Chapter 20
I left the professor’s office feeling like my world had tilted sideways.
A cursed bloodline?
A hunted legacy?
It sounded like something out of a fairytale. A nightmare fairytale.
I walked in a daze to the courtyard, where students were lounging in the sun. Their laughter echoed, but I couldn’t focus. I sat on a bench, trying to slow my racing thoughts.
My phone buzzed.
Ian: Done with class?
I stared at the screen. I should’ve told him everything. About what the professor said. About my father. About the danger.
But instead, I typed: Almost. Meet you in 10?
Because deep down, I knew something terrifying—I didn’t want to lose him. Even if the smarter part of me screamed to run.
When I met him by the parking lot, he leaned against his black motorcycle, arms crossed, sunglasses hiding his eyes. He looked like every warning I’d ever been given.
But when he saw me, he smiled—and all those warnings felt like whispers in the wind.
“Hey,” he said, pulling off the shades. “You okay? You look pale.”
I shrugged. “Just… rough class.”
He stepped closer, tipping my chin gently. “Liar. What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”
I hesitated, then asked, “Ian… if you found out I wasn’t who you thought I was—would it change things?”
He frowned. “You’re Ava. That’s all I need to know.”
“But what if I was dangerous?” My voice shook.
“Then I’d be the one protecting you from yourself.”
My heart cracked open at that. This boy, this reckless Alpha-in-waiting, was the only person who didn’t look at me like I was a problem to solve or a threat to fear.
He reached for my hand and laced our fingers together. “I don’t care what anyone says. I don’t care about titles, curses, or ancient feuds. If you’re mine, you’re mine. And I’ll burn down the whole damn world before I let it take you from me.”
I wanted to believe him.
I needed to believe him.
But fate had a cruel sense of humor.
That night, I found an envelope slipped under our front door. No name. No return address.
Inside was a single photo.
My mother. Younger. Smiling.
And beside her—my father, not as I remembered him, but in full Alpha form. Strong. Powerful. Blood-drenched.
On the back of the photo, a single sentence was scrawled in messy, inked letters:
“The girl is not who she thinks she is.”