Untitled story

Well just another shitty day at my dead end job at the coffee shop. The only reason I am working here is to get the hell away from my step mother and step sister. Hi my name is angel, and this is my story.

When I was 16 my dad passed away in a car accident. He left me a big mansion and my inheritance, but his wife and her daughter took over everything. Even put me in the darkest and coldest room of the house. Took my inheritance. That’s why I’m working countless nights and days to get enough money to leave this awful place.

It was a Sunday morning mind you, our busiest day of the week due to church goers and old men that just wanna sit around and chat with one another to get away from their nagging wife’s. God I wish I knew what being loved felt like. I haven’t felt it since my father passed away. Boy do I miss him.

I was spacing out, when A man came up to the register and cleared his throat. “Hmm, excuse me hello?” He said waving his tattooed hand in my face. “I am so sorry sir,” I said. “What could I get you this fine day?” I asked him.

He was like a dream. About 6’4 200 pounds with ice blue eyes and charcoal black hair. His neck was tattooed as far as I can see, and his arms well I couldn’t tell due to the 10,000 dollar suit he had been wearing.

He gave me a smirk—one of those dangerous, cocky kinds that makes your heart skip even if your brain’s screaming run. “Black coffee,” he said, voice low and smooth like velvet but with an edge, like he wasn’t used to asking for things—more like he was used to giving orders.

“Coming right up,” I muttered, trying to keep my hands from shaking as I punched it into the register.

He slid a crisp hundred-dollar bill across the counter like it was nothing. “Keep the change,” he said, his eyes locking onto mine for just a second too long.

“Um… are you sure?” I asked, blinking.

He leaned in just a little, the scent of expensive cologne and something darker—leather, maybe?—wrapping around me. “You look like you could use it.”

I stood there frozen for a beat too long, then quickly turned to prep the coffee, cheeks burning. Who was this guy? He looked like he belonged in a penthouse suite in New York, not in this run-down coffee shop that still smelled like burnt beans and mopped floors.

As I handed him the cup, our fingers brushed. Just barely. But it was enough to send a weird electric jolt up my spine. He noticed. I saw it in the way his smirk curled just a little higher.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Angel,” I said, almost too quietly.

He nodded slowly, his gaze never leaving mine. “Angel. Fitting.”

And then, just like that, he walked out. No phone number. No explanation. Just left me standing there, heart racing like I’d just seen a ghost… or maybe a devil in a tailored suit.

What I didn’t know then was that this wasn’t the last I’d see of him. Not even close.

The rest of my shift passed in a blur. I kept replaying the encounter in my head, like a song stuck on repeat. The way he looked at me. The way he said my name. Fitting, he had said. What the hell did that even mean?

By the time my shift ended, the sun was already setting. I wrapped my hoodie tighter around myself and started the long walk home. I didn’t have a car. Couldn’t afford one yet—not when every penny went to saving up for my escape plan.

When I got to the mansion—well, what used to be mine—it was already dark. The lights were off. My stepmother and her brat were probably out wasting my inheritance again. I didn’t care. I preferred it that way. Fewer fights. Less venom.

I headed straight to the back of the house, down the narrow servant’s hallway they made me use, and into my tiny, freezing room. I flipped on the light.

And nearly screamed.

On my bed sat a black envelope. No name. No stamp. Just… there. Waiting.

My hands trembled as I picked it up. The paper was thick, expensive. Like something out of a spy movie. I tore it open and pulled out a single white card with two words written in elegant, silver script:

“You’re not alone.”

That’s it.

No signature. No clue. Just those three words and a sudden chill crawling up my spine.

I darted to the window and looked out, but the street was empty. No cars. No movement. Just shadows.

My heart thudded in my chest like a warning bell. I didn’t know who that man was. I didn’t know how he knew my name. And I definitely didn’t know how the hell he found where I lived.

But something told me this was only the beginning.

