Chapter 33

Esther’s POV

The job notice was little more than a scrap of paper, tacked crookedly to the tavern door, the ink already bleeding from rain.

At least it was something. It was the only lifeline thrown into the chaos of my life.

I pulled the hood of my jacket lower, hiding my face as I scanned the words: Help wanted at the apothecary. Laborer. Urgent. It wasn’t glamorous or rewarding for someone like me, but it was legal and reliable.

It was a way to keep Carl’s treatment and medicines coming without interruption.

My stomach tightened. Carl’s treatments weren’t cheap. Miss a payment, and the hospital might pull back entirely. The thought made bile rise. I couldn’t let my son suffer because of my failures.

I stepped off the muddy curb, ignoring the drunks spilling into the streets. My pace quickened. The apothecary was twelve blocks away, but the streets weren’t safe for a woman alone. Not someone like me. Whispers followed me everywhere I went. They were scandals, rumors, and disgrace.

Still, I squared my shoulders. I had survived worse. I could survive tonight.

I didn’t make it far.

A shadow detached itself from an alley, then another. Two men, ragged and smelling of cheap spirits, stepped into my path.

“Well, well,” one slurred, teeth yellow and crooked. “Look what wandered into our street.”

My heart thudded painfully. I gripped the strap of my satchel, hoping to pass unnoticed. “I don’t want trouble,” I said.

“Oh, but we do,” the taller one sneered, stepping closer. The stench of him made bile rise in my throat. “A pretty thing like you shouldn’t be walking alone at night. Dangerous world.”

I spun to continue past them, but another figure blocked the road behind me. Three. Panic surged through me. My pulse spiked, my stomach clenched.

“Get out of my way,” I snapped, forcing my voice to hold steady. Sharon, my wolf, would have lent me strength—but she was dormant, silent. All I had was myself, two children waiting at home, and a heartbeat of fear that refused to quiet.

“Feisty,” the first man laughed, his fingers reaching for my cloak. I slapped his hand away. His grin widened, cruel and sharp. “Oh, we like feisty.”

I tried to run. One grabbed my arm, yanking me back with enough force to rattle my teeth. I clawed, kicked, and bit, desperate to break free. He laughed, twisting my wrist until a sharp cry escaped my lips.

“Hold her,” he barked to the others. Rough hands clamped onto my shoulders. My blood ran cold.

“Don’t—please don’t—”

The night split open.

A low growl, deep and commanding, cut through the darkness like a blade.

The rogues froze. My heart stopped.

He was there. It was Nicholas.

His presence hit like a crashing wave. Alpha power radiated off him, heavy and undeniable, stealing my breath. His eyes burned in the darkness. Cedar and smoke wrapped around him, thick and intoxicating.

“Let her go,” he said, voice absolute, final. Death itself seemed to lurk behind the words.

The rogues hesitated, the fools. In a blur, Nicholas moved. Claws raked through the air. Blood sprayed. Men crumpled before they even realized what was happening.

My knees buckled. I stumbled back, clutching my wrist, bile rising. Relief should have washed over me. Instead, I felt trapped, cornered again by the intensity of his presence.

When the last one fell, Nicholas turned to me. His hands were red, and his chest was heaving. His gaze didn’t waver.

It never did.

“Are you hurt?” he demanded.

I shook my head, taking a step back. “I didn’t ask you to save me.”

His eyes narrowed, fury flickering in the darkness.

“And if I hadn’t, they would have—” His growl rumbled low, cutting off the sentence. “You’re reckless. Walking alone like this? Do you have no sense of self-preservation?”

Something inside me snapped. “Do you think I want to be out here begging for work? I have a family to take care of. I have to do everything I can.”

Nicholas’s jaw clenched.

“You won’t change my mind,” I spat, voice trembling. “And then you swoop in, acting like my savior. I won’t play your game. I won’t crawl back.”

The bond between us thrummed, sharp and relentless. For a moment, it felt like it might shatter me. His presence pressed down, suffocating, irresistible, and I tore my gaze away, clutching my satchel like a lifeline.

“I don’t want your rescue,” I whispered, and turned from him, forcing my legs to move before my emotions betrayed me.

I kept walking. Faster, longer, ignoring the trembling in my legs, the echo of his growl still ringing in my ears. My wrist throbbed where they had grabbed me. My satchel felt heavy with the weight of all I carried—food, medicine, coins, my life—and still I pushed on.

Nicholas’s presence hovered in the shadows of my mind. I could feel it, a predator’s gaze, waiting, hunting, watching me. My stomach twisted with equal parts fear and something darker—recognition, an impossible pull I hated.

I couldn’t stop. Couldn’t turn. Not until I reached the apothecary. My hands shook as I rapped on the door, breath coming in uneven bursts. The smell of herbs, tinctures, and dried flowers greeted me like a promise. I needed work. I needed survival. I needed life for Carl.

The door opened, and I stepped inside, heart still hammering. The warmth of the apothecary wrapped around me, but Nicholas’s shadow lingered in my mind. I could almost feel his claws on my spine, his gaze boring into me, reminding me: I was his, whether I wanted it or not.

Sharon stirred faintly, awakened by the tension in the air. A low, growling hum resonated from deep inside me. She was there, aware of the danger I hadn’t let him see, ready to defend the children if needed. But tonight… tonight, I had to survive on my own.

I forced a deep breath. I could not let him control me, not here, not now. Not when my children depended on me.

And yet, somewhere deep, I knew this rescue was only the beginning.

Nicholas would not let me go. And the night had only just begun.

Nicholas’s POV

Her words cut deeper than any blade.

I stood there, chest heaving, as her figure retreated into the night. Her jacket was drawn tight as though shielding herself from me, her mate, from me.

Norman snarled inside me, restless and impatient. She lies. She needs us. She always needs us.

I wiped the blood from my claws. It didn’t matter. Her fear clung to me, sharp and acrid.

I had saved her, and she looked at me like I was the danger.

“Ungrateful,” I muttered. But the anger dissolved under something heavier, something I hated admitting: fear.

For six years, I had believed her gone. Dead. She had been a ghost haunting my every thought for years now.

Here she was, in the flesh, walking alone through the streets, vulnerable, carrying herself through danger while sustaining Kevin’s bastard children.

I stopped the thought there, jaw aching. I couldn’t allow myself to soften.

She had made her choice. Kevin’s children. Kevin’s life.

I remembered the terror on her face. The cry that tore from her throat as the rogues grabbed her. The trembling of her wrists in my hands. Something twisted painfully in me.

I could have chained her, forced her to accept my protection, demanded she submit. But the way she recoiled, the way she looked at me, it was worse than rejection.

It was defiance.

I turned to the corpses at my feet. Norman prowled beside me, restless. We should not have let her walk away.

“She doesn’t want me,” I whispered.

She is our mate. She belongs to us.

My chest constricted. I looked down the street where she’d disappeared, the bond pulling at my chest like a living thing, tightening, demanding.

“I’ll make her see,” I vowed, low and dangerous. A promise to the night itself. “If it takes breaking her pride… if it takes destroying every wall she’s built, I’ll make her see she can’t run from me.”

The rogues’ blood soaked the cobblestones. The smell was sharp, metallic, acrid. I didn’t flinch. I turned, vanished into the shadows, following the faint trail of her scent, the bond humming like a drum in my chest.