Chapter 3 Warriors protection

"How are you, my princess?" Alpha Johnson's voice was gentle, carrying the kind of warmth every child dreamed of receiving from their father. His lips curved into a soft smile as his gaze settled on Helen.

"Daddy, I would like to see you," Helen said, her tone sharp, her eyes flickering in my direction with a look of pure disdain.

Her glance pierced through me like knives. What did I do to this girl? No matter what I said, no matter how I behaved, she always found a way to ruin my peace. It was as if my mere existence was an offense to her.

"Little Nora," Alpha Johnson said, turning to me. "I will talk to you later. I need to attend to my daughter first."

My heart clenched painfully at his words. The man who stood before me, the one who was supposed to protect me, to guide me, to value me as family, dismissed me with such ease. He chose Helen, again. He always chose Helen.

I tried to hold my composure, tried not to let my face betray the storm raging inside. "Okay," I whispered, nodding.

He rose to his feet, his presence filling the room like a shadow, and walked away with Helen without sparing me another glance.

I was left alone with my thoughts, my heart aching as though it had been torn into pieces. What was it he had wanted to tell me before Helen interrupted? Could it have been something about my dead parents? Some truth I had longed to hear? I would never know at least not now.

I sank deeper into the bed, the wooden frame creaking beneath me. The room fell silent, almost too silent, and the stillness pressed against my chest until it was hard to breathe. My mind drifted back into memories I had tried countless times to bury.

Why did life have to be this way? Why couldn't I have a father who put me first, just once, before anyone else?

I sighed and rubbed my temples. Maybe that was too much to wish for.

Everything that had happened to me lately, all the cruelty, all the whispers, made me wish I could just disappear. Maybe I could run away, like Helen's mother had done years ago. The stories still circled the pack, whispered with venom and curiosity.

When the burden of being Luna became too heavy, when Alpha Johnson stopped accepting her, Helen's mother had nearly turned into a servant within her own home. The rumors claimed it was because she and Alpha Johnson were not true mates he had chosen her, mated with her by his own will, and when the initial love faded, there was nothing left. The bond was shallow, fragile.

The pack members had complained, murmuring that it was doomed from the beginning, because only a chosen mate bond could hold true.

Eventually, Helen's mother ran away. She fled with her daughter, desperate to start over, to escape the suffocating life she had fallen into. But Alpha Johnson chased her down, tore Helen from her arms, and nearly killed her for the betrayal.

And yet... he adored Helen.

Even now, I still didn't understand why he loved her so much, why he could bend mountains just to see her smile. That girl, who wore cruelty on her lips as if it were lipstick, was the apple of his eye.

Sometimes I wondered what my uncle truly was. He wasn't just feared by the pack, he was revered. Even the elders, men who had lived through blood and war, bowed at his word. His dominance was unmatched, his power absolute. And yet... why did he treat me differently? Why was his love always so conditional?

The ache in my chest deepened.

A sudden knock on the wooden door broke my thoughts. The sound jolted me, sharp against the silence.

"Come in," I said softly, pulling the blanket tighter around me.

The door creaked open. The nurse entered first, her familiar smile bringing a small comfort. But behind her was someone else. A tall figure stepped into the room, his presence commanding, though not in the overbearing way of an alpha.

He was young, perhaps a few years older than me, yet his aura radiated strength. His pale skin carried a resemblance to my own, his curly short hair neat, his jaw strong. He was well-built, with broad shoulders stretching the fabric of his tunic, the definition of a warrior.

My breath caught in my throat. My jaw dropped before I could stop myself.

He was... breathtaking.

But it wasn't just his appearance that struck me. It was something else. Something deep in my veins stirred, a ripple beneath my skin, as if my very soul recognized him.

He smiled, and the room seemed brighter. "How are you doing, Nora?" His voice was deep, steady, the kind of voice that could anchor you even in a storm.

Shock flashed across my face. "I'm... getting better. But how do you know my name?"

The nurse chuckled lightly. "He is the warrior I told you about, the one who brought you in yesterday. If not for him, you might not be sitting here now."

Realization washed over me, followed by gratitude. My lips curved into a small smile. "Thank you... Thank you so much for saving me. Who knows what would have happened if you hadn't found me in time?"

He laughed gently. "I'm glad you can talk now. Yesterday, you were so unconscious, I thought you had died." His tone was playful, but the seriousness behind his eyes betrayed his words.

Relief and something else, something unexplainable warmed my chest.

"I'm Warrior Ellia," he said, stretching out his hand.

I hesitated for a moment, then placed my hand in his. "I'm Nora Anderson."

The instant our skin touched, a wave of heat surged through me, flooding my veins. It wasn't the tingling spark of a mate bond that the elders often described. No, this was different. Stronger in some ways, and yet not romantic.

It was as though my blood itself recognized him.

I stiffened, trying to hide my reaction, but Ellia's eyes narrowed slightly, as if he had felt it too.

A warm, almost electric current pulsed between us, leaving me breathless. My heart raced, not with desire, but with confusion.

What was this?

It couldn't be a mate bond. I had read enough, heard enough to know how a mate bond felt desire, passion, yearning. But this was something deeper. Something primal.

Like family.

I pulled my hand back quickly, my mind whirling. Why did this stranger, this warrior I had never met before, feel like... home?

Ellia tilted his head, studying me with unreadable eyes. "Strange," he murmured.

"What's strange?" I asked, my voice lower than a whisper.

For a heartbeat, silence hung heavy in the air.

Finally, he smiled again, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Nothing. I'm just glad you're safe, Nora."

But I wasn't convinced. That moment that spark lingered in my veins like an unspoken truth.

And I knew, deep down, that this wasn't the end. Whatever connected us wasn't chance.

It was blood.