(William)
While I was looking around, trying to find what I needed, I suddenly heard a cold and firm voice coming from behind me saying, "What are you looking for?"
The voice was so unexpected that it sent a chill down my spine, and I flinched slightly before turning around. The man standing there immediately created an immense sense of distance, even without saying anything more. He was tall and strongly built, the kind of person who naturally drew attention wherever he stood, even if he didn't try to.
His broad shoulders were covered by a dark leather jacket, almost black, which made his already intimidating presence feel even heavier and more restrictive.
His hair was messy, slightly wavy, thick and completely black. Despite the disorganized look, there was something undeniably attractive about him—a rugged, sharp sort of charm that felt entirely unstudied. However, what truly caught my attention, making me freeze in place, were his eyes. They were deep, sea-blue, yet completely devoid of warmth.
His gaze was calm but sharp enough to feel like it could cut through anything, carrying a coldness that reminded me of the bottom of a dark ocean where no light could ever reach.
A faint shadow of a beard surrounded his strong jaw, making his face look even more severe.
His sharp jawline, paired with thick, heavy eyebrows, gave him a naturally serious expression, as if he had long forgotten how to smile. Even his facial muscles seemed unfamiliar with such a simple, human thing.
Anyone standing near him would immediately feel it; this was a man who spoke without speaking, whose silence carried an unbearable weight and whose gaze felt almost cold enough to physically touch.
It was as if he had stepped away from the world long ago, like someone who didn't belong among regular people, yet there was clearly a deep, dark story hidden behind that wall of ice.
I swallowed nervously, forcing the air back into my lungs, and managed to speak. "I-I'm looking for Fenrir."
The man simply nodded once, his expression unchanging, before replying, "I am here. What do you need?"
For a moment, my mind went blank as I realized this intimidating, towering man was Fenrir himself. Trying to stay calm, even though the tremor in my voice betrayed my fear, I said, "W-Well… Jasmine needs an awning. She asked me to get it. She said she'll pay later."
Fenrir didn't react much to the request. He just reached under the heavy wooden table and pulled out an old brown notebook, flipping through the worn pages with practiced ease until he found Jasmine's name.
After making a quick, silent note with his pencil, he stood up to his full, towering height and handed me the heavy fabric of the awning, saying shortly, "Okay, here."
I quickly thanked him, took it into my arms, and left as fast as I could without making it completely obvious that I was practically escaping his presence.
There was something about him that made me incredibly uneasy—maybe he wasn't openly dangerous in that exact moment, but he definitely looked like someone who could be capable of anything if pushed
After giving the awning to Jasmine, I moved over to Eric, who immediately noticed my pale face and nervous expression. He chuckled softly as he said, "You met him, didn't you?"
I nodded quickly, still trying to calm my racing heart.
Eric sighed, crossing his arms over his chest while saying, "He always looks like that… how should I say… like a terrible, dangerous person, but he's actually a good man, don't worry."
Still thoroughly confused and shaken, I asked, "Then why does he look so… cold? Like he hates the very air he breathes?"
At that moment, Eric's expression completely changed.The usual lightness and playful energy on Eric's face disappeared, replaced by something much heavier, something profoundly sad.
He spoke more quietly this time, leaning in so his voice wouldn't carry across the market. "Years ago, there was a terrible fire in his house. An electrical problem. He managed to get out, but his whole family didn't… they all burned in there."
Hearing that made my chest tighten painfully, and I didn't know what to say. The sheer weight of that horror hung between us. Eric continued after a brief, somber pause, "The only one left alive is his aunt, Felicy.
She moved to the city about three years ago because she couldn't stand the memories, but Fenrir refused to leave that house. He still lives there, right in the middle of what's left."
I let out a slow, heavy breath and murmured, "I understand now."
Eric nodded seriously before adding a final warning, "Just don't mention it to him, and don't apologize either if you talk to him. He absolutely hates that. He wants to forget it as much as he can, even if it's impossible."
I nodded, absorbing his words, and returned to work, but my thoughts were no longer on the plants or the customers.I couldn't stop thinking about him.
