Chapter 13 The Alpha at Her Door
Aurora:
The morning feels wrong the moment I open my eyes.
The air is too heavy, too still. The city hums quietly outside, but inside my apartment everything feels suspended, like the world is holding its breath.
In the next room, the twins are already awake. Aria hums softly as she builds a tower of cereal boxes while Lior tries to steal her spoon.
I smile despite the unease in my chest. Their laughter keeps me sane. Their existence is the only reason I still believe in anything good.
“Eat before it gets soggy,” I call out.
“Too late!” Lior yells, and Aria giggles.
For a few seconds, everything is ordinary. The smell of coffee, the cartoons in the background, the warmth of home. And then I hear it, the quietest sound, so faint most humans would never notice it. Footsteps on the landing outside.
I freeze, listening. One, two, pause. Slow. Controlled. Someone who knows how to move quietly.
The mark throbs again.
I shake it off and focus on the twins. Paranoia is part of the job. I have dealt with stalkers before, angry politicians, men who think a woman with a pen is a threat. But this feels different.
By the time we step into the hallway, the air has changed. The city outside looks washed out, colors muted, like the world is waiting for something. I tell myself it’s nothing.
I drop the kids at preschool, wave goodbye, and head to the office. The whole way, I feel watched. A black SUV sits a few cars behind me for three blocks before turning away. My pulse won’t calm, and the faint glow under my shirt refuses to fade.
By the time I get home that afternoon, the tension has settled in my bones. I double-check the locks, start coffee again, and open my laptop to finish the story. Words blur together. Numbers do not make sense. My chest feels tight.
The knock at the door comes at 9:27.
Sharp. Steady.
Not a neighbor. Not delivery.
Something inside me freezes. My instincts whisper one word: run.
Instead, I open the door.
And there he is.
Levi Kingston.
He stands in the doorway like a ghost that decided not to stay dead. The years have changed him, the tailored shirt rolled at the sleeves revealing the veins of his forearms. But it is his eyes that stop me, storm blue, flickering faintly with gold beneath the surface.
The scent hits next, smoke, pine, and something wild that makes my pulse trip over itself. For one terrible second, I can’t breathe.
“You’ve got the wrong apartment,” I say, voice sharper than I feel.
“No,” he says quietly, stepping closer. “I never did.”
My fingers tighten around the doorknob. “You need to leave.”
“Aurora"
“Don’t,” I cut in. “Don’t say my name like you still have the right to.”
He stops, jaw tight. For a moment, the silence between us feels alive. Then he says softly, “You are being watched.”
I laugh, bitter and disbelieving. “By you, apparently.”
“By worse things than me.”
His tone leaves no room for argument. I see it then...the power under his calm, the stillness that always meant danger. The wolf beneath the man.
“I am not here to hurt you,” he says. “But you need to listen to me. You are not safe.”
“I already know that.”
"They're getting close."
“They?” I demand. “Who are they?”
His answer comes slow, like every word costs him. “Not human.”
I laugh again because the alternative is screaming. “You can’t be serious.”
He lifts his gaze, and for the first time I see the gold take over completely. His pupils narrow, his power floods the air, thick and electric. The lights flicker. The air itself seems to breathe.
My mark burns in response, glowing through the fabric of my shirt. I stagger back.
“What did you do to me?” I whisper.
“Nothing you didn’t already feel,” he says quietly.
Before I can reply, a small voice cuts through the tension.
“Mommy?”
Aria stands at the hallway door, rubbing her eyes, a stuffed fox in her hand. Lior appears beside her, blinking sleepily.
The world stops moving.
Levi turns slowly, his eyes softening as they land on them. I see it hit him, the shock, the understanding. His breath catches, and when he looks back at me, he already knows.
“They’re mine,” he whispers.
The words slice through the air.
“They’re not your anything,” I snap. “You lost that right when you walked away.”
He steps closer. “You should have told me.”
“You should have stayed,” I fire back.
The space between us hums with something too old, too wild to name. My heartbeat matches his, the air thick with heat and fury.
The twins cling to my legs, frightened by the energy crackling between us. I force a breath, kneeling to them. “It’s okay, babies. Go wait in your room. Mommy’s just talking.”
They obey, glancing back at him with wide, curious eyes.
When they’re gone, I turn back to him. My voice shakes, but not from fear. “You don’t get to come back here and play protector. You don’t get to call them yours.”
“I never stopped being theirs,” he says. “Even when I didn’t know.”
“That’s not how fatherhood works.”
“Maybe not for men,” he says, voice rough, “but wolves do not forget blood.”
The air trembles again, charged and dangerous. I can feel the bond pulsing between us like a heartbeat shared by two people who should never touch again.
“Leave,” I whisper. “Before I start believing this isn’t a nightmare.”
He takes one step closer. “You wanted me gone once. I respected that. But now there are things coming for you that won’t stop at your door. They’ll burn everything to reach you. I won’t let that happen.”
“You can’t fix what you broke.”
“I can try,” he says simply.
The mark on my chest glows again, and through the thin fabric of his shirt, I see its twin burning faintly over his heart. The same rhythm, the same light.
Outside, thunder rolls across the city.
He steps closer until we’re inches apart. The air between us vibrates with power, scent, memory.
“You wanted me to believe you were human,” he murmurs. “You can’t, not anymore.”
“And you wanted to believe you could stay away,” I reply. “You can’t either.”
For a moment, it feels like the world might collapse right there between us.
Then Aria’s voice breaks the spell. “Mommy, Lior spilled the juice again!”
I blink. The glow fades. Levi exhales, stepping back.
Reality rushes in like cold air.
The sound of my children’s laughter fills the space again.
The man in front of me is still dangerous, still impossible, still mine in ways that don't make sense.
“Go,” I whisper, voice trembling. “Before they come back out.”
He nods once, eyes lingering on me as if trying to memorize every breath. Then he turns and leaves, closing the door behind him.
I stand there long after he’s gone, the mark still burning.
Outside, thunder rolls again, louder this time.
And somewhere deep in the night, a wolf howls.