The alpha's wounded heart

Every time Aria Lane looked back, she saw no one. She couldn't shake the feeling that someone, or something, had been following her. As she walked, the sensation only intensified. Still, she saw nothing. She hadn't expected the streets to be this empty at that hour, which is why she had overstayed at the hospital.

She glanced back one more time. Still no one. Her pace quickened. The faster she walked, the more convinced she became that whatever was following her was matching her speed.

This time, she was too afraid to turn around. She could hear the footsteps now heavy and deliberate behind her. Every instinct screamed for her to look back, but fear held her captive. If ghosts or vampires were real, was she the first to be ambushed? The thought only heightened her terror.

The footsteps grew louder and closer. With trembling hands, she unzipped her handbag, struggling to retrieve her phone. Normally it would take her a second. Now it felt like a lifetime. Her hands, slick with sweat, fumbled with the lock screen. The fingerprint wouldn't work, and her trembling made typing impossible. After several failed attempts, the screen finally unlocked.

She dialed 999.

But before she could hit "call," she was shoved from behind. Her phone flew from her hand and skidded several meters away. She cried out as she hit the ground. Groaning, she looked up and froze.

The man standing over her wore a black mask. His eyes were the only visible part of his face-cold, taunting. A dagger glinted in his hand.

"H-Hey... if you want money, I'll give you everything I have, I swear. Just don't hurt me... You can even take my phone-it's expensive," she stammered, inching backward on her hands.

The man advanced slowly, laughing, the blade teasing her cheek. "You're worth more than money, pretty girl," he sneered, squatting in front of her. "Bad idea to walk alone at night. But lucky for me."

He grabbed her wrist and yanked her up, his grip so tight it hurt.

"Where are you taking me? Please let me go!" Aria cried, struggling to free herself.

He didn't respond. He just kept dragging her, ignoring her pleas. Panic gripped her. She had to do something-anything. Her only option... was to bite him.

The idea disgusted her, but desperation overruled everything. She whispered a shaky prayer, closed her eyes, and sank her teeth into his hand with all the strength she could muster.

The man cried out and released her.

She ran.

Her first thought was to retrieve her phone, but when she picked it up, it had shut off. Behind her, she heard footsteps again. She looked back-the man was charging toward her. Her knee, injured during the earlier fall, made running harder. She didn't get far before he caught up.

"Come here, little brat!" he snapped, grabbing her braids and yanking hard.

"You think you can get away? I'll catch you every time," he snarled, dragging her back.

"Please, sir... please let go," she whimpered through tears. "I promise to give you everything..."

The man didn't care. He crossed the road, pulling her toward an abandoned building. Aria trembled harder. She felt hopeless until headlights cut through the night.

A car.

The man tried to rush her across the street, but she planted her feet, refusing to move. Either the driver would save her or hit her; anything was better than what awaited her in that building.

To her dismay, the car swerved and passed them.

Hope shattered. She let him drag her again, her eyes fixed on the ground. But then-suddenly-his grip vanished.

"Hey... are you okay?"

The voice wasn't his. She blinked and looked up. The masked man was on the ground. Another man stood near her.

"You... did you kill him?" she asked, stepping back, trembling in fear.

"No. I just hit him. He'll wake up, sooner or later, that shouldn't bother you though" the man said calmly.

She glanced at the car-the same one that had passed them. So he had turned back?

Still trembling, she eyed the stranger with suspicion. He stepped closer.

"I'm a good person. I promise," he said gently. "Your knee's swollen, and your hands are bruised."he said examining her.

Tears streamed down her face as she finally broke down. When she finished, he handed her a handkerchief.

"It's clean," he said, with a reassuring smile, after seeing that she was reluctant to accept it.

She wiped her tears and followed his gaze to her knee, now bloodied and raw. She regretted not wearing trousers, if he had worn them then maybe she could not be this injured, her dress had done nothing to protect her skin.

"I've got a first aid kit in my car. I can help," he offered.

"It's okay. I live just down the street. I'll clean it at home. You've already done enough, thank you for coming back, at first i thought that you had gone....i'm really thankful," she said, trying as hard as she to smile.

She walked a few steps away before someone gently grabbed her arm. She almost screamed-until she saw it was him. His face was no longer calm.

