NOT JUST THE ALPHA'S MATE

Chapter 1

Evren Hale first caught the scent at thirty-five. It was twenty past nine on an otherwise ordinary workday. His assistant ran through the schedule as they came up from the underground parking garage: a quarterly meeting at ten, a contract review with Legal before noon, several internal meetings that afternoon, and a video call. Evren listened, replying when necessary, without paying much attention to the people passing by. Then the elevator stopped on the eighteenth floor, and something in the air caught his attention.

A crowd of employees stood outside the elevator. Some carried laptops, others coffee cups, while a few younger staff members discussed an afternoon meeting. Several departments shared the meeting rooms on that floor, so mornings were usually chaotic. Evren was waiting for the doors to close when a faint scent drifted through the air.

It was barely there, mingling with coffee, perfume, cleaning products, and paper, and vanished within seconds. His hand went still beside the door. His body reacted before his mind caught up. An instinct he had barely felt in years stirred, suddenly and unmistakably. His mate.

He looked out at the crowd. A few employees noticed the CEO in the elevator and stepped aside. Someone murmured a greeting. Farther along, a person carrying files turned into another corridor, and the scent was gone.

Evren caught the closing door with his hand. His assistant stopped beside him. “Mr. Hale?”

“Find out who came through this floor just now.”

The assistant hesitated. “Everyone on the eighteenth floor?”

“Everyone who’s been through here in the last few minutes.”

“Visitors too?”

“Everyone.”

By late morning, his assistant had assembled the access logs, visitor register, elevator records, and a list of suppliers who had come and gone. Evren looked through them when he had a moment. He even paid closer attention while passing through a few of the departments, but there was no trace of that familiar scent.

Over the next few weeks, he caught it twice more: once in the ground-floor lobby, then in the corridor outside the staff cafeteria. Each time it disappeared almost as soon as he stopped. His assistant supplied more names, but none brought him any closer.

For years, Evren had kept an eye out for his mate. Pack gatherings and arranged introductions had come to nothing. He went on with his work and grew used to people occasionally bringing up marriage. Now he finally had a scent to follow and still couldn’t find the person it belonged to.

He kept his impatience to himself. Meetings, paperwork, company business, Pack affairs—his days continued as usual. He simply found himself paying closer attention whenever he passed the lobby, cafeteria, or elevators, before moving on.

* * *

When Nessa Calder joined the company as an intern at twenty-two, she hadn’t imagined she would still be there two years later. She had just graduated, her résumé was painfully short, and she had little experience of interviews. The day the offer arrived, she read the email several times to make sure it really was addressed to her, then sent a screenshot to a friend.

During those first three months, she tried desperately hard. She worried about being late, about making mistakes, about missing a step. She wrote down whatever people asked her to do and asked questions when she didn’t understand. Sometimes, at home, something from the day would occur to her, and she’d spend the evening wondering whether she had forgotten anything.

At the end of her internship, her supervisor, Daniel, called her into his office and asked whether she wanted to stay. The department needed an assistant. The salary wasn’t much, but the job was steady and came with medical benefits. To Nessa, that was already a good offer. She had little in savings and no family she could rely on. That evening, she bought herself a small slice of cake to celebrate becoming a permanent employee. Two years later, she sometimes remembered that cake and wondered how she’d been so naïve.

She couldn’t say when she’d become the person everyone found so useful. At first, colleagues only occasionally asked her to print something, accept a delivery, or check a spreadsheet. Before long, they knew they could hand her a task and she would find a way to finish it. She rarely refused. All it took was “It’s really urgent,” or a troubled expression, and she began to wonder whether she was being unreasonable.

The work kept piling up. Some of it belonged to her job; plenty didn’t. People came to her when they couldn’t be bothered to look for old files. They called her when the printer jammed, when no one had booked a meeting room, when a supplier couldn’t reach the person responsible. Eventually, even she struggled to tell which tasks were supposed to be hers.

At eight forty on Tuesday morning, Nessa had barely put her bag down and started her computer when Caroline arrived from the next desk carrying a stack of papers.

“Nessa, could you give me a hand with this? It’s for the client meeting this afternoon. I had it ready yesterday, but they changed things last night. Could you check it again, including the figures, and get it back to me before twelve?”

Nessa turned a page, then glanced at the clock on her screen. Eight forty-two. More than twenty unread emails had appeared. She also had three purchase requests to enter before ten. Her morning was already full.

“I’ve got things due this morning too.”

Caroline immediately looked distressed. “I know, but I’ve got meetings at nine and ten thirty. I really can’t squeeze it in. Please? Otherwise I’ll be in trouble this afternoon. You’re quicker with this stuff anyway. I’d feel much better leaving it with you.”