Sometimes, without realizing it, I found myself glancing toward his area across the market. A few times, I caught him looking at me too, his deep blue eyes locked onto mine, only for him to quickly look away as if nothing had happened.
I had lost my own family before, so I knew the hollow ache of grief, but this… this was something else entirely, a violent trauma carved into his very soul.
And somehow, despite the coldness, the distance, and the fear he inspired at first, it made me feel something different. It wasn't fear anymore, but a quiet, growing thought that maybe, just maybe, we shared a brokenness that could allow us to be friends.
Later, while Jasmine and Eric continued handling the heavy influx of sales at the market stall, I decided to take a short break. My stomach had been growling for a while, and after spending hours helping demanding customers,I desperately wanted something sweet to eat.
Looking around the busy street, my eyes landed on a small, charming pastry shop not far from our stall. The heavenly smell of fresh bread and caramelized sugar drifted through the air every time the door opened, pulling me in.
I told Jasmine that I would be back in a few minutes and started walking towards the shop, glad for a moment of peace.
The little brass bell above the door chimed softly as I stepped inside. The bakery was incredibly warm compared to the cool evening air creeping into the town outside. The rich, enveloping scent of vanilla, cinnamon, and freshly baked dough filled every corner of the room.
Rows of perfect pastries lined the glass display cases, from glazed donuts to fruit-filled cakes and golden, braided buns. Despite how inviting and cozy the place looked, there was something strange about it. There was absolutely no one behind the counter.
I waited for a moment, shifting my weight and expecting someone to appear from the kitchen, but the shop remained completely silent.
I looked around, clearing my throat, and called out carefully, "Hello?"At that exact moment, a loud, chaotic rattling sound came from directly behind the wooden counter.
The entire structure shook slightly, vibrating the glass cases. A second later, someone suddenly emerged from underneath it, popping up like a jack-in-the-box.
"Ouch—"
The man let out a low curse under his breath while rubbing the top of his head with a grimace. Apparently, he had hit it hard against the underside of the counter while trying to stand up too fast. However, the moment he noticed me standing there, his pained expression immediately brightened into a brilliant smile.
"Hello!" he said cheerfully, completely unfazed by his clumsy entrance. "I'm Leon. How can I help you today?"
I blinked for a moment, slightly surprised by how quickly his mood had shifted from swearing to radiating pure joy.
Leon was tall and broad-shouldered, with messy blonde hair that looked as though he had been running his flour-dusted hands through it all day long.
His emerald-green eyes practically sparkled with life whenever he smiled, which seemed to be his default state. There was an energetic, magnetic warmth about him that reminded me of Eric, although the feeling wasn't exactly the same.
Eric's energy often felt loud, chaotic, and reckless. Leon's, on the other hand, felt lighter, more controlled, and almost effortlessly friendly.
I found myself returning his smile automatically. "Hi. I'm William. I was going to buy three of those glazed donuts, three of those fruit cupcakes, and three small bottles of lemonade, please."
"Excellent choice," Leon replied immediately, his enthusiasm making it feel like I had just won a prize. He grabbed a clean paper bag and began preparing the order with quick, deft movements.
As he worked, he glanced up at me occasionally with genuine curiosity. "I haven't seen you around before. Are you new to the area?"
I felt a little shy under his bright gaze. "Yeah. I arrived just recently."
"Then welcome to our little town," he said warmly, placing several donuts into the bag before continuing. "So, how are you liking the town so far? Not too boring for you?"
"It's really nice," I answered honestly, feeling a sense of comfort. "Everyone's been incredibly helpful since I got here."
"That's good to hear. We really try our best not to scare newcomers away on their first week."
I laughed softly, the tension from my earlier encounter with Fenrir fully melting away. Something about Leon made conversations feel incredibly easy, like talking to an old friend.
He simply enjoyed human connection, and unlike many people who forced polite small talk, his interest felt entirely real.
As he was packing the fruit cakes, a remarkably pleasant, buttery smell drifted heavily from the open kitchen door behind him.
His emerald eyes immediately lit up with excitement. "Oh! The special buns are almost ready." He turned back towards me, his eyes wide with a silent plea. "I can give you the fresh, hot ones out of the oven if you don't mind waiting just a few minutes."
