Chapter 3: A fated Obsession

 A Fated Obsession

Alexander's POV

The office was shrouded in shadows, a testament to his own darkness. Dim, ambient lighting flickered against the obsidian walls, casting long, sinister lines that mirrored his mood. The only bright spot in the room was the massive digital screen that dominated the space, illuminating his hard features as he stared at her.

Elena Cross.

The grainy application photo glared back at him, and despite himself, Alexander felt his jaw clench. He loathed this—this inexplicable, primitive need to keep looking at her image, as if the answer to his discontent was hidden somewhere in the curve of her lips or the defiant glint in her eyes. He leaned forward, the leather of his chair creaking softly under the tension coiling in his muscles. Slowly, almost absently, he reached out and let his fingers hover over her face on the screen.

Nothing special, he told himself, but the words tasted like a lie. There was no denying the pull, the faint hum of recognition beneath his skin. Even from a photograph, her presence seemed to command his attention, as if she were somehow challenging him. He scoffed, an irritated growl escaping his throat.

"You're nothing but a thorn in my side," he muttered. Yet, he couldn't pull his gaze away.

Her file lay open beside him, filled with mundane details that should have been easy to dismiss. Age: 24. Background: orphan, raised in the foster system. Education: top of her class. Employment: unremarkable administrative positions. None of it explained why she had his senses on high alert.

Alexander narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing the lines of her face, the shape of her jaw, the stubborn set of her mouth. Her hair was a dark, wild cascade around her shoulders, and those eyes—green, like the forest after a storm—stared back at him with a fire that seemed almost alive. Even captured on film, she looked as if she were daring him to challenge her, to try and break her spirit.

I've broken stronger souls than you, he thought savagely, fighting the strange urge to trace her features. His fingers hovered, the air between him and the screen charged with the friction of desire and hatred. His wolf stirred restlessly within him, that primal part of him that he kept locked away, locked down. The beast recognized something in her—something dangerous, something that could unravel everything.

It was absurd. He had never met her in person, yet there it was: the faint, elusive scent that lingered in the back of his mind. He could almost smell it—her. He snarled, shaking his head to clear it. She was nothing but a human, an insignificant piece in the larger game. And yet...

He remembered the first time he'd glimpsed her through the surveillance feed—a brief, stolen moment that should have meant nothing. She'd been alone, filling out the application form with quick, decisive strokes, her expression sharp and focused. He hadn't even seen her face fully then, just the curve of her profile, the determined set of her shoulders. But something had snapped inside him, a cold, lethal certainty that this woman was more than she appeared.

His beast had recognized her.

Mate.

The word sent a chill down his spine. No. He didn't believe in fate, in the soul-deep ties that his kind whispered about in hushed voices. He had rejected that notion centuries ago, had destroyed the very bond that would have chained him to a mate. The curse had bound him once—to a woman who had nearly destroyed him. He had vowed never to let it happen again.

"Mine."

The low, guttural growl reverberated through the room, startling even him. His fingers clenched into a fist, nails biting into his palm hard enough to draw blood. He slammed his fist against the desk, the force rattling the glass decanter beside him.

This is insanity.

With a snarl, he stood abruptly, turning away from her image as if it physically burned him. He was Alexander Bloodstone—the Alpha, the ruler of a city that bent to his will, a man feared and revered in equal measure. He did not succumb to base desires. He did not obsess over humans.

But the truth was there, lurking in the dark corners of his mind: he was already ensnared. And it infuriated him.

The door to his office creaked open. His head snapped up, muscles coiling with the need for violence. He saw Lucian—a shadow among shadows—enter, his expression unreadable.

"I've done as you asked," Lucian murmured. "Elena Cross is a ghost. No family, no close friends, no one to protect her."

Good. That made it easier. Easier to destroy her, if it came to that. He nodded curtly, but Lucian didn't leave. He lingered, dark eyes studying Alexander with a wariness that sent a ripple of irritation through him.

"What is it?" he snapped.

"She doesn't seem like a spy, Alpha." Lucian's voice was cautious, each word chosen with care. "But there's something... odd."

"Odd?" Alexander echoed, his brows drawing together.

"Yes. I've looked into her history—tracked down everyone she's been in contact with, her movements, even her financials. Nothing stands out." Lucian hesitated, glancing at the screen where Elena's face still glared back at them. "But if I didn't know better, I'd say she's hiding something. The way she's kept herself so isolated... it's almost deliberate."

A spark of interest flickered through Alexander's chest. Hiding something. So, she wasn't just a distraction. She was a puzzle—a puzzle he intended to unravel.

"Keep watching her," he ordered, his voice low and dangerous. "Report every move. I want to know everything."

Lucian inclined his head and slipped out of the room as silently as he'd come. Alone once more, Alexander let out a slow breath, forcing his racing thoughts to still. It didn't matter what she was hiding. He would find out soon enough. And if she was his mate...

His chest tightened painfully. No. He would not allow it. He would not be bound by fate, not again. If she was a threat—if there was even the slightest chance that she was linked to his bloodline's curse—he would eliminate her before she had the chance to destroy him.

A soft knock interrupted his thoughts. This time, the door swung open without his permission, and Rhett strolled in as if he owned the place. His brother's easy, confident swagger set Alexander's teeth on edge.

"You know," Rhett drawled, "for a man who's supposed to be running a city, you look awfully preoccupied." He glanced at the screen, his eyebrows rising in mock surprise. "Who's the girl?"

Alexander's growl was low and dangerous. "Get out."

Rhett ignored him, leaning against the edge of the desk with infuriating nonchalance. He tilted his head, studying Elena's picture with a curiosity that made Alexander want to rip his throat out. "Interesting. She's human, isn't she?" He shot a sideways glance at Alexander. "But there's something about her... What is it, brother? Is she a threat?"

"No," Alexander bit out, but the denial tasted sour. He forced himself to calm, to adopt the icy composure that usually came so naturally to him. "She's no one."

Rhett laughed softly, dark amusement in his gaze. "You're a terrible liar." He pushed off the desk, stepping closer, his eyes gleaming with something sharp and calculating. "If she's no one, why are you watching her so closely? Why does she have you twisted up like this?"

"She doesn't," Alexander ground out. But even as he said it, his gaze flicked—unbidden—back to Elena's image. A flash of movement, a hint of defiance that made his blood heat. His brother followed his gaze, his smirk widening.

"Ah, I see," Rhett murmured. "You think she might be... something more."

Something more. The words reverberated in Alexander's skull, setting his nerves on fire. He couldn't afford to think that way. He wouldn't.

"I don't believe in that bullshit prophecy," he said, voice tight.

"Maybe you don't," Rhett mused. "But I can smell it on you. You feel it, don't you? That instinct, that... pull." He stepped back, giving Alexander a slow, mocking bow. "If she's a threat, kill her. But if she's not..." He let the sentence trail off, a cruel smile curling his lips. "What then, brother?"

And then he was gone, his laughter echoing down the hall, leaving Alexander alone with his thoughts—and the gnawing, suffocating truth that he refused to acknowledge.

Alexander turned back to the screen, fists clenched. She was dangerous, he was sure of it. He had to be sure. Because the alternative...

He leaned in, his breath misting the screen as he stared into her eyes. "I'll find out what you really are, Elena Cross," he murmured softly, every word dripping with menace. "And if you're here to destroy me—"

He trailed off, a savage smile twisting his lips.

"—then I'll make sure I destroy you first."

The silence in the room was thick, oppressive. But somewhere, deep in his chest, his beast purred.

And Alexander knew, with a terrible certainty, that he would never be free of her.