Nessa kept her hand on the papers. She had been ready to say she couldn’t fit it in. Then Caroline stood there waiting, and Nessa couldn’t bring herself to refuse.

“All right. I’ll try.”

Caroline smiled at once. “Thank you! I knew I could count on you.” She left with her laptop, leaving the files behind. Nessa opened her inbox. The files stayed on the corner of her desk.

After nine, the phone hardly stopped. Procurement wanted a quotation. Finance said an invoice was missing information. A supplier called to ask why no one had answered the documents they’d sent yesterday. Nessa wedged the phone against her shoulder and searched her email. She had just found what she needed when someone called from the printer.

“Nessa, could you have a look? It’s jammed.”

She looked up. “Call IT.”

“For this? You fixed it last time.”

“It was just a paper jam.”

“Probably the same thing again. I’m already late for a meeting. Could you sort it out? It’ll only take a minute.”

Before she could answer, the colleague hurried off with their laptop. Nessa watched them go, then got up. The paper was wedged deep inside. She spent nearly ten minutes bent over the machine and got ink on her hands. By the time she returned to her desk, the procurement system had logged her out. It was ten oh-three.

“Great,” she muttered, and signed in again.

She finished Caroline’s documents just before lunch. At eleven fifty-six, Caroline stood beside the desk, leafed through a few pages, and found more things to change.

“Isn’t this font size different?”

Nessa leaned over. “A little smaller. I’ll fix it.”

“And this table looks cramped. Could you spread it out a bit?”

Nessa checked the time. “Don’t you need to be in there at twelve thirty?”

“Exactly. That’s why I’m panicking.” Caroline gave an embarrassed little smile. “Please? It won’t take long.”

Nessa took the file back without another word. She finally got to lunch after two. The chicken sandwich she had bought that morning was dry around the edges. She had barely taken two bites when Reception called.

“Nessa, the courier’s here. Could you come down and sign?”

She paused with a mouthful of bread. “Isn’t anyone at the front desk?”

“They’ve all stepped out.”

“I’m eating.”

There was a silence, then the caller’s voice softened. “Oh. Sorry. It’s just that the courier says he can’t wait long.”

Nessa looked down at her sandwich. A few seconds later, she wrapped it up again. “All right. I’m coming.”

It was almost three by the time she returned. She sat looking at the sandwich, forced down another couple of bites, then put the rest back in her bag.

The afternoon brought requests for old files, meeting rooms, and expense claims. Documents that should have arrived yesterday finally turned up after four. By four forty-five, her own list was nearly clear. She checked the time. For once, leaving on schedule seemed possible. She was considering stopping for fried chicken on the way home when Daniel appeared at five oh-three.

“Nessa.”

She stopped putting papers into her bag. Daniel turned his laptop toward her. “Could you work on this presentation? I need it tomorrow morning.”

“What time?”

“Nine.”

She looked at him. “Daniel, it’s five now.”

“I know. Marketing only just sent me the latest figures. I’ve been chasing them all day. What else could I do?”

Nessa opened the file and scrolled. More than forty slides. She already knew what was coming.

“How much needs changing?”

“Make the formatting consistent, replace all the figures in the second half, and redo the layout on the overcrowded slides.”

“All of them?”

“Yes.”

She looked up. “I can’t finish this today.”

Daniel softened his voice. “Please, Nessa. Tomorrow’s meeting matters. I can’t walk in with old numbers. You’re quick at this. I know I can trust you with it.”

That again. She rubbed her aching eyes. Caroline had said much the same thing that morning.

“I was hoping to leave on time.”

He sighed. “I know. I don’t want to drop this on you at five either, but if Marketing won’t send the data, what am I supposed to do? Start tonight. If it gets too late, come in early tomorrow and finish.”

Nessa wanted to ask how early he meant. She started at eight thirty. Seven? Six? In the end, she didn’t ask.

“Okay.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it.”

Then he left. After six, the office began to empty. A few people were still working after seven, but by eight thirty, most desks around her were vacant. A colleague passing on the way out glanced at her screen.

“Overtime again?”

“Mm.”

“How late?”

“No idea.”

They laughed. “Don’t work too hard.”

Nessa managed a smile. “As if I want to.”

“Good luck!”

They waved and left. The elevator doors closed in the distance. Nessa went back to the slides, looking up occasionally at empty desks and dark monitors.

After nine, she found the leftover sandwich in her bag. The bread had gone hard. After ten, the air-conditioning grew unbearably cold. She put on her jacket and fetched hot water from the kitchenette. At eleven forty-seven, a new email arrived from Marketing. It contained another set of figures and one sentence: Please use this version instead. Thanks!

She stared at the attachment. Half the dozen or so slides she’d just finished would have to be redone. Slowly, she leaned back and covered her face.

“Are you serious...?”