I shrugged, happy to extend my break in such a warm place. "I don't mind at all."
"Perfect. Hold that thought." Leon disappeared briefly into the back room, humming a cheerful tune.
While waiting, I looked around the beautifully kept bakery. The walls were decorated with old black-and-white photographs of the town and handwritten family recipes framed carefully behind glass.
Several potted herbs sat on the wooden windowsill, thriving. Soft, fading sunlight filtered through the large front windows, bathing the entire room in a warm, golden, nostalgic glow.
A few minutes later, Leon returned, triumphantly carrying a heavy metal tray of freshly baked buns.
Steam rose from them in delicate waves, and the smell alone was enough to make my stomach growl all over again.
"See?" he said proudly, presenting the tray with a flourish. "Absolutely worth waiting for."
I laughed, enchanted by his pride in his work. "You're probably right."
As he carefully transferred the warm pastries into a separate, insulated bag, he tilted his head slightly, studying the quantity of the food. "Since you ordered enough food for three people, I'm guessing someone is waiting for you to bring home the prize."
I shook my head, smiling. "Not exactly."
"No?" Leon raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued.
"I work just down the street. At the plant stall with Jasmine."
Recognition and a look of realization immediately appeared on his face. "Oh, Jasmine! Well, that makes total sense then."
He finished tying one of the paper bags closed with a neat piece of twine. "So you're good with plants then? A green thumb?"
I smiled a bit awkwardly, thinking of my limited experience. "I guess you could say that."
"That's seriously impressive," he said, pointing toward a small, slightly wilted potted herb sitting near the cash register. "All I know about plants is which ones taste good in my food. Beyond that, it's a mystery."
I laughed. "Hey, knowing how to use them in cooking is still a highly useful skill."
"Trust me, eating them is much easier than keeping them alive. Every plant I touch turns to dust."
The conversation continued naturally and fluidly while he finished preparing the rest of the order. Leon had a wonderful, playful sense of humor, but unlike Eric, he seemed to know exactly when to stop and read the room.
His jokes never felt excessive, overwhelming, or exhausting. There was a perfect balance to the way he spoke that made it incredibly easy to be around him.
Eventually, he placed the freshly baked buns, donuts, and fruit cakes into one large package and carefully wrapped the ice-cold lemonade bottles in another so they wouldn't ruin the warmth of the pastry bag.
"There we go," he said, sliding the packages across the counter with a bright smile;"I hope you and the crew like everything."
"I'm sure we will. Thank you, Leon."
I paid for the food and picked up the packages, the bags feeling pleasantly warm and heavy in my hands. I had already turned towards the door, the bell about to ring, when Leon suddenly called out after me.
"William?"
I stopped and glanced back over my shoulder. He was still standing behind the counter, leaning forward slightly, smiling with an intensity that felt surprisingly sweet.
"I really hope you come again. It would make me very happy to chat with you more."
For a brief moment, I wasn't entirely sure how to respond to such direct friendliness. Then, a genuine smile spread across my face. "Sure. See you later, Leon."
"See you later!"
The brass bell chimed once more as I stepped outside into the street. The evening air felt much cooler and sharper after the comforting warmth of the bakery.
I made my way back toward the market stall, where Jasmine and Eric were still busy wrapping up transactions with the final customers of the day.
Jasmine immediately reached for one of the cold lemonade bottles with a sigh of relief, while Eric claimed a glazed donut before I had even finished setting the heavy bags down on the counter.
We shared the delicious food together during a quiet, much-needed break, laughing and talking while watching the evening crowd pass by. Before long, the break ended and we returned to the grind.
Customers came and went, sales continued to climb, and the sun slowly drifted lower and lower toward the horizon. Yet, despite trying my absolute best to focus entirely on my work, my thoughts occasionally wandered right back to the bakery.
Back to the warmth, the smell of vanilla, and back to Leon's bright emerald green eyes.
Towards the evening, as I tried to focus entirely on my remaining work, the environment became suffocating.
The loud, competing voices of the final sellers were mixing with each other in a chaotic roar, and the sharp smell of spices coming from the corner stall hung heavily and damply in the air.
