Chapter 10 Chapter ten
Zarlia knew she shouldn’t be interested but her curiosity got the better of her which made her stay up late googling about werewolves. At first, she didn’t think Stetson was actually one until the results from her search matched Stetson a little too perfectly.
Most of her research said werewolves were fictional—as if.
She adjusted on her bed, drawing her laptop closer to her. Her eyes scanning the internet like it was her life’s purpose, she wanted to understand—understand Stetson. Why she felt the way she did when he was close to her. Why she felt like a part of her was missing when he wasn’t with her.
And more importantly—her hand brushed the mark on her nape—why he bit her. Was she going to turn into a werewolf? Or did it mean something else?
Most of what she found was useless. Some blogs claimed werewolves could only be killed with silver bullets, others said they fed on human flesh under every full moon. One even claimed they’ve gone extinct, more showed her that they were gods some people worship. Frustration hit her like a bullet, eyes already getting tired and angry.
The most annoying one of all said they could smell lies and read thoughts. Ridiculous.
They were nothing but propaganda and straight up bullshit.
She frowned, scrolling faster, irritation tugging at her nerves. “None of these makes sense”, she muttered under her breath.
She clicked on another link—a conspiracy website with a flashing red headline: “Real Werewolf Sightings in Eastern Europe”. It was filled with grainy pictures and stories of people who’d gone missing near forests. Zarlia rolled her eyes.
Then something caught her attention.
A link buried at the bottom of the page led to an older newspaper scan from decades ago. The title read:
“WEREWOLF CLAN MASSACARED IN RUSSIAN HIGHLANDS—LOCALS CLAIM CREATURES WERE REAL”.
Her breath hitched. The date was from over 60 years ago.
She leaned closer, her fingers tense against the touch pad as she scrolled through the faded article. It spoke of a hidden society—packs that lived among humans, keeping to themselves until a group of hunters exposed them. There were images—families, men with sharp eyes, women clutching children. And then, bodies. Burned, lifeless.
Then another article by a blogger named Mimi Jay caught her attention. “WOLVES BENEATH THE SURFACE”, it read.
Mimi Jay believed that werewolves still exist and that they live separately. Some werewolf clans live among humans while some isolate themselves and hated humans. She also claimed that there are different types of werewolves who hold different positions; Alpha, Beta, Gemma, Luna, Omega.
Zarlia quickly entered Mimi’s page.
There were many other interesting things she said about werewolves, it partially made Zarlia want to believe Mimi was also a wolf. Her works, they were to detailed to be fake and too recent to be real, though she had a history of an old wolf clan in Romania.
Zarlia’s eyes scanned every blog, post, videos but there was nothing on bite marks—only a page talking about an alpha finding his mate.
“Mate…”, Zarlia tested the word in her mouth like it was poison.
She sat back, the glow from her laptop screen washing her face in pale white. Her mind clogged with possibilities, equally terrifying.
Was she Stetson’s mate?
Or was it something else?
The clock on her wall struck three. She didn’t even realize how long she’d been reading. With a shaky breath, she shut her laptop.
Sleep didn’t come easily that night. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw his eyes—the way they burned when he looked at her. The way his voice dropped when he said her name.
And the way her body reacted, as if it already knew he wasn’t entirely human.
\- - - - - -
Luke sighed; he’d never seen his boos like this—like his control is about to slip. He believed all Alphas were gifted with the strength to control their wolves but seeing Stetson’s bloodshot eyes only made him weary, even Stacy wasn’t able to make him feel this way.
The morning light slipped through the windows of Stetson’s office, catching the edge of his desk in a dull glow. He hadn’t slept much—Asher hadn’t allowed him to. The wolf had been restless all night, pacing inside his head, growling one word over and over.
“Mate.”
Stetson clenched his jaw. “Not now”.
A knock came at the door. “Sir?”, Luke’s voice carried from outside.
“Come in.”
Luke stepped in, holding a small black velvet box. “The ring you requested arrived early this morning”.
Stetson’s gaze dropped to it. The silver band gleamed faintly, engraved with thin crescent markings—the kind that could suppress an Alpha’s link to his wolf. He reached for it, his fingertips brushing the cold metal.
Asher snarled instantly. “You’d cage me? For her?”
Stetson ignored him, sliding the ring onto his finger. The air around him shifted—his chest tightened, his vision dulled, and the constant low hum of Asher’s presence dimmed to a whisper. Silence filled his head.
It was unsettling.
Stetson never believed he needed things like this to suppress his wolf, he was always in control, he always had the upper hand—he was an Alpha so naturally he should be able to control his wolf and his has… not until Zarlia Shaw walked into his life—Asher can’t seem to sit still.
“Will that… help, sir?” Luke asked carefully.
“It’ll do”, Stetson muttered, flexing his hand. The band felt heavier than it should.
Luke hesitated. “About the new secretary—Zarlia Shaw—she’s waiting outside for the morning briefing”.
Of course, she was. Stetson leaned back in his chair, trying to shake off the sudden awareness that came with her name. even suppressed, Aher stirred fainty, “She’s close. Mate”.
“Send her in”, Stetson said faintly.
The door opened again, and she stepped in—heels clicking softly against the floor, a folder hugged to her chest. Her hair was tied back today, a poor attempt to look composed, but the faint blush on her cheeks betrayed her nerves.
Luke began his usual rapid-fire briefing—numbers, meetings, clients—but Stetson barely heard any of it. The moment Zarlia entered the room, the air shifted. Even with Asher muffled beneath the ring’s spell, his senses sharpened. Her scent—warm, familiar, maddening—wrapped around him like static.
Zarlia, meanwhile, tried to focus on Luke’s voice. But something in the room felt off. A subtle pressure in her chest. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled as though she was standing too close to a live wire.
What she didn’t know was that the suppression ring had muted not only Asher—but the natural pull between them. To Stetson, the silence felt like suffocation. To Zarlia, like confusion.
“Zarlia”, Luke said suddenly, snaping her out of her thoughts. “You’ll be accompanying Mr. Vale to his meeting at eleven. Bring the project summaries and last week’s notes, they are with Miss Nelly”.
She nodded quickly, “Yes sir”.
Stetson’s gaze lingered a second too long. She looked up, catching his eyes—and something flickered there. Something unreadable—but at least he wasn’t angry anymore.
“Dismissed”, he said finally, voice low and sharp enough to make her flinch.
She turned to leave, her pulse racing for reasons she didn’t understand.
The moment the door closed; Stetson pressed a hand to his temple. The ring was doing its job but at price. His chest fell hollow, his wolf’s presence faint but angry.
“You’re starving us”, he growled, faint and distant. “You can’t fight the bond forever”.
Stetson exhaled slowly, “Watch me”