Viviana's POV

Nolan said nothing. He merely shifted his body closer to mine by an inch.

With a heart swollen with fragile hope, I edged nearer to him. My fingers trembled, my breaths scattered like broken fragments of wind, but when I clutched the edge of his clothes, a deep sense of peace and fulfillment anchored me.

I felt grateful for the safety Nolan provided me, and I knew I ought to reciprocate—but he had told me never to return.

“Nolan, I’ll do as you say. I’ll work hard to earn money, and then I’ll leave this place with my mom.”

Leaning against the backrest of the chair, I closed my eyes and tried to hide the trace of sorrow pooling there.

It was a grief that cleaved through my very soul, but I would never let Nolan see it. Ever.

“I’ll leave, but I’ll miss you. When I’m a bit older, could I visit you at your workplace?”

I fought against the weight of exhaustion pushing down on me. My eyelids were leaden, unyielding, but I stubbornly forced my hand nearer to Nolan’s.

“I promise I won’t disrupt your work. I won’t be a bother. Please, Nolan, I’m begging you.”

The room was silent, and when Nolan didn’t respond, I guessed he might have fallen asleep. But that wasn’t the case.

A few minutes later, I finally heard his voice.

“Don’t come back, Viviana. Leave here and never return.”

Even as my body succumbed to the pull of fatigue, his rejection burned, searing through every fragile layer of my heart.

My breaths faltered, shallow and failing, as though my chest had been crushed by the weight of Nolan’s cold indifference. His words shattered my heart to pieces.

The worst would soon be over, but at that moment, all I wanted was to weep.

My sleep was restless and fraught with unease. Just before the clock struck five, my eyes found their way back to consciousness—and it was then that I realized I had been holding Nolan’s arm through the night, not merely the edge of his clothes as I’d initially thought.

I froze, staring at his sleeping face in quiet disbelief. My thoughts hammered against the walls of my mind, frantic and alive.

I was certain that Nolan’s back had been turned to me when he’d laid down to sleep the previous night. And yet now, we were facing each other, our noses so close they nearly touched.

In an instant, my thoughts cleared, and my heartbeat surged into a restless rhythm.

Nolan, the most sharp and vigilant wolf I had ever seen, now lay in a rare state of peace, his expression softened by unguarded slumber.

The lines of his bent arms were well-defined, with sharp, prominent wrist bones. He had beautiful hands, especially when he was sketching with a pencil; the veins on his arms stood out, making them look quite alluring.

I had to stop staring. But when I started to realize that once I left, I wouldn't be able to see Nolan again, I couldn’t help myself—I wanted to get a little closer to him.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Cold, clipped, and utterly unforgiving, his voice sliced through my reverie, and my breath caught in my chest.

I jerked my hand back, desperate to conceal the way my fingers had, moments before, dared to brush his skin.

Scrambling clumsily to my feet off the carpet, I stammered, “N-Nolan, w-when did you wake up?”

Face burning, I found myself avoiding his piercing blue gaze.

But instead of scolding me, Nolan simply rolled over and got out of bed with a casual movement.

“Why did you quit the job at the convenience store?”

When I turned sixteen, everyone at the Bruno Pack discovered my secret—that I had no wolf.

They mocked me, belittled me, and treated me like an outsider in a community where I should have belonged just because I was wolfless.

Nolan had been the only one to extend a hand. He had found me the job at the convenience store, offering a glimmer of light in what had felt like an endless, suffocating shadow.

But just the day before, John had stormed in, making a scene, loudly accusing my boss of illegally hiring an underage worker.

The reason was ridiculous and even foolish, but I still got fired on the spot.

I had treasured that job—Nolan’s gift to me—and I could not piece together how to explain it all to him. But thankfully, Nolan didn’t press for details. He had never needed much explanation anyway.

“My workplace needs someone to handle clerical work,” he said. “If you want the job, come with me when I head out later.”

I was relieved that there was no hint of anger in his tone.

“Well?” His gaze turned toward me again when I didn’t immediately respond. “You don’t want it?”

Ever punctual, Nolan glanced at his phone, checking the time. He didn’t wait for long and didn’t seem inclined to give me more time to think, either.

In truth, I was too stunned by the stroke of unforeseen luck to form a coherent reply.

When I finally stumbled from the room, I spotted John, who was sitting on the sofa in the living room.

His short black hair was slicked back neatly with gel. He was in a suit that was only worn for work, one that was always spotless, without a wrinkle in sight.

John’s blue eyes appeared deeper and darker than Nolan’s. And yet, when John smiled, someone unfamiliar with him might easily mistake him for a perfect gentleman.

Our eyes met, and my neck stiffened, my wrists felt bound by invisible steel; even breathing became a herculean effort.

Fear painted its claws along my trembling form, subtle but insidious.

Fear and uncertainty pushed me closer to Nolan, and that was when I noticed John’s cold, threatening gaze began to fade.

“Viviana,” John called abruptly after clearing his throat.