I was standing behind our wooden counter, trying to do the simple task of organizing the seed packets with extra caution, because I knew exactly what I would encounter the moment I lifted my eyes.
I didn't remove my gaze from the counter. I was absolutely determined not to lift it. But that didn't mean I wasn't being intensely watched.
Directly across the street, just a few stalls away, Fenrir was still there. He was silent, motionless, but undeniably present, staring at me fixedly ever since we had first met hours ago.
It was an uncomfortable, agonizing amount of time for someone to look at another person. Moreover, I felt it even if I didn't look back at him. Even without looking into those heavy, cold, and piercing sea-blue eyes, I felt them...
İt was almost as if he were torturing me with his gaze alone.
That invisible weight settled heavily between my shoulders, like a physical, icy hand wandering around the back of my neck, constantly pushing me, reminding me of Fenrir's overbearing presence.
Even when I was actively talking to a customer, a large part of my mind was stuck across the street. At one point, when I realized that I had given an older man the completely wrong change, I sharply pulled myself together, apologized, and corrected it, but the slight tremor in my hands simply would not go away.
I repeatedly thought to myself, Keep calm, it's just a look, but with the air growing colder, it wasn't easy at all.
Finally, as the sun officially dipped below the horizon, everyone started packing up their stalls and leaving. The bustling marketplace that had been filled with vibrant noise and laughter all day was slowly growing quiet, replaced by the eerie sounds of creaking wood and shifting canvas.
Merchants were folding their heavy tents, loading unsold goods into wooden carts, and shouting their final farewells before heading home for the night.
We had sold almost everything we brought, and the massive success of the day had left our small group in incredibly high spirits. Jasmine seemed especially pleased with the earnings.
A soft, satisfied smile lingered on her lips as she drove me home in her old truck, occasionally humming a gentle, rhythmic melody under her breath.
Eric sat right beside her in the passenger seat, leaning back comfortably with his phone in hand, completely absorbed in whatever article or game he was reading.
The warm, deep glow of the setting sun streamed through the dusty windows, painting everything inside the truck cabin in beautiful, rich shades of gold and orange.
It should have been a peaceful, comforting ride home after a hard day's work, yet my thoughts felt strangely distant, fragmented, and heavy.
I stared blankly out the window as the familiar scenery passed by, watching the green fields and dark trees blur together beneath the rapidly fading light.
The sky was objectively beautiful, shifting into deep purples and blues, but I could barely focus on it. There was a strange, nagging feeling in the back of my mind—a persistent, annoying sensation that something was deeply wrong. I couldn't explain it.
It felt as though I had forgotten something incredibly important, something vital that I should have remembered hours ago. The harder I tried to actively think about it and grasp the thought, the more elusive and slippery it became.
I mentally retraced my entire day, step by step—setting up the stall in the morning, helping the early customers, carrying the heavy wooden boxes, buying the pastries from Leon, counting the paper money after the sales—but nothing seemed out of place or missing.
Still, the deep, instinctual feeling of dread refused to leave my gut.
The truck continued down the quiet, bumpy road toward my house as total darkness gradually settled over the countryside.One by one, sharp stars began appearing in the clear evening sky.
As I absentmindedly glanced upward through the glass window, my eyes briefly caught sight of the massive, bright full moon rising slowly above the distant, jagged trees.
Something about the sight of that silver sphere made my stomach violently tighten, but before I could truly understand why, the thought slipped away into the shadows of my mind once again.
As we finally approached the driveway of my house, Eric suddenly looked up from his glowing phone screen. He sniffed the air once, his nose wrinkling, then did it again, his thick brows drawing together in deep confusion.
"What is that smell?" he asked, glancing around the interior of the truck, trying to locate the source of a scent I couldn't yet perceive.
His words struck me like a bolt of lightning. For a split second, the entire world seemed to grind to a complete stop. The humming of the engine faded, and my breath caught painfully in my throat as the forgotten, vital memory finally resurfaced with the force of a tidal wave.
The full moon.My medication.
I had completely forgotten to take my medication today.
