Eileen’s POV
A startled gasp tore from my lips as Adrian’s massive hand clamped around my wrist, the sudden force jerking me forward.
Our eyes collided.
His dark pupils were blown wide—a starving predator who had finally cornered his prey. My pulse hammered a frantic rhythm against his palm. Got him.
But I wasn't about to make this easy for him. Shrinking back, I forced a violent tremble into my shoulders. "Adrian... you're hurting me," I whispered. Pitching my voice into a fragile, broken tremor, I gave a pathetic tug against his iron grip.
As I shifted, my elbow slipped off the edge of the mattress, jabbing dead-center into his fresh wound.
A harsh, guttural groan tore from his throat. His corded muscles locked up instantly, the sharp spike of pain shattering the heavy, suffocating lust thickening the air between us.
He stared down at me, his chest heaving. I immediately went wide-eyed, letting a glossy sheen of unshed tears pool in my lashes. The perfect picture of a terrified, innocent rabbit.
Guilt fractured his dark gaze.
He reached out again, and I flinched, keeping up the act. But his rough fingers didn't grab me this time. Instead, they ghosted over the angry red mark blooming on my pale wrist. His massive hand was actually shaking.
"...Sorry," he rasped out.
I could see the brutal war raging inside him—like some primal beast was barely being kept on its leash. Snatching his shirt from the mattress, he ignored the half-applied ointment on his wound and shoved his broad shoulders into the dark fabric.
At the door, he paused. "I won't hurt you," he muttered hoarsely.
The door clicked shut.
I stared at the empty space he’d left behind. My racing heart didn't settle into the triumphant, calculated rhythm I had expected. Instead, it hammered with a strange, unfamiliar flutter. Rubbing my wrist, the ghost of his gentle touch completely wiped away the phantom pain.
About twenty minutes later, a sharp knock broke the silence. A tall man in a crisp dark suit stepped inside. It was Zane, Adrian’s right-hand man. He was holding a sleek little box.
“Miss Evans,” he greeted politely, setting the box on the nightstand. “This is for you.”
I popped the lid open. Inside sat a top-of-the-line smartphone. I blinked in surprise.
“Mr. Vance asked me to drop this off,” Zane explained. “Your previous phone didn't survive the fire.”
I hesitated for a beat before asking carefully, “Does… Mr. Vance have a private number? I feel terrible,” I added quickly. “He got hurt saving me. I wanted to check in on him later.”
Zane’s lips twitched into a faint smile. “You don’t need to worry about that.” He nodded at the device. “Mr. Vance already programmed his number in.”
My fingers stalled on the sleek screen.
“He also asked me to pass along a message,” Zane continued, his tone smooth as glass. “No matter what kind of trouble you run into, Miss Evans, you can call him. Anytime.”
For a moment, I was speechless. “…Thank you.”
After Zane left, the ward settled into quiet once more. Soon after, a nurse wheeled in dinner—a steaming bowl of seafood porridge. I sat cross-legged on the bed, eating mechanically, but my mind was miles away.
Adrian’s face kept flashing behind my eyes. The way he’d charged into that inferno without a second thought. The way he’d fiercely defended me earlier. And that strange, electrifying restlessness that had hijacked my body when we were pressed together just now.
My White Wolf had reacted. Hard. It was too strong to just be basic attraction. It was as if… she had recognized something.
Right on cue, the new phone buzzed on the nightstand. An unsaved number flashed across the screen. I picked it up, seamlessly slipping back into character.
"Alpha... about just now—" I murmured, making my voice sweet and breathy.
"Alpha?!" an ear-piercing voice shrieked through the speaker. "Who the hell is 'Alpha', Eileen?!"
I froze. Winnie.
My mind went completely blank. I opened my mouth, scrambling for an excuse. "Winnie? I... it's not..."
"Don't you dare try to play dumb with me!" Winnie cut me off, practically vibrating with excitement. "I saw the news!"
My heart skipped a beat. "The news...?"
"Yes! 'Vance CEO Injured Saving Mystery Woman from Factory Fire!' The footage is literally everywhere!" Winnie squealed. "I’d recognize your ass anywhere! Now spill the tea!"
I rubbed my throbbing temples, blowing out a heavy sigh. “Sorry. I just didn’t want you to panic.”
Winnie sighed dramatically. “Explain. From the top. Right now.”
So, I laid it all out. The kidnapping. Chris leaving me to burn. Adrian showing up out of nowhere like some dark avenging angel.
But halfway through the retelling, the words died in my throat. “…Actually, Win, this isn’t the first time someone pulled me back from the brink,” I murmured.
My mind drifted back years ago. I’d been on a brutal bounty hunter mission that went south, leaving me knocking on death's door. Bleeding out and desperate, I’d holed up in a rotting cabin deep in the mountains.
That was when he crashed in. A man running from his own demons, bleeding just as badly as I was.
For days, we were trapped in that cramped space, relying on nothing but each other to survive. And somewhere in the pitch-black of those quiet nights… something soft and undeniable had taken root between us.
But fate had been a cruel bitch. I’d been laced with wolfsbane during the ambush. It wreaked havoc on my nervous system, killing my sense of smell and warping my hearing. From start to finish, his face had been a blur in the dark, and I couldn't even memorize his scent.
The only tangible proof he existed was the pack crest carved into his flesh. One night, while patching up his wounds, my fingers had grazed it. I had traced every ridge and line like a blind woman reading braille.
I made a silent vow back then: if I ever crossed paths with him again, I would repay the life he gave me.
So, when the Evans family dragged me back years later and shoved a marriage contract with Chris in my face, I’d spotted that exact same crest on him. I thought he was my savior. That was the only reason I said 'I do.'
A bitter, self-deprecating smile twisted my lips. “But he wasn't. Chris was never the guy in the cabin. He’s just a selfish, spineless coward.”
“…So what are you saying?” Winnie asked, her tone dropping its playful edge.
I stared at the phone in my hand, my eyes locking onto the only contact saved in the device: Adrian Vance.
“I'm saying… I think I just got a hell of a lot closer to finding the real one.”
The next morning, Zane waltzed in like clockwork. First with a gourmet breakfast, and then later with lunch.
“Prepared exclusively by the Vance estate's head chef,” he announced smoothly.
I blinked at the lavish spread. “Zane, this is overkill.”
“Mr. Vance insists.” As he arranged the plates, Zane casually dropped a bomb. “Mr. Vance was exceptionally displeased with how things went down yesterday.”
I paused, my fork hovering in mid-air.
“He ordered Chris to report back to the Vance family’s main estate.” Zane’s tone was polite, but his eyes gleamed with a deadly calm. “Tonight is shaping up to be… highly entertaining.”
After he left, I sat motionless on the edge of the mattress, my mind racing a mile a minute.
For years, I had pledged my loyalty to the wrong man. But now, the truth was finally within grabbing distance. And this time, come hell or high water, I wasn't going to let it slip through my fingers.
A nurse bustled in for my afternoon rounds. “Your vitals are looking great. You're healing up nicely,” she chirped.
I caught her gaze. “I need to be discharged. Today.”
She blinked, taken aback. “Oh, honey, no. The doctor recommends at least two more days of bed rest—”
I slowly shook my head, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. “I appreciate it, but I have somewhere I need to be.”
“Where could be that important right now?”
Turning my gaze toward the window, I set my jaw. My voice was calm, but forged in steel.
“The Vance family estate.”