His POV

I watched her from across the street long after I left the coffee shop. She didn’t see me, of course. They never do—not unless I want them to. Humans have a way of ignoring the things that live in the shadows.

But she… Angel… she wasn’t just another human. Not to me.

She looked just like her father—something fierce buried under layers of pain. I could smell the loneliness on her, the quiet strength she hadn’t even discovered yet. The wolf in me stirred the moment I laid eyes on her.

My name’s Kade. Alpha of the Blackridge Pack. The strongest, most feared werewolf bloodline in a hundred-mile radius—maybe more, if you ask the right people. I run things from the shadows. The council knows better than to challenge me. So do the other packs. But power like mine doesn’t come without a cost.

And now, Angel is part of that cost.

Her father wasn’t just some businessman who died in a car crash like they told her. No. Darius Vale was one of us—one of the old guard. A former Alpha who went into hiding to protect her. She was never supposed to be dragged into this world. But now that he’s gone, the bloodline is exposed… and every rogue, rival, and twisted creature out there will come sniffing.

They’ll want her. For her inheritance, sure. But more than that—for her blood.

She doesn’t know yet. Not about me. Not about her father. Not about what’s sleeping under her skin, waiting to wake.

I should stay away. Let her live whatever human life she’s trying to cling to. But I can’t. The council’s already asking questions. And worse—the Hollowfangs are on the move. If they find her before I do, they’ll kill her… or worse, turn her into something unrecognizable.

I left the note to warn her. To test the waters.

And maybe… because part of me is selfish. Part of me remembers Darius holding her as a baby, asking me to keep her safe if anything happened.

He knew the day would come. So did I.

Now it’s here.

And if Angel Vale doesn’t accept what she is soon, the world will tear her apart before she even learns how to howl.

I should have walked away. I told myself I would.

But the second I saw her standing in that coffee shop—eyes dull, shoulders hunched, wearing pain like a second skin—I knew I was already in too deep.

Angel Vale was a ticking time bomb. Her scent was starting to change. Subtle. Most wouldn’t notice it. But I did. Her wolf was stirring. Not full-blooded, not yet—but strong enough to draw attention from the wrong kind of monsters.

Which is why I’m here. Outside the mansion. Watching.

The place reeked of decay—spiritually and otherwise. Greed. Envy. Lies. Her stepmother and the daughter… parasites. They knew exactly what they took from her. And they thought no one would come to collect.

They were wrong.

I pressed a gloved hand to the iron gate. Old magic pulsed through it. Her father had put it there years ago to keep his enemies out. But magic that isn’t fed begins to rot. This protection was fading fast.

She was alone in there. Vulnerable.

I stepped back into the shadows just as a black SUV rolled down the street. Tinted windows. Silent engine. No headlights.

Hollowfangs.

They’re faster than I expected.

I clenched my jaw and shifted my stance, my senses sharpening. One of them rolled down a window just enough for me to catch a whiff—iron, blood, and rot. Not just Hollowfangs. Turned ones. Abominations.

They wouldn’t make a move tonight. Not yet. They were watching, like I was. But with far less noble intentions.

I waited until they turned the corner, then leapt over the gate and landed silently in the garden. Her window was on the left—low to the ground, barred. Disrespectful, like she was a prisoner in her own home.

I reached into my coat and pulled out another envelope. Thicker this time. Inside: a photo of her father in his Alpha form, a pendant bearing our pack’s sigil, and a message she wouldn’t be able to ignore.

“They’re coming. He didn’t die in an accident. And neither will you. Not if you come with me.”

I slid it under her door, letting the pendant clink softly against the wood before vanishing back into the night.

Tomorrow, I’ll return. If she opens that envelope, I’ll know where she stands. If she doesn’t…

Then I’ll have to make a choice I’ve been avoiding for sixteen years.

Because Angel Vale is not just the daughter of an Alpha.

She’s the future of the Pack.

And war is coming.