The terrifying realization hit me so hard that my heart immediately began racing like a trapped animal.
My hands tightened against my knees, my knuckles turning stark white as pure panic slowly but surely spread through my entire body. How could I have been so incredibly stupid? How could I have forgotten? I never forgot.
Taking that specific medicine was a strict part of my daily routine, something I had done religiously for years without even thinking twice about it. Yet somehow, in the frantic chaos of the morning, the heavy gaze of Fenrir, and the excitement of the successful sales with Leon, it had completely slipped my mind.
I stared out the window again, and this time, the sight of the massive full moon felt impossible to ignore. It hung dominantly in the night sky, impossibly bright and beautiful, casting a pale, silver, revealing light across the darkening, vulnerable landscape.
"Are you okay, William?" Jasmine asked, her voice filled with sudden concern after noticing my absolute silence and stiff posture through the rearview mirror.
I forced myself to tear my eyes away from the terrifying moon. "Yeah," I replied quickly, trying to sound normal, but even to my own ears, the shaky answer sounded entirely unconvincing and hollow.
Neither Jasmine nor Eric seemed satisfied with my response. Eric studied my tense posture for a long moment before glancing back toward the window, his expression growing wary.
The strange scent in the air had apparently caught his attention for a specific reason, and that realization only made my anxiety multiply. I swallowed hard, tasting bile, and tried to remain perfectly still, but every passing second made me more painfully nervous.
The truck finally rolled into my gravel driveway and came to a sudden stop. The engine idled softly, a low rumble, while an uncomfortable, thick silence filled the vehicle.
Outside, the bright moonlight bathed my house in a ghostly silver glow. I stared at the front door through the windshield, my chest tightening with every shallow breath I took.
Maybe nothing would happen. Maybe being late by just one single day wouldn't make a medical or physical difference.
But deep down, as I slowly stepped out of the truck and felt the biting, cool night air brush against my sweaty skin, I knew I wasn't convinced.
The uneasy feeling that had followed me throughout the entire ride home had only grown stronger, mutating into pure dread. And as the full moon shone overhead, bright, inescapable, and unavoidable, I couldn't shake the terrifying feeling that tonight was going to become far more complicated and dangerous than I ever wanted it to be.
While looking outside from the main window of my dark living room, two massive silhouettes caught my attention. They did not look human in the slightest. They were clearly transformed Lycans, which was technically a normal occurrence during the peak of a full moon, especially in a secluded town like ours where strange, supernatural things were rarely questioned out loud anymore.
Yet, something about these two specific creatures felt entirely different, entirely more perilous. They were standing right at the wooden garden gate of my house, completely silent and perfectly still, as if they had been waiting there for a very long time.
They were not pacing back and forth, they were not searching the perimeter, and they were not actively hunting. They were simply watching.The night was unusually, suffocatingly quiet.
Even the wind seemed to have completely stopped moving through the thick trees, leaving the world dead silent.
Through the heavy darkness, I could easily make out their massive, imposing figures. They stood incredibly tall and broad, their powerful bodies covered in thick, coarse fur that blended seamlessly into the surrounding shadows.
Although neither of them moved a single muscle, I could clearly see the steady, rhythmic rise and fall of their massive chests as they breathed the cool night air. Every breath they took seemed heavy, hot, and restless.
Low, guttural growls occasionally escaped from their throats—deep, terrifying vibrations that somehow traveled through the air and reached me even through the thick, closed glass window. The primal sound sent a violent chill straight down my spine.
For what felt like hours, I temained completely frozen in place, utterly unable to look away from the horror at my gate. My fingers tightened around the fabric of the window curtain, wrinkling it tightly as I watched them. Then, almost at the exact same time, as if sharing a single mind, both of the massive beasts slowly lifted their heavy heads.
My breath caught painfully in my throat. Their eyes found mine instantly through the dark glass. It felt as though they had known exactly where I was standing all along, tracking my scent or my heartbeat.
A pair of deep, piercing blue eyes and a pair of brilliant, vibrant green eyes shone brightly in the darkness, cutting through the night like dual blades.The sheer intensity of those locked gazes made my entire body tense up, my muscles locking in fear.
