Chapter 2 Chapter 2

AMELIA

The address leads me far outside the city.

That alone should have told me everything.

My mother has always loved attention. Expensive restaurants, crowded events, people watching her like she’s something to admire.

But this?

This is quiet.

Too quiet.

Tall iron gates come into view as my cab slows to a stop, the driver glancing back at me like he’s not sure I belong here.

“Is this it?” he asks.

I nod, even though my chest feels tight.

The gates slide open before I can second guess myself like they were expecting me.

A shiver runs down my spine as the car pulls in, tires crunching softly against gravel. The house comes into view slowly, and for a second, I forget how to breathe.

It’s not a house.

It’s a mansion.

Dark stone with some parts covered in vines, towering windows, the kind of place that feels less like a home and more like something that watches you back.

My fingers curl slightly in my lap.

What kind of man lives like this?

What kind of person did my mother marry?

The car comes to a stop, and I step out, smoothing down my dress even though there’s no one immediately around to see me.

And there's this foreboding feeling in my chest.

I shake the feeling off, heading toward the entrance. The doors are already open, warm light spilling out into the evening.

Voices and laughter drift from inside accompanied by the sound of glasses clinking.

A celebration.

Right.

I step in.

The moment I cross the threshold, something shifts.

I don’t know how to explain it.

It’s not something I hear or see.

It’s something I feel in my chest. A pull, and the feeling of my heartbeat quickening.

My steps falter.

And then—

My eyes lift.

And I see him.

He’s standing across the room, surrounded by people who are clearly trying to impress him. Taller than everyone else, broader, hair slicked back to give way to strong sharp jaws, appears to be i his late thirties or early forties, still, hairy hands shoved in his pocket.

His expression is unreadable, his posture relaxed in a way that feels deliberate and controlled like nothing here is worth his full attention.

Until his gaze lifts and lands on me.

It's like everything stops.

The noise fades and the room disappears and all I can hear is my heart — loud, erratic, like it’s trying to break out of my chest.

This feeling—

It hits me all at once.

Sharp. Overwhelming. And absolutely wrong and unlike anything I've ever felt before.

My breath stutters as something twists deep inside me, pulling, tightening, dragging my legs toward him without permission.

Like I belong there.

Like I’ve always belonged there.

One step.

Toward him.

Two.

My lips part, confusion and something far more dangerous tangling in my chest as the word forces its way up—

Not a thought or a choice. Nothing but an instinct.

A claim.

Mate.

The word echoes in my head and for a second, I think I imagined it until I see it.

Not in words or movement but in the way his eyes darken.

It's subtle and barely there but it's enough.

Enough to tell me he felt it too.

I notice him turning rigid but in a controlled way. 

His gaze drags over me slowly and deliberately like he’s trying to understand what he’s looking at.

Or maybe like he already does.

My chest tightens as I continue to take another step forward.

Then another.

I can’t stop.

It’s like something invisible is pulling me closer, tightening with every step, every breath, every second his eyes stay locked on mine.

And he doesn't move. He just stands there while four people surround him, conversing.

My pulse spikes harder as I get closer, close enough now to see the tension in his jaw, 

My lips part—

“Amelia.”

The sound of my name cuts through everything, sharp and immediate.

And the pull snaps.

I freeze as my head turns slowly like I’m waking up from a dream.

And there she is.

My mother.

She's walking towards me in a short white gown, a tight lipped smile that doesn't reach her eyes on her face.

“Here you are,” she says, stepping closer.

Her eyes flick over me quickly, taking in my dress and my hair like she’s assessing whether I look presentable enough to stand beside her.

“I've told you countless times to stop packing your hair up.” She says under her breath.

And I know the reason.

She said it makes me look even more like him.

My father.

Her lips press into a thinner line as her gaze lingers on my face for a second too long, something flickering there—annoyance… or something deeper and uglier.

I don’t say anything as my eyes flicker to behind her where the man still stands, his attention now on a man beside him.

And I've never said a thing anytime she says that because this isn’t new.

It never has been.

She hates the way I laugh like him.

The way I look even more like him with my hair packed up.

The way I tilt my head when I’m confused.

The way my eyes soften at things that shouldn’t matter just like him.

She hates that no matter what she does and how much she tries to break me—

I don’t look like her.

I look like the man she wishes she could forget.

“Come,” she says again, already turning away like the conversation is over.

Then her hand reaches out and curls lightly around my wrist.

Not affectionate.

Just… guiding.

“Come,” she says. “There’s someone you need to meet.”

My eyes flicker past her again, back to him.

And he’s still there, his attention still on the man beside him like nothing happened, like he didn’t just look at me like that.

So I look away, because I’ll think about it later… I have to.

Because there’s no way I just felt something like that for a stranger, no way at all.

My mother starts walking, her grip still firm around my wrist as she pulls me along with her,,, toward him.

And my heart stutters before it starts to pound, fast, too fast.

The people around him shift almost immediately as we approach, their posture straightening and their voices lowering.

“Haa… Luna Skylar. Good day, and happy married life.”

Luna?

My brows pull together, because my mother is an Alpha, so what—

But she just smiles, elegant and controlled, like she’s been waiting for that title.

And then she stops right beside him.

And my chest tightens.

“Mateo,” she says smoothly before sparing me a glance, “this is Amelia, my daughter.”

Everything inside me goes still, and then she turns to me.

“This is Mateo… my husband.”

And the word lands.

Heavy and wrong.

And through the link, her voice slips into my head—

‘Quit with the shocked look. I’ll tell you more about the pack merging later.’

But I barely hear her.

Because my eyes are on him, and the pull hits again, harder this time, making my breath stutter as something inside me tightens painfully.

No.

No, that’s not—

My fingers curl at my sides as the truth forces its way in, slow but unstoppable.

And the shock isn’t because my Alpha mother is now with the title Luna, and it’s not even about the pack merging.

It’s him.

It’s—

Mate.

My lips part, but no sound comes out, because I don’t know how to say it, don’t know how to breathe through it—

Because my mate…

Is my mother’s new husband.