Chapter 7: My Mate

As soon as the police station came into view, Estella didn't wait for the car to come to a full stop. She pushed the door open and jumped out, landing with a stumble before straightening herself.

"Thank you for helping me," she said quickly, barely sparing the driver another glance before taking off in the direction he had told her.

Her heart pounded as she neared the train station. The uniformed guard stood at the entrance, eyeing the people passing through. She didn't have a ticket, and there was no way she could afford one. She had no time to think—only act. Summoning the last bit of her strength, she dashed forward, her speed catching the guard off guard.

"Hey! Stop—"

But before he could react, she was already past him, weaving through the crowd. She ignored the protests, slipping into the nearest train car and pressing herself into the shadows. Her breathing was ragged, but she had made it.

The journey felt endless. She didn't sleep—she couldn't. Each passing second carried her farther from danger and closer to Skyfire City. When the train finally pulled into the station, she barely had the energy to move. But she had to.

Stepping onto the platform, she took a deep breath of the city air. Skyfire City. She had made it. But now what?

She had no idea where to find the Northern Pack. No contacts, no map, and worst of all—no money. She wandered the streets for days, hoping for any sign, any clue, but the city was vast and unfamiliar. Hunger gnawed at her stomach, and exhaustion weighed her down.

By the end of the week, she had become little more than a beggar, relying on scraps from kind strangers. Each night, she curled up in alleyways or under bridges, her body growing weaker by the day. Her wound still hadn't fully healed, and the pain was a constant reminder of how vulnerable she was.

One evening, as she staggered through the streets, dizziness clouded her vision. Her legs felt like lead, her head heavy. She barely noticed where she was walking—until a loud screech filled the air.

A car was speeding toward her.

The driver slammed the brakes, and the tires screeched against the asphalt. The vehicle stopped just inches from her, but Estella didn't react. The shock from the car almost hitting her, the hunger, the exhaustion—it was all too much.

Her knees buckled. The world spun around her.And then—darkness. She collapsed.

.......

CRASSUS POV

Crassus had just left the Werewolf Council meeting, his mind weighed down by the discussions of alliances and upcoming threats. His hands gripped the steering wheel as he navigated the road through the dense forest, the moon casting a silver glow over the road. He exhaled, exhaustion creeping into his bones. Then, out of nowhere, he saw a woman walking in the middle of the road.

Crassus cursed and slammed his foot on the brake, the tires screeching against the pavement. The car came to a sudden stop, his heart pounding in his chest.

"What the hell—" he muttered, already reaching for the door.

He stepped out, eyes scanning the figure collapsed on the road. She had fainted. His sharp gaze took in her delicate frame, the way her chest rose and fell in shallow breaths. Her scent, unfamiliar yet intoxicating, wrapped around him like a warm embrace.

And then—he felt it.

A jolt, like lightning striking through his very soul.

Mate.

His wolf, Arric, howled in his mind.

"We found her! Crassus, we finally found her!"

Crassus stood frozen, staring at the unconscious woman as realization hit him. He was twenty-eight. Twelve years had passed since he should have been able to feel the bond, yet it had never happened. He had waited, hoped, and then, eventually, he had given up.

His pack had started pressuring him to take a chosen mate, to marry one of the mateless female wolves and secure his lineage. He had begun considering it, convincing himself that maybe the Moon Goddess had simply not fated him to have a mate.

And now, here she was.

His.

Disbelief warred with a sudden, overwhelming need to protect her. His hands clenched into fists before he forced himself to kneel beside her, his fingers hesitating just before touching her pale cheek. Warm. Soft. Real.

Arric growled impatiently.

"Pick her up! Take her home! She's ours!"

Crassus swallowed hard, his body tense with unfamiliar emotions. He had spent over a decade believing he would never find this woman, and now she had quite literally thrown herself into his path.

Slowly, carefully, he slid his arms beneath her, lifting her into his embrace. She felt fragile yet right against his chest, her scent stirring something possessive within him.

He looked down at her face, at the delicate features that now belonged to him.

Crassus carried the unconscious girl into his mansion, his grip on her firm yet careful. The moment he stepped inside, his instinct was to summon a maid to tend to her, but as he opened his mouth, he stopped. The thought of another person's hands on her—even if it was just for aid—sent an irrational surge of possessiveness through him. He clenched his jaw.

She was his mate. The one he had given up on ever finding. And now that she was here, wounded, vulnerable, he could not entrust her to anyone else.

With measured steps, he took her to a room. Gently, he laid her on the bed, his eyes scanning her battered form. A storm brewed within him.

Who had dared to hurt her like this? He exhaled sharply, suppressing the snarl that rose in his throat. She needed to be cleaned and treated. He knew what he was about to do was wrong—she was unconscious, unable to give consent—but he could not bear to leave her like this.

Carefully, he peeled away her tattered clothes, each movement controlled, though his hands trembled with restrained rage. The sight of her wounds only fueled the fire inside him. Scars, fresh cuts, bruises blooming along her delicate skin—each one proving how much she had suffered. His fingers curled into fists, the beast within him roaring to seek retribution.