Chapter 2 I'm Alexander Clark

This... had never happened in her previous life.

Olivia found herself locked up with a middle-aged woman, both confined to the same dark cell.

Half a day passed before someone finally came.

A young officer, clad in an iron-grey uniform, entered. His boots were caked with mud, and his face was cold, eyes sharp.

He opened the door to the men's cell first.

"I'm innocent! I'm not a spy!" one of the men pleaded desperately.

Bang.

A single gunshot echoed, the sound lingering far too long in the silent prison.

Olivia's nails dug into her palms, but she felt no pain.

The officer's voice was calm, low, and unforgiving.

"Who wants to speak first? I've got a headache today, and I'm not in the mood for nonsense. First one to talk gets to live."

The officer then pointed to another one.

"Your turn."

"M-me? I run a goldsmith's shop across the street! Ask anyone! I'm not a spy, I swear!"

Bang.

Another shot.

Olivia unconsciously scooted back, her heartbeat loud in her ears.

Is this what rebirth was?

Was she really going to die eighteen years earlier than she had in her past life?

The officer glanced at the terrified prisoners.

"Seems none of you want to talk. Fine. Take a few days to think it over."

He stepped out of the men's cell... and unlocked Olivia's.

Towering over her, he crouched down and grabbed her chin, forcing her to look up at him.

"Your turn. Where are your accomplices hiding?" he demanded, his gaze icy and intense.

The standard response – "I'm not a spy" – meant death.

This officer clearly didn't care about killing the wrong person. He needed results, and fear was his weapon.

Olivia's heart pounded, but her eyes remained calm.

"You've had that headache for more than two months now, haven't you? I can treat it. If I ease your pain, can you give me a chance to explain?"

The officer's expression shifted slightly.

Olivia carefully raised her hand.

Her fingers were slender, smooth, and lightly pearlescent – impeccably well-maintained.

A beautiful hand.

The officer hesitated for a moment.

Olivia pressed her hand gently against his abdomen, just above his navel.

She then increased the pressure slightly, tracing a firm line from his navel downward, repeating the motion five times.

His expression flickered.

That unbearable, stabbing pain piercing his skull suddenly dulled. The sharp, prickling sensation along his scalp faded almost instantly.

The relief was undeniable.

"I am Smith Wolfpack's daughter, sir. I can relieve your pain – permanently – if you let me. Please give me time to prove I'm innocent," Olivia said softly, her gaze steady.

The officer stared at her for a long moment.

She thought he might reject her. Or agree.

She didn't expect him to yank her to her feet and pull her into his arms.

His lips crashed against hers.

His breath was hot and sharp, consuming her in an instant.

In the back of her mind, Olivia's wolf, Stella, stirred and whispered one word.

Mate.

Olivia was released from the cell.

But instead of being sent home, she found herself escorted to a small villa with a private courtyard.

The villa had two floors, high walls, and two armed guards stationed at the gate.

Standing on the second-floor balcony, Olivia gripped the railing, her heart sinking.

Is this just another cage? When can I go home?

She deliberately ignored the way her wolf, Stella, reacted – overly restless ever since she encountered the officer.

Olivia chalked it up to prison nerves. She had long given up on the idea of ever meeting her fated mate.

There were bigger priorities. She had to change her fate this time around. Half the suffering she endured in her past life came at the hands of her half-sister, Aria.

And step one? Stop Aria from marrying into the Clark Wolfpack.

Just as that thought crossed her mind, the door creaked open.

The young officer from the prison walked in.

He was taller and more imposing than most wolves Olivia had ever met.

And easily the most handsome man she'd seen – in both her lifetimes combined.

"You said you're the daughter of the Smith Wolfpack...?" he said, settling onto a small sofa. His gaze flicked up as he motioned toward her with his chin.

"I am," Olivia replied, then added quickly, "I was married a few days ago. I'm now the daughter-in-law of the Brown Wolfpack. Smith Wolfpack produces a werewolf with a rare medical gift every few generations. In my generation... that's me."

The man said.

"I thought Aria Smith was the one with the a rare medical gift. She's the Perfect Doctor."

Olivia's expression darkened slightly.

"She's not," Olivia said evenly. "She can't even recite Wolfblood Medicine: Healing and Healthcare properly. I'm the Perfect Doctor. I can prove it."

The man raised a brow, intrigued.

"Your skills are decent. My headache's almost gone. But making a diagnosis without even checking me? Sounds more like luck."

Olivia met his gaze. "I've seen cases like yours before. But yes, an examination is necessary to confirm the diagnosis."

The man lifted his hand casually. "Go ahead."

As Olivia stepped closer, he suddenly pulled his hand back.

She hesitated, confused.

He rested his hand over his abdomen.

"Closer," he murmured with a smirk. "Don't be shy, little Perfect Doctor."

His tone was teasing.

Olivia moved in, only to find herself standing between his legs.

She froze.

Before she could step back, he grabbed her arm and pulled her straight into his lap, locking his legs around her.

"Wha–"

Before she could protest, his lips crashed onto hers.

The kiss was fierce, his tongue parting her lips and deepening without hesitation.

His hold tightened, as if he wanted to consume every bit of her breath.

Olivia shoved at his chest, twisting away.

"S-stop! You can't!" she gasped, cheeks flushed. "I–I have a husband!"

The man chuckled low, his grip unrelenting.

"Husband? Then why are you so inexperienced? What's the matter? He can't handle you?"

Olivia's face burned with fury.

"Your scent," he mused, nuzzling closer, "it dulls the pain. Echinacea."

Inside Olivia's head, her wolf Stella practically shrieked.

Olivia! Only a fated mate can detect that scent! He's our mate!

Olivia ignored Stella's excitement.

"I'll make you proper painkillers," she muttered, squirming to free herself.

"You're enough to stop the pain," he replied smoothly.

"Let go!" Olivia's voice sharpened. "Keep this up, and I swear I'll take you down with me."

After a moment, he released her.

Olivia scrambled to her feet, adjusting her clothes as she stepped back.

"Be my mistress. It'll benefit both you and your husband," he said casually, lounging back on the sofa, long legs crossed.

Olivia's lips tightened.

"Send me home. I'll make the medicine for you. I'm not a spy – feel free to investigate my entire bloodline."

The man studied her for a long moment.

"You really don't know who I am?"

Olivia shook her head.

"I'm Alexander Clark," he said.