Chapter 299 - 300 Why did I feel this?

Chapter 299: Chapter 300 Why did I feel this?

Rick’s POV

I watched her from the shadows of the driveway.

Vanessa Crane.

I’d known Vanessa Crane for years. She was the daughter of Alpha Richard Crane of Riverside Pack—privileged, spoiled, and always orbiting around men who outranked her.

She’d never been on my radar. Not once. Not ever.

But tonight was different.

My wolf was surging. Pushing. *Demanding* that I go to her.

And I didn’t understand why.

"Miss Crane." Finally,I stepped out of the shadows, keeping my voice level. Neutral. Professional. "I think you have your answer now."

She spun around, and for a moment, I saw something raw and broken flash across her face before she shuttered it behind a mask of aristocratic disdain.

Her eyes landed on the shopping bags in my arms—medical supplies, snacks, a box of those expensive Belgian chocolates from the patisserie on Fifth.

"All of that?" She laughed, but there was no humor in it. "You know he doesn’t eat late-night snacks. And he hates sweets."

She was grasping. I could hear it in her voice, see it in the way her eyes kept darting back to the dark windows above us.

"Alpha King doesn’t eat them, no." I shifted the bags in my arms. "But Luna Queen does. She hurt her hand tonight, and he was concerned she wouldn’t have fresh bandages. He sent me the list himself. And the chocolates—"

I paused, letting the weight of my words settle. "She likes them. So now he likes them."

I watched the color drain from her face.

"You’re lying," she said, but her voice cracked on the last syllable. "They were fighting. I heard them. They were—"

"Fighting doesn’t mean anything, Miss Crane." I kept my tone gentle, because despite everything, I wasn’t cruel. "He messaged me the moment she arrived. That’s just what happens when someone has a place in your heart—you think about them even when you’re not together. You can’t logic your way out of that. You can’t reason with it."

Her silence was deafening.

I watched her process my words, saw the exact moment they hit home. The way her shoulders dropped, the way her chin trembled before she caught herself and forced her spine straight again. She was a fighter, I’d give her that. But even fighters broke when they knew they’d lost.

I gave her a small nod and turned to head inside, but I’d barely made it three steps before I heard her voice behind me.

"Wait."

I stopped.

"What is it, Miss Crane?"

But I didn’t turn around. I’d said what needed to be said. The rest was none of my business.

"Can you—" She hesitated, and when she spoke again, her voice was smaller. Quieter. "Can you at least tell me if he’s happy?"

I finally turned to look at her.

I’m not a sentimental man. I’ve worked for Damian Blackwood for over a decade. I’ve seen him tear through rivals, dismantle packs, and reduce full-grown wolves to whimpering messes with nothing but a cold stare.

I’ve cleaned up his messes, delivered his threats, and stood silent while he made grown men cry.

But I’ve also watched him pace the floor of his study at 3 AM, unable to sleep, staring at a photograph of a woman he claimed he didn’t care about.

I’ve seen the loneliness.

I’ve seen the way he’d go weeks without smiling, months without laughing, years without letting anyone close enough to matter.

So when I answered her, I wasn’t lying. I was telling her the truth.

"Miss Crane," I said quietly, "I’ve worked for Alpha King for eleven years. In all that time, I’ve never once seen him smile the way he smiled tonight. I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at her."

I paused.

"I’ve never seen him care about anyone enough to send them chocolates."

Her face crumpled. Just for a second. Then her gaze flickered past me, toward the dark window upstairs.

For a moment, she looked so tired, so completely defeated, that something twisted in my chest. I felt it physically—a sharp, unexpected ache that made no sense.

*Why do I feel this?*

My wolf didn’t wait for an answer. It shoved up under my ribs, restless and loud, pushing me toward her.

*Go. She’s hurting. Fix it.*

I pushed away the wolf’s urge to go to her, to comfort her, and climbed the stairs to deliver what Damian had asked for.

---

I set the bags down outside the door and texted the Alpha to let him know. I didn’t knock. I knew better than that.

But when I got back to the driveway, Miss Crane’s car was still there.

And she was still standing beside it.

She looked even worse than before—paler, more fragile, like someone had reached inside her and pulled out the part of her that was holding her together.

I should have kept walking. I should have gotten in my car and driven back to the my hotel and called it a night.

But I didn’t.

Instead, I found myself walking toward her, my feet carrying me before my brain could catch up and stop me.

"Miss Crane," I said, "it’s late. You shouldn’t be out here alone."

She didn’t answer.

I watched her wrap her arms around herself, her knuckles white against her forearms. The moonlight was unforgiving—it highlighted the dark circles under her eyes, the pinched quality around her mouth, the fine tremble in her hands.

"Miss Crane?"

"I have a stomach ache," she said finally. Her voice was barely a whisper. "Can you take me back to my hotel?"

I looked at her for a long moment.

"Miss Crane," I said slowly, "I should take you to a hospital—"

"No." Her voice was sharp, then softened. "No. It’s an old problem. I just need to lie down and take my medication. Please."

I watched her for another beat, weighing my options.

The smart thing to do would be to call her a rideshare and be done with it. She wasn’t my responsibility. She wasn’t anyone’s responsibility as far as I was concerned.

But my wolf had been restless, scratching at the inside of my skull like a trapped animal.

*Say yes to her,* he urged. *She needs us.*

"She doesn’t need us," I said under my breath. "She needs doctor."

*No. She needs us.*