"Wh-what are you doing sir?" She asked trembling in fear. How much was she going to go through this night? What day was it? He didn't answer and he pulled her towards the car, his grip very firm that she couldn't even move her hand. He opened the door, and instructed, "Let me see your knee."

She sat silently as he cleaned and bandaged her wounds. His anger softened with every gentle movement.

" you cant walk home like this.... I'll take you," he said, fastening her seatbelt.

"I'm Lucien....and just to keep the record straight im nkt interestef in you. Im just helping you out. So dont get the dumb idea that maybe i want something in return or....." he stopped and looked at her , while driving. "What's your name?"

She hesitated.

"Aria... Aria Lane," she whispered after a moment.

"So Aria.....why were you walking on the street alone so late at night," he looked at her. "Aren't your parents worried about you being out so late?"

"I live alone. Parents are dead. Grandma's in the hospital. No one's waiting for me... but I'm fine now, aren't I?" she said, her voice low.

Lucien stopped the car. He looked at her, then turned it around.

"We're going to my house. It's safer."

"What? What do you mean its safer? I've been living on my own since I was sixteen. I'm twenty now. I can take care of myself,....just drop me here I'll go on my own" she insisted, calm but firm.

"I know you can. But just for now you are injured

who will take care of you? You won't even be able to sleep tonight after what happened. I can tell you're still scared," he said softly. "And you still look like I'm about to kidnap you....can you relax....just a bit" He was starting to get upset and Aria knew it was better to keep quiet because she was still in a strangers car.

I had to let him lead me once we got inside the house. It was pretty big, and since I was a stranger here, all I could do was follow his instructions. My head was still aching, which is why I didn't argue when he insisted I stay. Maybe he sensed it, because he went to the kitchen and returned with a glass of water and some painkillers. I felt relieved-I didn't even know how to start explaining my headache or ask for medicine.

In the short time we had interacted, I had already noticed that he didn't talk much but only when necessary. That might have been another reason as to why I didn't protest. I was certain he hadn't brought me here to harm me. If he had bad intentions, he wouldn't have saved me earlier. Something about him felt genuine, like he meant well.

Besides, I knew I wouldn't have been able to sleep if I'd gone home alone. I'd have been terrified in my own house, traumatized by what had happened. There's no way I'd be able to close my eyes peacefully.

"Don't think too much... Let's go upstairs."

I looked up at him when he said those words. His voice was calm and quiet, but I couldn't read his mood. His face remained unreadable. He turned and led the way, and I followed.

Everyone dreams of living in a beautiful house-but never in my wildest dreams had I imagined a house like this. Everything was huge, clean, and perfectly arranged. The furnishing was elegant, everything in its place with a grace that spoke of wealth and taste.

We walked up the stairs to the first floor. I'm a keen observer, and I'd already taken in all the rooms around us. He paused for a few seconds, then took my hand. I followed as he opened a door. If I was right, this was a master bedroom. If I was wrong, then all the bedrooms in this house must be grand.

We hadn't even stepped inside yet, but I could already tell how luxurious it was. He led me in, and just like I thought-it was magnificent. A large canopy bed stood in the center with side tables and lamps. Huge wardrobes lined the wall, neatly filled with various clothes. The ones that needed hangers were hung; the rest were folded perfectly. Another wardrobe, specifically for shoes, sat to the side-also large and packed with different types of footwear. If I tried counting them all, it would take forever.

Across the room stood a huge curved television, and next to it, a translucent glass door led into what had to be the bathroom. I was busy admiring everything when my eyes settled on one of the bedside tables. It had a framed photo-of him. So this was his room? I was surprised.

"You can use this."

His voice snapped me back to reality. I turned quickly to face him. He was holding out a white towel. I wasn't stupid-I knew what that meant. But wait, was I expected to shower in his room? And why had he brought me here? This house was massive; there had to be guest rooms. He could have easily placed me in one. I wouldn't have minded-it would still have been better than mine.

"By the time you're done, I'll already be out of the room," he said calmly, as if reading my thoughts. "I'll try and find something from the wardrobe that might fit you. Be quick-I'll be back in twenty minutes."

Without another word, I headed to the bathroom. It was bigger than any normal one, complete with a bathtub and a rain shower. I didn't have time for a bath, so I opted for the shower-it was faster. Still, I took my time scrubbing thoroughly, applying lots of shower gel. I felt like the stench of that brat from earlier was still clinging to my skin.