They weren't looking at the structure of the house. They weren't looking at the garden plants. They were looking directly, explicitly at me.
The terrifying realization made my heart pound so violently against my ribs that it felt bruised.
Apparently, both of them were in heat. The biological signs were completely obvious to anyone who knew what to look for. The restless, ragged breathing, the extreme tension in their powerful postures, the heavy, possessive vibrations of their occasional growls.
Yet, they were not together as a pack. They kept a noticeable, rigid distance between each other, neither showing a single sign of submission nor open dominance. It was incredibly strange, an anomaly.
Two powerful Alphas in the exact same square footage during a full moon rarely tolerated each other's presence for more than a few seconds before tearing each other apart.
I studied them more carefully, despite every survival instinct in my brain screaming at me to step away from the window and hide in a closet.
Their commanding posture, their immense, unnatural size, the overwhelming spiritual pressure they radiated into the air—it all became perfectly clear after a few seconds of observation.
They were both from the pure Alpha lineage.The realization made my stomach violently twist into knots. Even from behind thick glass, insulation, and sturdy wooden walls, I could physically feel the crushing weight of their Alphas' presence.
It was the specific kind of heavy aura that demanded absolute submission, the kind that made every primal survival instinct scream at you to stay hidden and pray.
Their eyes never once left my small form. It felt as though they were actively trying to memorize every single detail about me—every micro-movement, every terrified expression, the very cadence of my breathing.
Neither Alpha showed open, snarling aggression toward me, yet that bizarre restraint somehow made the entire situation even more deeply unsettling.
They simply watched, claiming me with their eyes.The seconds stretched out into a painful infinity. One of them tilted his massive, furry head slightly, as if intellectually studying my fear. The other flicked a sharp ear toward the dark, rustling forest behind him before immediately snapping his gaze back to the house.
The tension in the air became almost entirely unbearable, thick enough to choke on. My hands had begun to tremble violently, and I could feel my frantic pulse racing loudly in my ears.
Then, without any warning, they finally broke the suffocating eye contact. Both Alphas quickly glanced around the empty, dark street, scanning their immediate surroundings for any threats or intruders.
After a few silent moments, they turned away from my garden gate in unison and began walking slowly down the dirt road. Their movements were incredibly calm, deliberate, and powerful, disappearing into the thick midnight darkness as quietly as they had initially arrived.
Only when they were completely, entirely gone from sight did I realize I had been holding my breath the entire time. Those few seconds of intense scrutiny had been enough to drain all the energy from my body.
I immediately stepped away from the window, dropping the curtain as if it had burned me, and ran frantically through the dark house. I checked the heavy front door lock twice, then rushed to the kitchen to check the back door.
Every single window in the house was completely locked. Every thick curtain was tightly closed, blocking out the silver moonlight.I moved frantically from room to room, hyperventilating, making sure absolutely nothing had been left open to the night air.
My hands were shaking uncontrollably by the time I finally finished my rounds. Those large, wild, intelligent eyes still lingered vividly in the forefront of my mind.
I did not know why two pure Alphas had been outside my home that night. I did not know why they had chosen my specific house out of everyone in the town, why they had stood so peacefully at my gate, or why they had stared at me with such an unsettling, deeply possessive focus.
Maybe they had only been passing through the residential area. Maybe it was just a strange coincidence, nothing more.
But deep down in my soul, I could not convince myself of that lie. Something about the way they had looked at me felt entirely intentional, calculated, and predatory.
It was as if they had been actively searching for something valuable.Or someone. And for a terrifying, breathless moment, I feared that the someone they were looking for might have been me.
Long after I finally retreated to the safety of my bedroom, burying myself beneath the blankets, I found myself glancing toward the locked window every few minutes.
Every slight creak of the old house made my entire body tense up. Every distant, echoing howl carried by the night wind made my heart skip a painful beat.
Sleep felt entirely impossible. The haunting memory of those deep blue and vibrant green eyes remained burned into my mind, bright, unyielding, and watching against the oppressive darkness.
Whatever deep, hidden reason they had for being out there, I knew one single thing for certain. I would do absolutely anything to keep myself hidden from them.
...