the sight of her, make my chest ache in a way I hadn’t anticipated?

Sofia clung to her mother, glancing at me with wide, frightened eyes. I felt a strange protective pull, a desperate need to ensure she was safe, that she was unharmed. The warmth I had felt earlier pushed against the raw edges of my anger and frustration.

Esther’s glare didn’t waver. She held Sofia like a weapon, a shield, and I realized—half in awe, half in terror—that she feared me. Not as a man, not as a stranger, but as Nicholas Crawford. As someone who had touched her past, someone whose presence alone could ignite a storm she wasn’t ready to face.

I didn’t understand why the child made me ache. Why the daughter of this woman, this impossible woman, made my chest tighten in ways I hadn’t experienced since losing… everything. And why Esther’s fear, so raw and palpable, sent my wolf into a frenzy of alert, confusion, and unacknowledged longing.

Esther’s glare didn’t soften, not even a fraction. Sofia’s small hand reached for me one last time before Esther pulled her closer, and I felt the sting of loss. That little girl was not mine to claim, not mine to bear, yet it burned nonetheless.

I stepped back, unsettled, my wolf pacing within me, alert and restless. I exhaled slowly, controlling the urge to storm out, and to unravel in ways I hadn’t allowed myself in years.

Sofia was safe, for now. And yet, the ache in my chest, the inexplicable warmth, and the fear and fury in Esther’s eyes wouldn’t leave me.

I didn’t know why the little girl felt familiar. I didn’t know why my chest twisted at her presence. I didn’t know why Esther’s fear and rage clawed at me like fire. But I knew this: nothing about this encounter was ordinary, and nothing about it would leave my life unchanged.