Once done, I returned to the bedroom and found a satin nightdress laid out. Where did he get that from? Did it belong to his girlfriend? And if it did, why would he give it to me? But as I examined it, I realized it looked brand new. Without overthinking it, I slipped it on. I didn't want him to return and find me still wrapped in a towel.

A few minutes later, the door opened and he came in, carrying a small tin.

"Looks good on you," he said, walking over. "I bought it for my ex, but I guess it has a new owner now."

He knelt down and gently unwrapped my knee. The tin had hot water, and using a cloth, he cleaned the wound and pressed it to ease the swelling. Thankfully, I wasn't limping-thank God for that.

"Want to eat something? I'm not a good cook, but I made some noodles. If you don't like them, we can order something," he said once he was done tending to my injury.

"There's no need... I'll just have the noodles."

Honestly, I was starving, and I couldn't wait for takeout. Plus, I'm not much of a foodie-most of it would go to waste anyway. Noodles would do just fine.

We headed downstairs for the meal. I had so many questions burning inside me, and I couldn't hold back anymore.

"Do you live here alone?"

That was my first question, and he answered openly.

"Currently, yes. I used to live with my ex but now..." He paused. That was enough for me. No need to dig further.

"So since it's only you now, how do you manage? Like, cleaning and everything?"

Forgive my nosiness, but the house was massive. It couldn't be easy to handle alone.

"My ex fired every house help I hired," he said, sipping from a glass of juice, not even looking at me. "After she left, I fired everyone else too. I manage okay-some cleaners come twice a week."

It felt like he wanted to end the conversation, and knowing my place, I didn't ask more.

"You'll use my bedroom tonight," he said once we were back on the first floor. "I'll be in the other one. Sleep well."

And just like that, he left. I watched him walk to another room and lock the door behind him. I did the same. He didn't even give me a chance to say thank you-or mention that I'd have preferred a different bedroom. How could he give me the master bedroom and then leave to sleep on the guest room? Was that even making sene?

But at that point, all I wanted was sleep. I didn't want anything else to distract me. I didn't want to think about what had happened earlier and risk having nightmares.

I slipped into bed and buried myself under the covers. I didn't even turn off the lights-I hate darkness.

******

While still in the car, I had noticed Aria had a headache. Her eyes were red, and veins pulsed visibly near her temples. I had painkillers but no water, which is why I waited until we got home to give her some. I'm not good at taking care of strangers.

I have been avoiding the master bedroom since my girlfriend broke up with me,been sleeping in the guest room ever since. That room is filled with memories that haunt me. I still love her so much, and I don't think I'll ever be able to lie in that bed again without her beside me.

I miss her every single day, but I don't even know how to reach out. A grown man in his ealry thirties yet I'm already drowning in heartbreak. I drink to distract myself from the depression, but it never really goes away. I doubt I'll ever be able to love again. Every time I try to forget her, something triggers the memories, and I find myself longing for her all over again.

We were happy-at least I was happy. Now, all I have are distant echoes of what used to be. Since the breakup, I haven't dated anyone else. Not because I'm afraid of falling in love and getting hurt again-but because she was it, and if it's not her, then no one else mattered. I gave her everything-my heart, my soul, my mind.

Bringing Aria home tonight was the first time ive brought someone here. I've never brought another girl into this house since Elodie left. I wouldn't have done it under normal circumstances, but I don't even know what came over me. Maybe it was emotion. Maybe it was sympathy.

It's been a year and three months since we broke up, and I haven't touched another woman. That's how much Elodie means to me. Sure, I get lonely. But I've learned to live with it. Maybe my heart was meant for her and only her-and that's why it's so hard to move on.

As much as I want to let go, I also don't want to. For the past three years, she was my life-my everything. And the idea of forgetting her completely... It scares me.

Because if someone asked me right now whether I want to forget her, my answer would be no. Not even a tiny piece of her.

I couldn't sleep no matter how hard I tried. The bed had huge pillows, fresh sheets, and a sweet scent lingering in the air, but no sleep came. I tossed and turned, trying to figure out what was wrong. For over two hours, I lay awake, restless. My phone had already gone off, but I could tell the time from the bedside table clock. Maybe the problem was that the bed was too big. Or maybe because this was a new place. I was in someone else's room. I felt out of place. And on top of that, earlier events kept flashing in my head. I also had my grandma to worry about.