No one answered. Eventually, she sat up and opened the new file. Her head began to hurt after one. At first, she could manage it, but by two, her eyes were so dry that the words sometimes seemed to double. She went to the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face. In the mirror, she looked a mess: loose hair, a sickly face, dark shadows beneath her eyes. She braced herself against the sink.

“Go home,” she told herself.

She didn’t move. A few seconds later, she added, “Just a little more. Then I’ll go.” At four oh-eight, she was still at her computer. When the chills started, she blamed the air-conditioning. She pulled her jacket tighter, but the cold kept creeping up her back. Her forehead felt much hotter than it should. She was probably running a fever.

She rested her head on the desk, intending to close her eyes for five minutes. More than ten had passed when her phone alarm rang. Sitting up was an effort. Her head felt heavy, and she needed several seconds to remember where she’d got to. Still, she went on. At six forty, she saved the final slide.

Daylight had reached the windows. She watched the clock, thinking about going home for a shower, but the round trip would take over an hour. Daniel needed the presentation at nine; there wouldn’t be time to rest. She went to the bathroom instead, washed her face, retied her hair, and straightened her clothes. Her face was still flushed.

“Ask for leave,” she told herself. “Hand it over and go.”

After eight, colleagues began arriving. Caroline passed her desk, took two more steps, then came back.

“Didn’t you go home yesterday?”

Nessa shook her head.

“You’ve been here all night?”

“Yes.”

Caroline frowned. “Your face is really red.”

“I think I’ve got a fever.”

“Then why are you still sitting here?”

“I’m waiting for Daniel.”

Caroline seemed about to say something, then shook her head. “Seriously, go and see a doctor.”

“I will.”

Daniel finally arrived at eight forty-five. Nessa sent him the file, and he opened it beside her desk. She leaned back, head throbbing, throat dry, waiting for him to finish so she could leave. He stopped after a few slides.

“Why is this cell blank?”

She leaned closer. There really was a missing entry. “Oh. I’ll fill it in.”

He frowned. “You’ve been a bit careless lately. We can’t have people spotting things like this in a meeting.”

She wanted to remind him she hadn’t slept, to tell him Marketing had changed the figures near midnight. But he was already checking the time.

“Hurry up. It’s almost nine.”

“Okay,” she said.

As she sat down, her vision went black. She gripped the edge of the desk and waited, motionless. It took more than ten seconds before she could see properly. No one noticed. She opened the file, filled in the missing figure, and sent it again. At nine oh-seven, Daniel left with his laptop. At last, she could ask for leave.

She pushed herself upright and waited for another wave of dizziness to pass. Her phone vibrated. Nessa, could you print the signed copy for me? I need it before ten. Really urgent.

Standing beside the corridor, she stared at the message. For once, she truly didn’t want to deal with it. Yet she couldn’t stop thinking: if she didn’t print it, what would they do at ten?

She rubbed her forehead and put the phone away. HR first. She could worry about the printing later. Carrying a few files she’d picked up on the way, she moved slowly down the corridor. The lights hurt her eyes. The floor seemed to sway. She stopped until the dizziness eased, then went on. A few steps later, everything went dark. The papers fell from her arms. She reached for the wall, but her fingers never touched it.

* * *

Evren was on his way to a meeting, his assistant briefing him on changes to a contract. They had reached the second item when he noticed a young employee ahead of them. She was moving slowly, carrying files, and looked unwell. He had barely glanced at her before the papers dropped and she tipped sideways. He was closest. He caught her.

“Hey.”

No response. Her weight sagged against his arms. As he steadied her, he felt the heat through her sleeve. Far too hot. Her face was flushed and her breathing labored; this hadn’t just started.

“Call an ambulance.”

His assistant took out his phone. People nearby stopped, some crouching to collect the papers. Someone recognized her.

“She’s from Operations, I think. Nessa. Yes, Nessa Calder.”

Evren didn’t ask more about her identity. HR arrived and began checking whether she had eaten and whether she had an emergency contact. He gave them a brief account and told them to send someone with her to the hospital.

Then someone nearby murmured, “Didn’t she stay last night?”

“I heard she was here all night.”

Evren turned. “All night?”

The employee looked startled. “I... heard it from someone in her department this morning. She was working on a presentation. Apparently she only finished today.”

He frowned but didn’t question them further. The paramedics arrived, people moved aside, and someone gathered her belongings. Once HR had taken charge, Evren prepared to go on to his meeting. As he turned, he caught that scent again.

Faint, but unmistakably the same. He stopped and looked back. Nessa was already on the stretcher, surrounded by HR staff, employees, and paramedics. Too many scents mingled together for him to tell where it came from. His assistant, already farther down the corridor, glanced back.

“Mr. Hale, they’re waiting for you.”

Evren took one last look. “Let’s go.”