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The man in the hood burst into the hidden chamber behind the old bookcase—an office so secret only two people knew it existed. The scent of old cigars and pinewood filled the narrow space as he stumbled forward, blood dripping from his trembling hands, staining the floor beneath him.

He dropped to his knees, panting, his voice breathless. “I’m sorry it took me this long. But I did it—I made sure the knife went in deep. He won’t survive. I’m sure of it.”

The figure seated in the high-back leather chair didn’t turn immediately. He remained silent, the dim light catching the smoke from his cigarette as he took one last drag. Then, slowly, the old man twisted around, his grizzled face revealing neither shock nor satisfaction—just a cold, calculating calm.

“You used the right knife?” he asked, voice rough like sandpaper.

“Yes,” the man in the hood nodded eagerly. “I laced the blade with wolfsbane and mistletoe. Even if he was Alpha, it won’t save him now.”

A small, crooked smile curled on the old man’s lips. “You’ve done well,” he said. “I also heard Andrea refused the leadership role… as expected. If she had succeeded in killing him, she would’ve been our new Alpha asset. Pity.”

He exhaled, flicking ashes onto the floor. “I sent her a message. She should be arriving soon. You can go. We’ll talk later.”

The man in the hood bowed again, rising slowly with blood still crusted on his fingers. Without a word, he exited, leaving behind a silence thick with impending fate.

Not five minutes passed when the door creaked open again. Andrea stepped in quietly, her shoulders tense, her eyes red-rimmed and glossy with tears. She looked pale—haunted even—as if her soul had been hollowed out.

She didn’t speak right away. Instead, she dropped into the seat across from the old man like a defeated soldier returning from a war she didn’t sign up for.

“I’m here,” she finally whispered, avoiding his gaze. “So… what do you want me to do now?”

The old man didn’t reply immediately. He crushed the dying cigarette under his boot and then leaned forward, his voice sharp like a whip.

“Don’t answer me with questions, Andrea. You thought you could just run off after everything? You think love excuses betrayal?” His lips curled in disdain. “You’re foolish. You never once thought about your family, did you?”

Andrea clenched her jaw. Her fingers dug into the armrest of the chair.

“You should have thought critically about your parents before falling for him,” he continued. “If that Alpha isn’t dead, your family will be.”

His words stabbed at her conscience like knives, but Andrea said nothing. Her face twitched—pain flickering across her features. The guilt, the torment, the heartbreak—it was all there, etched plainly in her expression.

The old man’s gaze narrowed. “You know the story about Jaxon, don’t you?”

Andrea’s lips parted slightly. She wanted to speak—to scream even—but instead, she shook her head slowly. “No… I don’t.”

He smiled grimly. “Then let me enlighten you.”

He rose, pacing the floor slowly like a professor giving a lesson too dark for any classroom.

“Jaxon is no ordinary Alpha. He is the Alpha of one of the most powerful wolf clans in history. But that’s not why we want him dead. No, Andrea. He is what we call a Demon Alpha—a bloodline cursed and chosen. If he lives, his pack grows more vicious. Already they’re spreading, destroying, killing innocents. The only way to destroy a demonic pack… is to cut off its head.”

Andrea sat frozen, lips trembling, a single tear slipping down her cheek.

“He didn’t want to accept his Alpha role at first,” the old man continued, voice quieter now. “Not after his mate died of a mysterious illness. He abandoned his pack. Disappeared. Changed his name. Came to the city. Started a company. Built a new life.”

He chuckled dryly. “You wouldn’t know from his arrogance that Jaxon is a CEO. Filthy rich. Cold, too. But he made friends—Jack, Rick—they met in school, bonded… and moved in together.”

Andrea’s eyes slowly widened as the weight of his words sank in. Her fists clenched in her lap. The air in the room grew heavier, suffocating.

“Why are you telling me all this?” she finally snapped, voice breaking. “Why now? Why do you care if I know about them or not?”

She stood suddenly, her chair scraping the floor, her voice rising with rage. “Why can’t you just let me go? Why can’t I live like a normal person? Why drag me back into this?”

Her chest heaved as she stared at the man with fiery tears burning down her face. “I’m dead to my hometown. They believe I’m gone. So why not let it stay that way?!”

The old man’s voice turned ice cold. “Because your bloodline matters. Because you’re the daughter of the Elders’ council. And because you matter to this mission.”

Andrea shook her head violently. “I don’t want this!” she screamed. “I didn’t ask to be a killer! I didn’t ask for this stupid war!”

He didn’t flinch. “You don’t have to understand. Just know this—if you don’t kill him, your parents die. Your sisters. Your people. And if you think Jaxon will protect you? He can’t even protect himself.”

Andrea’s hands trembled. Her knees weakened beneath her. Her heart pounded so loud she could barely hear herself think. But she didn’t argue anymore.

She turned and stumbled out of the office.

Outside, the wind hit her like a slap. Her steps were unsteady, and the tears wouldn’t stop flowing. She got into the car, slammed the door, and leaned forward, resting her forehead against the steering wheel as she sobbed.

The entire drive to the hospital was a blur. Her vision swam with tears, and her chest felt crushed beneath invisible weights.

When she arrived, she walked past the reception without greeting anyone, straight into the dim room where Jaxon lay—bandaged, bloodied, pale. A drip hung from his arm, his breathing shallow.

She stopped beside his bed, staring down at him. Her face collapsed into anguish.

“Oh God, Jaxon…” she whimpered. Her hands trembled as she reached for his, her fingers curling around his cold palm. She pressed her lips gently to his knuckles as tears dropped onto the sheets.

“I’m so sorry… This is all my fault.”

Her voice cracked. She could barely speak. “You shouldn’t have gone through this… If only I refused them from the start—but I couldn’t. I couldn’t refuse my family. My past. My duty…”

She leaned in closer, her voice almost a whisper now. “But I swear to you… I’ll never hurt you again. I won’t kill you. I won’t betray you anymore.”

She placed his hand against her cheek, closing her eyes as the tears kept falling.

Then, she whispered, almost to herself, “When I was trying to focus only on friendship and duty… you were the one who stood by me. You protected me… Even after everything that happened between us.”

She bit her lip, conflicted, shaking her head gently.

“Should I give you a second chance?” she murmured. “Should I let go of what you did to me… for the sake of our children?”

Her voice broke completely.

“I don’t want our babies to grow up without a father. I don’t want this pain anymore. I just want to let it all go, and… accept you back.”