Chapter 2 One Night Stand With Mr. Stranger

DAHLIA

Cold water splashed against my face, dragging me violently out of the darkness. My lashes fluttered open, and the first thing I saw were those haunting doe eyes, the same ones that had tormented me my entire life.

Sienna.

She was kneeling beside me, holding an empty bowl, her lips curved into a cruel smile.

The memory of what I’d heard before passing out slammed back into my mind.

I wished I could close my eyes and never wake again.

Kael’s expression was cold, void of the warmth. His jaw was set, his stare sharp enough to slice through my soul.

“Can you see the stress you’ve caused Sienna?” Kael snapped, his voice rising with anger. “She’s carrying the pack’s heir, something you couldn’t do in two years, Dahlia!”

My heart lurched. The words stung worse than claws.

Sienna’s hand slid up his chest in mock comfort. “It’s okay, Kael,” she said sweetly, though her tone dripped with satisfaction. “She’s not worth your anger. Let her go.”

Her fingers lingered possessively on him, and my stomach twisted.

I staggered to my feet, trembling but determined not to break in front of them.

“I, Dahlia Johnson…” My voice shook, but I forced the words out. “Accept your rejection.”

A sharp pain tore through my chest, spreading like wildfire. The mate's bond, sacred and powerful, snapped in half, and for a moment, I thought I'd die from the agony. My wolf whimpered inside me, but I bit down on my lip until I tasted blood.

Sienna smirked, her green eyes glowing with triumph. “Leave, Dahlia. Before the Alpha loses his temper again.”

I didn’t reply. I turned and walked away.

I didn’t cry, not until I was far from them, far from the packhouse that had never been home. My tears blurred the road ahead, but I kept walking, each step fueled by pain and humiliation.

I had nowhere to go. No one to turn to.

Except… the city.

The Mask Club.

A place where names didn’t matter, only faces hidden behind masks. By the time I arrived, my feet ached, and my heart even more so. The club pulsed with wild music and flashing lights. Wolves, humans, rogues everyone mingled, lost in anonymity.

I grabbed a mask from the entrance and slipped it on. Tonight, I wouldn’t be Dahlia, the ugly daughter of the Beta. I’d just be another nameless soul trying to forget.

I headed straight to the bar. “Vodka,” I ordered.

The bartender gave me a quick look, then poured a glass and slid it toward me. I downed it in one gulp, wincing as the burn scorched my throat.

“Another,” I said, pushing the glass forward.

He refilled it. I was halfway through my second when a deep, magnetic voice came from behind me.

“Don’t you think it’s a little early to be drowning your pain in vodka?”

I turned slightly, eyes narrowing behind my mask. A tall man with broad shoulders, a dark suit, and a black mask leaned casually against the counter. Even hidden, his presence commanded attention.

“It’s not about the time,” I muttered, turning back to my drink. “It’s about forgetting.”

He chuckled, the sound low and smooth. “What if I could help you forget… better than alcohol ever could?”

I froze, glancing at him. “And what exactly do you mean by that?”

He took a seat beside me, close enough that I caught his scent, it was a mix of cedar, smoke, and something darker. Dangerous. “I need someone to get lost with tonight,” he said softly. “No names. No faces. Just a little escape.”

My breath caught. I knew what he was offering. And maybe I should’ve said no. But I didn’t.

“You wouldn’t say that if you saw what’s behind this mask,” I said quietly, my fingers brushing the edge of it.

“I don’t care,” he replied simply. “I can already see you’re beautiful.”

I laughed bitterly. “You don’t even know what I look like.”

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper that made my heart skip. “I don’t have to.”

Something inside me broke, or maybe it awakened. Without another word, I placed my hand in his. His fingers were warm, firm, and steady.

He led me outside to a sleek black car, It was long and gleaming, and expensive enough to make me pause. He opened the door for me, and for once in my life, someone treated me gently.

Minutes later, we pulled up to a quiet luxury hotel. The air between us was thick with something neither of us named.

Inside the room, everything was quiet except for the muffled hum of the city below. Soft golden light spilled across the floor from the window, bathing the room in a kind of glow that made it feel far away from reality.

He turned toward me slowly, giving me the chance to step back if I wanted. I didn’t.

His hand brushed mine, just barely, and it was enough to make my breath catch. His skin was warm and steady, like an anchor pulling me out of the chaos in my chest.

He reached up and traced a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering for a heartbeat too long.

I closed my eyes.

For the first time in years, I didn’t flinch from someone’s touch.

He laid me down gently, as though I might break if he wasn’t careful. His hands moved slowly, tracing paths along my thighs that made my breath catch and my heart race. He found my core and handled it gently; a soft moan escaped my lips.

The space between us disappeared was replaced by heat, longing, and something I couldn’t name. His movements were firm yet tender, full of a quiet reverence that made me tremble.

For the first time, I didn’t feel unwanted. I didn’t feel ugly or broken.

I felt seen and alive.

The world beyond that room faded until there was only us, two strangers, lost in a moment that felt like forever.

I exhaled the moment it was over, wanting to adjust myself and leave. But his voice stopped me again.

Just… take off the mask,” he said softly.

I froze, meeting his eyes. There was a gentle authority in his voice, a quiet strength that made me want to obey. Slowly, almost hesitantly, I lifted the mask.

He took me in, his gaze lingering on every feature as if he were memorizing me.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, his hand brushing my cheek with the gentlest touch. My eyes dropped.

“You don’t have to lie to me,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.

“I’m not lying,” he said, his thumb brushing along my skin. “I see you, the real you… scar and all. You’re beautiful.”

Then he removed his own mask, and my breath caught. The man before me was breathtaking, but it wasn’t just his looks, it was the warmth in his eyes, the way he was looking at me.

He leaned closer, resting his forehead against mine, his hands cradling my face. “I promise,” he murmured, his voice low and tender, “you’re more beautiful than you realize.”

My heart thumped against my chest as he held me there, so present, so loving, that the world outside disappeared.

Sleep came easily, but peace never lasts. When I woke the next morning, sunlight streamed through the curtains. The sheets beside me were cold and empty.

He was gone.

There was no note, no name, and no trace.

Just the faint scent of his cologne lingering in the air, dark and addictive.

I sat up slowly, my heart heavy. A part of me wanted to cry, but I stopped myself. That night had been an illusion, a fleeting taste of what I’d never truly have.

Tears burned behind my eyes, but I blinked them away.

No more weakness. No more begging for love that was never meant for me.

“I’ll never be her again,” I whispered to my reflection. “Never the ugly daughter of the Beta. Never the broken girl they pitied.”

For the first time, my voice didn’t shake.

I touched my scar not with shame, but with resolve.

From that day on, the old Dahlia died.

And something new was born.