“I’m only considering possible strategies, Father,” Kael replied, his voice calm yet measured, as if he weighed each word before releasing it. His posture was nearly flawless, but a faint tension still lingered along his jaw. He had to tread carefully—one wrong move, and Aurin would be the one to pay the price.
Alpha Aldric narrowed his eyes, studying his son with a gaze sharp enough to peel apart whatever Kael tried to hide. Nothing ever slipped past him. Not the smallest shift of a shoulder, not the change in someone’s breathing, not even a blink that came half a second too late. He had always been able to read the thoughts Kael never voiced—the emotions he never allowed to surface.
But as time passed… and Kael’s power continued to grow, that advantage began to fade. The boy had learned how to mask his emotional traces, to bury secrets even an alpha like Aldric could no longer pierce through.
“If you find anything—no matter how small—you tell me at once,” Aldric said, his tone heavier than before. “The future of our pack depends on that girl.”
Kael bowed his head. “Of course, Father.”
But his heart whispered a different truth.
Behind the well-trained stillness of his face, pressure coiled in his chest—not out of fear, but something far more tangled than mere loyalty to a leader. A single thought kept circling in his mind, relentless, like a mantra refusing to fade.
If Aurin truly is the Luna Doble…
…then the whole world will try to claim her.
And Kael knew he would protect her—no matter what it cost.
Even if it meant standing against his own father.
Even if it meant standing against the world itself.
That morning, Aurin walked to work with a brightness in her step, almost as if she were gliding. The cool morning breeze brushed against her cheeks, tossing the loose strands of hair around her face. She even found herself humming—without realizing she was doing it—while swinging her bag lightly at her side.
For some reason, the past week had felt… strange. Strange, yet warm. Pleasant, yet confusing. Two mysterious men had begun appearing in her life, taking turns in ways that made no sense—sometimes behaving like ordinary humans, sometimes like they were hiding something immense. Something that made the back of Aurin’s neck prickle, even when nothing threatening was actually happening.
And Raven…
God. Raven.
That man now appeared at the café almost every day. At first, Aurin thought he was just a habitual customer who happened to like the shadowed corner seat and his usual order: black coffee, no sugar. But lately, Raven had started acting as if the café was his territory.
Or more precisely—as if protecting Aurin was part of his daily routine.
Like yesterday morning.
“Some creep was staring at you from outside,” Raven had said casually, leaning against the bar counter, though his eyes were razor sharp. “If he shows up again, tell me.”
Aurin had laughed softly despite the heat blooming on her cheeks. “Raven, you’re just a customer. You don’t have to—”
“Too late,” Raven had cut in with a faint smirk. “I already decided.”
Today felt no different. Aurin hadn’t even opened the front door yet, but her instincts—lately far too alert for her liking—told her Raven was definitely inside.
She was right.
The moment she slipped through the back entrance, the warm scent of brewed coffee welcomed her—the earthy aroma of robusta that always cleared her head. But today, there was something even more familiar in the air.
Raven.
He stood in the middle of the room wearing a fitted black shirt, the café apron slung around him as if he’d always owned it, a cleaning cloth in his hand. He was wiping tables while whistling under his breath, completely at ease, like the place belonged to him. Morning light spilled through the windows, catching in his dark hair, turning it slightly bronze.
When he spotted Aurin, his whistling stopped, replaced by a warm smile—a smile that always made her heartbeat miss a step.
“Morning,” he said casually, twirling the cloth around his finger. “I beat you here… again.”
Aurin arched a brow, giving him a look somewhere between exasperation and disbelief. She brushed past him without comment and headed to the lockers.
“If you keep doing this, you’re going to end up taking my job,” she muttered while tying her apron.
Raven shrugged lightly. “I don’t mind. Your café’s pretty comfortable.”
“It’s not my café,” Aurin shot back, moving toward the coffee machine. Her hands worked on autopilot, but her pulse was still annoyingly uneven.
Nara, one of her coworkers, passed by carrying a tray of clean glasses. She paused just long enough to whisper, barely containing her laughter.
“You seriously have a devoted fan,” Nara teased.
Aurin glared, heat rushing to her cheeks. “I told you not to say things like that.”
“What? I’m just pointing out the obvious,” Nara said with an innocent shrug before walking off.
Raven, who had clearly heard everything, tilted his head with that crooked smile—mischievous, unbothered, completely sure of himself. A smile that said I am your biggest fan, and I’m not even trying to hide it. He leaned on the bar as if it were already his spot.
“And just so you know,” Raven added, “I’m not here to replace you. I’m here to… make sure things stay safe.”
Aurin scoffed as she measured the coffee grounds. “Safe from what? Deadly dirty cups?”
Raven didn’t laugh. He watched her—too long, too intently—as if fighting the urge to say something he wasn’t allowed to voice. The air between them thickened, almost tangible.
“From a lot of things,” he murmured at last, his voice low enough to tremble at the edges.
Aurin rolled her eyes, trying to shake off the odd sensation creeping up her spine. Her heart thudded far too fast, and she couldn’t tell whether it was his words… or his gaze.
Night air swept through Aurin’s hair as she hurried along the damp sidewalk. Cold wind stung her cheeks, and she tugged her jacket higher. The small town’s streetlights flickered weakly, stretching long shadows across the pavement—turning the path ahead darker, quieter, eerier.
Aurin exhaled a shaky breath, trying to steady herself. But the soft footsteps trailing behind her, steady and unmistakable, made it hard to focus. She didn’t need to look back to know who they belonged to.
Raven.
Of course.
“I told you to stop following me,” Aurin muttered in irritation, not bothering to glance back. She quickened her pace, the sharp click of her heels echoing across the damp street.
But Raven slowed his steps—as if to show he wasn’t stalking her. He was simply… present. Watching. Enjoying this quiet little game. Aurin knew it. She could feel Raven’s gaze on her back, heavy and unmistakable.
“I’m just making sure you get home safely,” Raven said, his voice soft like the night breeze, yet carrying an unyielding note beneath it: he wasn’t going to stop, even if she asked.
Aurin abruptly halted. The cool night air brushed her skin as she spun around.
Raven was only a few meters away. The pale streetlight carved sharp lines along his jaw, and his eyes—dark, bottomless—gleamed faintly, holding something no human should be able to see.
His smile was relaxed. Unbothered. As if this situation wasn’t strange at all.
“Why are you following me?” Aurin snapped. “I don’t need a guard.”
“Ah.” Raven lifted his brows, his expression unchanged. “But I still want to guard you.”
Aurin clenched her teeth. “Whatever!”
She stormed off, faster than before. Raven caught up easily—not from behind this time, but beside her. His steps were light, soundless, making her even more annoyed and… for some reason, a little uneasy.
“Are you angry?” Raven asked gently. “I like that look on your face.”
Aurin glared. “Raven. Stop teasing.”
“But I’m not teasing.” He leaned a fraction closer, his voice dropping lower—richer, almost a whisper brushing along her spine. “I’m serious.”
Aksara