And a job to show up to in the morning. Maybe if I were in my own bed, things would've been easier.

Well, I have sleeping pills. I take them every night before bed because, without them, sleep never comes. Tossing and turning wasn't going to help, so I decided to look for Lucien. I had seen him enter a room earlier and thanks to my curiosity, I had peeped just long enough to know which one it was. Otherwise, I wouldn't have known where to find him. The place had too many rooms.

I slid out of bed slowly, opened the door gently, and tiptoed across the hallway. I passed two doors before reaching the one at the far end. I wasn't sure why I was tiptoeing-I think I didn't want to wake him. If he was asleep, I wouldn't disturb him. But if he was awake, I'd ask for something to help me sleep. Hopefully, he'd have something.

I raised my hand to knock but stopped. I heard soft sobs. At first, I thought I was imagining it, so I leaned closer. The sobs continued. I looked around to confirm the room. I tiptoed back to my room to double-check. Was there someone else in the house? I thought it was just the two of us. Could it be his ex-girlfriend? But the sobs sounded like a man's. A brother? A cousin?

But no-I had seen Lucien enter that exact room. Could it really be him?

I returned to the door. The sobbing hadn't stopped. I pressed the handle and the door creaked open. Apparently, it hadn't been locked. I peeped inside. My eyes scanned the bed, the wardrobe, the corners. I almost forgot about the sobbing. Then my gaze found him.

Lucien.

He was curled up on the bed, back facing me, body trembling softly. I stepped into the room, walking as gently as possible. I thought maybe he was crying in his sleep, but his eyes were wide open. He was crying and fully aware of it.

I paused, unsure. I'd never seen a man cry before. What could be hurting him so deeply? And why hadn't he noticed I was there?

I gently tapped his shoulder. No response. Just more sobbing. I began to worry. Had something tragic happened? Why was he crying?

"Hey... are you okay?" I asked softly, almost whispering. It was a dumb question, I know. Of course, he wasn't okay. His sobs grew louder. Had I just made it worse?

"Sir... let me get you some water. Maybe it'll help," I offered. He didn't speak. Just kept sobbing. If we weren't strangers, maybe I would've asked what was wrong. But we barely knew each other. I didn't want to intrude. Personal pain is a sacred thing. If he didn't want to share, I wasn't going to pry.

I hurried downstairs to get a glass of water. It didn't take long to see the kitchen earlier. On my way back up, I wondered if he'd even take the water. Or would he ignore me?

When I returned, he was sitting upright on the bed, head down, hands over his face. I walked in quietly and stood in front of him.

"Here's your water, sir," I said gently, offering it to him. But he didn't look up.

I stood there awkwardly. Rejected. Embarrassed. I wasn't trying to be a hero-just helpful. I wasn't sure if I'd watched too many movies, but water always seemed like the go-to gesture when someone was crying. Maybe real life didn't work that way.

Two minutes passed. He didn't move. I quietly placed the glass on the bedside table.

"Goodnight, sir," I said and turned to leave.

I had barely taken a step when I froze. His hands were around my waist-he was hugging me from behind. I went numb for a moment. I hadn't expected that.

"Can you hug me, please?" His voice was soft. Fragile. So broken.

He was already hugging me, but maybe he needed something deeper. A real hug. But am I supposed to do that? Is it the right thing to do? And besides, we don't even know each other; what If he misinterpreted it? I was torn between leaving the room immediately and giving in. This man had helped me earlier and if it wasn't for him, I can't even tell what would have befallen me. A little hug wouldn't cause any damage, would it?

I turned around slowly and wrapped my arms around him. It had been so long since I'd held anyone like this. His sobs returned, deeper now.

"It's getting heavy inside," he whispered between sobs.

"It hurts so much. I can't control it anymore... I don't know what to do. I feel like I'm breaking."

His voice was shattered. His pain is open. All I could do was hold him tighter.

"It's okay not to be okay... Lucien," I whispered, gently

."You'll be over it....you will be fine" I whispered again.

He had helped me when I was in need. Now, it was my turn. If he needed a shoulder to cry on, I would give him mine.

And in that hug, I realized it might've been the hug I needed too. I have been bottling up things, If someone gave me hugs like this, maybe I could be alright. But where could I have gotten one?