Torn Between The Alpha And The Billionaire

The late afternoon sun filtered through the canopy, casting long shadows across the disturbed earth where Mara knelt. Her hands, now protected by latex gloves from her journalism kit, trembled slightly as she documented the scene. The camera's soft clicking seemed unnaturally loud in the heavy silence of the forest.

She forced herself to be methodical, professional, even as her heart hammered against her ribs. Each photo needed to be perfect—evidence of whatever horror she had stumbled upon. The partially exposed arm lay there, a grotesque reminder of mortality amid the peaceful forest setting. But something about it seemed... wrong.

Mara leaned closer, her breath catching in her throat. The arm wasn't just hairy—it was covered in what looked like thick fur, matted with mud and dried blood. Her fingers hovered over it, not quite touching, as she tried to make sense of what she was seeing. The proportions seemed off too, the fingers slightly too long, the joints not quite right.

Then she saw the eyes.

They were partially visible through the disturbed soil, glazed over in death but unmistakable. Even clouded, they held a distinctive yellow hue—the same haunting shade that had pursued her through the darkness. The memory of those eyes, burning through the night, sent a shiver down her spine.

"What are you?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Her hands shook as she reached for her phone. Whatever this was, whatever she had found, the police needed to know. She had just pulled it from her pocket when a voice cut through the silence, smooth and dangerous as a blade.

"You just couldn't stay away, could you?"

The words froze her blood. Mara's foot slipped in the mud as she spun around, sending her crashing backward. Her phone flew from her grip, landing with a soft thud in the wet earth. She scrambled away, her hands sinking into the cold mud as she stared up at the figure looming over her.

Elijah stood there, his tall frame blocking out the dying sunlight. His presence seemed to fill the entire clearing, making the air itself feel heavier. His face was calm—too calm—but his eyes held something dark and ancient that made her heart stutter.

"You—" she choked out, continuing to back away. "You're a murderer!"

His lips curved into something that might have been a smile, but there was no warmth in it. He took a step forward, then another, each movement deliberate and predatory. Mara's hand found her phone in the mud, and she held it up like a shield.

"I'm calling the police," she said, trying to keep her voice steady despite the terror clawing at her throat. "Don't come any closer!"

Elijah's expression didn't change, but his eyes—those impossibly dark eyes—began to shift. The black bled away, replaced by a dim, pulsing red that seemed to glow from within. It was beautiful and terrifying, like watching a solar eclipse that might burn out your eyes.

"No," he said simply, his voice resonating with power. "You're not."

Mara blinked, and he was gone. The space where he had stood was empty, as if he had never been there at all. Her heart stopped for a fraction of a second, her mind unable to process what she had just seen.

Then she felt it—a presence behind her, the whisper of breath against her neck. Strong fingers wrapped around her throat, not squeezing, but holding with impossible strength. She tried to scream, but no sound came out.

"Sleep," Elijah's voice commanded, soft and deadly.

The world tilted sideways, colors bleeding into darkness at the edges of her vision. The last thing she saw was the disturbed earth where the creature lay buried, its yellow eyes seeming to watch her even in death. Then everything went black.

Elijah caught her as she slumped backward, preventing her from hitting the ground too hard. He laid her down with surprising gentleness, his expression unreadable as he studied her unconscious form. Then he reached for her phone, still clutched in her mud-stained hand.

The device crumpled like paper in his grip, circuits and screen crackling as they surrendered to his inhuman strength. He tossed the remains aside, turning his attention to the partially uncovered body. With efficient movements, he began replacing the soil, covering all evidence of what lay beneath.

When he was done, he stood over Mara's unconscious form, running a hand through his dark hair with a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of centuries.

"What a drag," he muttered, his voice carrying notes of both irritation and something deeper—perhaps regret. The dim red of his eyes faded back to black as he looked down at her, mud-stained and vulnerable in the fading light.

He hadn't wanted this. Hadn't wanted to involve anyone else in the ancient wars that plagued his kind. But she had stumbled into his world now, and there was no going back. The question was: what was he going to do with her?

The forest watched in silence as Elijah bent down to lift Mara's limp form. The shadows had grown longer, darker, and somewhere in the distance, a wolf howled—a mournful sound that seemed to echo the complexity of the moment.

This was only the beginning.