JASMINE'S POV
The next three days went by in a strange way. It wasn't completely silent, but it felt uneventful, as if everything was just holding its breath, waiting for something big to happen.
Work helped.
Being a CEO meant I could offload tasks that didn't require my direct attention, but it certainly didn't equate to a vacation.
Not when the numbers from the last twelve months looked like someone had been setting the company's financials on fire and roasting marshmallows over the ashes.
I had a sit-down with each departmental head, then twice with the finance team, who looked like they were one bad report away from crying. I combed through old reports and expense logs until my vision blurred and my head pounded.
The deeper I looked, the clearer the picture became.
Heart Enterprises hadn't stumbled into financial ruin.
It had been pushed.
Intentionally.
There were patterns—subtle, carefully disguised manipulations of funds, stock shifts, and bleeding accounts.
And I had a feeling I knew exactly who had started the spiral.
Uncle Vale.
Alexander.
Maybe both.
Every time I found a discrepancy, I made a note of it. Every time I saw an unusual withdrawal, I flagged it. I was gathering receipts… evidence—literally.
—
Aiden, meanwhile, was acting... off.
At first, I chalked it up to his usual brooding billionaire routine. He had a dozen companies to run, a large mansion to manage, and a wife who kept turning his suits and house into modern art. Stress was inevitable.
But then I noticed the details.
The way his breathing changed during dinner, like he was trying too hard to seem relaxed.
The way his answers became shorter and clipped, as if words were hard to hold on to.
His eyes lingered on me like he was trying to memorise my face before something terrible happened.
He barely touched his food.
His breathing sharpened when I leaned across the table for the salt.
He was still present but distant. Restless in a way that made my skin itch with unease.
And when I finally asked?
"Work stress," he said without blinking.
Liar.
I knew it.
He knew I knew it.
But we both left it hanging between us because we were too tired to walk through it.
Greg had gone back to whatever dark mountain he climbed out of two days ago, so it was just the two of us now.
We no longer shared a room. I had officially reclaimed the guest wing, and he hadn't stopped me.
That should've made things easier.
But it didn't.
That tension still lingered between us heavily. And every time I thought about that kiss, I wanted to punch a wall and kiss him again in the same breath.
God, I hated that he got to me.
—
That night after dinner, I couldn't sleep.
Not because I was tired. Not even because of caffeine. I just couldn't shut my brain off.
Something felt… off.
The air felt thick, and the silence was overwhelming.
Thinking a short walk to the window might help clear my mind, I threw off the covers and climbed out of bed.
I pulled back the curtains, and moonlight flooded the room, shining brighter than any full moon should.
Then, I noticed something fast, low to the ground.
I leaned in closer, straining to see through the darkness. Something felt off. Whatever caught my attention wasn't people, but they weren't quite animals either.
They were something else entirely.
I saw shapes—big and hunched, covered in patches of fur and muscle—darting between the hedges and trees.
There were at least four of them, maybe more. They moved too quickly and quietly, their eyes shimmering with an unsettling glow as they crept along the edge of the garden.
I blinked, trying to process what I was seeing.
What the hell am I looking at?
To my shock, someone emerged from the shadows… Aiden—barefoot and shirtless.
I wanted to shout at him to get out of there, to save himself, but I couldn't move or say anything; I was frozen in place, just watching.
He casually walked into the middle of the courtyard, as if he owned it, which, in a way, he did. He just stood there, waiting.
My brows knitted, and I watched as the creatures charged at him.
I gasped.
"Aid…"
Aiden didn't hesitate. He charged straight at them, meeting them head-on with a force that seemed impossible.
His actions were fierce—almost too powerful, too quick. He fought like someone who had done this many times before.
One of them jumped at him, and he caught it mid-air, slamming it down hard. Another came at him from behind. He spun around, ducked, and broke its arm without a second thought.
I gripped the windowsill tightly, stunned.
"What was I watching?" I asked myself again. It felt like I was in a movie of some sort.
And then… it happened.
His body twisted in a way that looked so wrong, so painful. I heard these awful cracking sounds, like bones snapping and shifting under his skin.
His back arched, his jaw stretched out, and suddenly, fur was just… growing, all over his arms and shoulders. Every pop and crack echoed in the silence.
It was as if his whole shape was being pulled apart and put back together, becoming something completely inhuman.
It must have hurt. Heck, even when I sprained my wrist in grade school, it hurt like hell and now…
My jaw dropped when I saw his eyes starting to glow this really intense gold.
His face… his whole body… it just changed, right in front of me, into this huge, terrifying wolf.
And then the wolf—Aiden—lifted his head, howling.
The deep growl shattered the night's silence, echoing through the garden and rattling the window.
I stumbled back from the glass as my heart raced, breath caught in my throat.
No.
Heck no! This wasn't happening.
This couldn't be real.
I tripped over the edge of the rug and fell to the floor, scrambling backwards until my spine hit the edge of the bed frame.
Everything I believed in—everything I thought wasn't real—had just been shattered in one night.
Werewolves weren't myths.
They were real.
And one of them had put a choker around my neck and called me his wife.
Aiden Frost, my husband, was not human.
The man I had kissed and fought with, the one I had touched, was something entirely different. My mind was spinning; this couldn't be happening.
It didn't make any sense. But I had seen it with my own eyes.
He had lied to me. He let me laugh at tales of creatures and curses while hiding the truth.
What else hasn't he told me?
And why—why, out of all the impossible emotions crashing through my chest—was fear not the strongest?
I looked up only to see a shadow swiftly pass by my window, and I stiffened for a moment. Before I could hold back the urge, I let out a scream.
It was loud, raw and terrifying.
Seconds later, the door burst open.
Aiden stormed in, barefoot, shirtless, his chest heaving, wearing nothing but dark trousers which sagged on his hips as if he didn't care how he looked anymore.
His skin was slick with sweat, his muscles tense as if he were ready for a fight.
My heart jumped painfully in my chest, and without meaning to, I scooted backwards across the floor until my back hit the wall.
He froze.
His wild, gold-flecked eyes scanned the room, searching for danger, ready to tear it apart.
When he didn't find any, his gaze locked onto me.
His expression shifted from sharp to something worse: concern.
"Jasmine," he called in a low voice. "Are you okay?"
I opened my mouth, but no words, no air came out.
Just nothing.
My whole body trembled like I was seconds away from breaking apart.
He took a cautious step toward me, hands raised in a slow, non-threatening way, like I was some wounded animal he didn't want to startle.
"Jasmine?" he called again, softer this time.
I shook my head violently. "No," I rasped out. "No—stay back."
Pain flickered across his face, but he stopped moving.
For a beat, the only sounds in the room were my ragged breathing. I swallowed hard, forcing the words out, though they tasted like glass. "W-what are you?"
I asked it like I already knew the answer.
Hoping—begging—that maybe I was wrong.
Maybe it was a nightmare.
Maybe I'd wake up.
Maybe reality would snap back into something I understood.
But Aiden's face hardened. His jaw tightened, his shoulders lowering—not with anger, but with resignation.
He didn't lie.
He didn't deny it.
Instead, he crossed the last few steps between us and crouched down until he was at my level, his hands braced on his thighs to keep some distance between us.
And then, in a voice so low and steady it chilled me to the bone, he said the words that shattered everything I thought I knew:
"Jasmine... I'm a werewolf. And you're not just my wife."
He exhaled, as if the weight of it had been pressing down on him for days.
"You're my fated mate."