Chapter 12
Chapter 12 — Crimson Moon Rising
“Safia doesn’t love you.” Levis screamed with all the collected energy in his body, though he was completely paralyzed.
“She is mine,” Sion’s growl cut through the club’s deafening rhythm. It wasn’t a cry of fatigue or loss of energy, but a primal, unwavering declaration that sent a jolt of recognition through her own bloodline.
Safia’s eyes shot up at once. The effect of the drug was wearing off. He was her healer. Her protector. The weight of his words hung in the air, thick with a possessive heat Safia had never felt before.
“When a girl says no, it’s a no. You have to accept it and get out of her life.” Sion raised a warning finger, his human facade a thin veil over the wolf-like menace simmering in his gaze.
Levis wet his lips, his eyes tracing the line of Sion’s jaw like a challenge. “So, you’re the temporary husband of Safia. Her dad told me about your contract marriage with her.”
A low chuckle rumbled in Sion’s chest, more predator than man. He looked down at the pathetic figure of Levis. “When I can make the contracts, I can destroy them too. So don’t call me temporary. Safia stays mine as long as I want her to be. If I see you next time roaming around her like a mosquito, you won’t see the next day’s sunrise.” The truth behind his words carried the terrifying weight of alpha authority, undeniable and absolute.
He swept Safia into his arms with a swift, confident motion that stole the breath from her lungs. The ride to the hospital was tense; the scent of her fear and the lingering taint of the sedative burned in his nostrils.
“Sion, please save me.”
He placed her gently on the examination bench. “Nothing is going to happen to you. From the second you married me, you were not human but my mate—a werewolf. And werewolves heal faster than humans.”
How did he know her birth secrets? The man was far more mysterious than she had realized.
“She should heal faster than usual,” Sion commanded the pack doctor.
The doctor seemed to understand the strange, tense energy that surrounded them. He wrote a prescription. “Don’t worry, Mr. Canes. Your wife is safe. It’s just the effect of sedatives. She’ll be fine by tomorrow.”
Back at the penthouse, Sion placed her gently on the bed, his movements as careful as they were precise. Once she was settled, he walked to another room and made a call, a dark rage simmering beneath his calm exterior.
“Your piggy Levis Colon came in my way today,” Sion said, dispensing with pleasantries. “Next time you bluff about our wedding contract to anyone, I will forget you are Safia’s father. Your daughter will be my wife as long as I please, irrespective of your firm’s debt clearance. You can try whatever you want, go to the highest court—but the victory will be mine. This is just a glimpse of the devil I actually am.”
Soren, Safia’s father, felt his world shift irreversibly. The silence on the other end of the line was thick, pierced only by Sion’s rugged, dangerous breathing. He realized he had stepped into a game he could never win.
Hours later, Safia hissed, trying to sit up.
“Stay the way you are!” Sion’s voice was firm. “That bastard drugged you. You’ve been given an injection to get back to normalcy.”
Safia blinked, her head foggy. He was sitting beside her bed, a dark silhouette against the morning light. “Did you get me back here?” she asked, massaging her temples.
“Yes,” Sion sighed. “We’ll discuss the matter later when you’re fully okay. I’ll get you some breakfast now.”
As he left, Safia’s eyes followed his retreating form—tall, lean, with powerful arms and a sculpted chest. He was a man she had been married to for twenty days, yet she now truly saw the soft side of him for the first time. His casual clothes spoke of wealth; his military-cut hair and light stubble defined a rugged charisma she couldn’t ignore.
Sion returned with a plate of pancakes, strawberry syrup, and fruit juice. “Here. If you’re fine, we’ll start work tomorrow.” His words were placid, almost emotionless.
Safia finished her breakfast and rested until lunch, waking fully normal.
“Were you staying by my side all through the night?”
Sion nodded, not meeting her gaze—a fleeting sign of vulnerability. “I had no choice. The doctor told me to keep you under observation.”
“The doctor asked, or you wanted to look after me?” She reached for his arm, but he pulled it away.
“Are you my wife or a lawyer in the courtroom? You were burning with a temperature!” he shouted, the facade of a caring husband cracking.
Safia ignored his outburst. “How did I come back?”
“I brought you here by tracking your phone. When you’re too prideful to let me know where you go, you must also be self-dependent to protect yourself in case of any calamity.”
“So you were worried about my well-being and went searching for me,” she said, a quiet certainty settling over her. There was something in him, and it was undeniable.
“I’m sure of it. Maybe you’ll fall in love with me. Be careful,” she teased.
“That’s not the point.” Sion hissed. His anger was a thin shield for the affection he tried to hide. “That scoundrel was about to kiss you. The contract states you can’t date or have a boyfriend. You broke the rule yesterday, and I can impose charges on you for this!”
Safia had enough. “Don’t bring the contract up over and over again. I’ve read it a hundred times and know every line. I signed it, but I’m not liable for situations beyond my control. Levis tried to kiss me—it was not from my side.”
“Is it? So you don’t have any feelings for him? Then why did you go to meet him without informing me? Wasn’t it a date?” Sion advanced, predatory gleam in his eyes.
“Whatever I do outside work is not your business!” Safia’s voice was stern.
“It is my business. You’re my wife, damn it!” Sion’s yell was so loud, so fierce, that it sent a shiver through her body. His tone wasn’t just human anger—it was the commanding roar of an alpha.
Safia refused to cower. She grabbed the juice jug from the table and, with a defiant sneer, threw it at him.
A deep growl tore from Sion’s throat. The jug hit him with a wet splat, and as the orange liquid cascaded down his face, his eyes shifted. The warm brown of his irises bled into shocking gold, pupils elongating into thin vertical slits. The scent of him, once just clean and masculine, was now laced with the musk of a wild animal—a scent Safia recognized on a deep, ancestral level. Anger.
She knew, with chilling certainty, that the man before her was no longer just a man. He was a werewolf. And she, now married to him, was a werewolf too—her wolf dormant until now, waiting for its alpha. She had found him—and she had just thrown a juice jug at him.
Before she could fully process the revelation, Sion’s jaw shifted, his teeth elongating into fangs. The air around them crackled with raw energy, the kind that screamed of territorial dominance. He lunged at her—not to harm, but with blinding speed, intent on asserting his claim.
Safia’s body reacted instinctively. Her dormant wolf roared to life, muscles coiling to meet his advance—and then the world went black.
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Mask and moonrise