Mated For Revenge

CHAPTER FOUR: A Chance Encounter

KNOX’S POV:

The rain pours down in sheets, partly obscuring my windshield in a veil of mist. I watch as people hurry by, their faces hidden beneath umbrellas or turn away from the downpour. Inadvertently, my gaze flickers briefly to a figure on the sidewalk, a woman, her form hunched and sodden, her features twisted in anguish. She seems oblivious to the rain, lost in her own torment as she trudges forward with a haunting determination.

As I’m about to dismiss it and return my attention to the road ahead, the woman stops abruptly, her silhouette stark against the dim backdrop. Without warning, she steps out onto the road, her movements slow and deliberate, as if she’s resigned to her fate.

“The hell?”

Without hesitation, I fling open the door of my car and dash out into the rain, heedless of the water soaking through my suit.

I reach the woman just as she reaches the center of the road, her eyes vacant and unseeing, her body trembling. With a swift motion, I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her back, the two of us tumbling to the ground in a tangled heap.

As we lay, rain-soaked and breathless, my gaze sweeps over the woman's face, taking in the pallor of her skin and the fragile lines etched upon it. There’s a fragility to her, a sense of vulnerability that strikes a chord within me, though I couldn't quite place why.

"Are you out of your mind?" I ask. "Don't give the truck driver a hellish guilt and responsibility if you wanna die. It's not fair to him."

The woman blinks up at me with confusion and disbelief. She stares at me for a moment, then sobs, “I… d-don’t know… I d-din’t know what else to d-do.”

A strange sensation comes to me, stirring the depths of my usually stoic heart. It’s a feeling I rarely experience: Pity. It’s a sentiment I reserve for only a select few, those who hold a special place in my heart.

Gently, I brush a strand of wet hair from the woman's face, my fingers lingering against her clammy skin. Soon, her breathing grows shallow, her features slackening in unconsciousness. With a sense of urgency, I attempt to raise her, gently shaking her shoulders and calling out ‘hey!’. But there’s no response, no slightest reaction from her.

I reach into the pocket of the woman's coat, my fingers brushing against the smooth surface of her cell phone. I pull it out, my brow furrowing in frustration as I don’t have its password. I have no means of identifying her, no way of contacting someone who may know her.

"What a night,” I hiss.

With a resigned sigh, I lift the woman into my arms, her weight surprisingly light against my chest. I carry her to my car, laying her gently across the backseat before retreating to the driver's seat. For a moment, my gaze lingers on her peaceful face illuminated by the soft glow of the interior light.

“She’s more beautiful in her peaceful form.”

As I start the engine and pull away from the curb, I get the feeling that this encounter has stirred something within me, something I can’t quite define.

When I reach home, my car glides through the automatic gates, the heavy metal doors swinging open with a soft hum as I guide it into the driveway. I ease my car into the underground parking garage, the rumble of the engine echoing off the concrete walls as I bring it to a stop. Stepping out into the dimly lit space, I carefully lift the unconscious woman from the backseat, cradling her in my arms as I make my way towards the elevator.

As the elevator ascends towards the upper floor, my thoughts drift to the woman. Who is she? What had driven her to the brink of despair on that rainy street corner?

The elevator door opens onto the foyer, its soft ding signals my daughter that I’m home. She rushes towards me, her small form illuminated by the warm glow of the chandelier overhead. Clutching a teddy bear to her chest, she looks up at me so innocently with wide purple eyes.

"Who's she, Daddy?" Maxinne asks, tiptoeing to get a better look at the woman’s face.

I offer her a warm smile. "We'll find out once she wakes up, sweetheart.”

Maxinne nods, “Okay, daddy.”

Turning my attention to the two babysitters who are standing nearby, I motion for them to follow me. I get back inside the elevator, Maxinne and her babysitters follow suit.

On the second floor, I push open the door to one of the vacant guestrooms with my shoulder, the hinges creaking softly in protest as I step inside. With a gentle motion, I lay the woman on the bed.

"Help her change into some dry clothes," I say, without removing my gaze at the woman. "Don't let her catch a cold."

The babysitters nod, moving forward to carry out my instructions. As they bustle about, gathering fresh garments from the dresser drawers, I turn to Maxinne, who’s curiously staring at the woman.

"Sweetheart, would you mind staying with them for a moment?" I ask, smiling. “I’ll just take a quick shower, then we’ll play or we’ll watch a movie afterward.”

Maxinne smiles back as she replies, “Yes, daddy. Be quick.”

“I will.”

After kissing her on her forehead, I make my way down the hallway towards the master’s bedroom. I shed my wet clothes and take a shower with urgency, then slip into my pajamas, before making my way back to where Maxinne is.

I knock on the door first, then it’s opened by one of Maxinne’s babysitters. I step inside, my gaze sweeping over the woman's unconscious form once again. And as I study her form, a sense of intrigue gnaws at me—a curiosity as to why I had brought her home, instead of seeking help at a nearby clinic or hospital.

I turn to the babysitters and say, "Thank you for your help. You may go home now."

The babysitters nod, offering me polite smiles before slipping out of the room and down the hallway, their footsteps fading into the distance. Now, I turn my attention to my most cherished person, Maxinne. Before I could speak, however, her small voice echoes.

"Is she gonna be my new mommy?" she asks, without removing her gaze from the woman.

A pang of surprise shoots through me, my gaze meeting Maxinne's with confusion and concern. Kneeling down beside her, I reach out to brush a stray lock of her curly dark hair from her forehead.

"Why do you ask that, sweetheart?" I inquire, my voice gentle but guarded.

Maxinne shrugs, then says simply, her tone tinged with longing, "I want a mommy. And she seems nice and kind. Maybe she could be my mommy."

The words stab me like a dagger, a pang of sorrow twisting in my chest as I stare into my daughter's earnest eyes. I want nothing more than to give her the love and stability she deserves, but I know that it isn’t as simple as granting her wish with a stranger who’s not even our kind.

"She's not going to be your mommy, sweetheart," I say softly, my voice tinged with regret. "She's just someone who needs help, but she has to leave once she wakes up."

Maxinne nods, her expression disappointed. And as I rise to my feet, a weight settles upon my shoulders—a weight borne of the knowledge that sometimes, even the most innocent of questions could cut deeper than any blade.

I cradle Maxinne in my arms as we emerge from the guest room, the weight of her small form a comforting presence against my chest. But as we cross the threshold into the hallway, her transformation, which she can’t control yet, occurs.

Maxinne's body shimmers and shifts, her human features melting away into a small, furry one. In the span of a heartbeat, she turns into a pup—a fluffy ball of fur with bright, inquisitive eyes that sparkles with mischief.

I look down at the adorable pup in my arms, a soft chuckle escaping my lips. “You’re the cutest thing ever. I love you.”

Despite my delight, a wave of concern gnaws at me. The humans I’m allowing into our home, the babysitters and the unconscious woman, are a threat in discovering our secret.

Maybe it’s about time I find and marry a she-wolf, if there is any left, who can help me raise Maxinne. Someone who understands the intricacies of our kind, who can keep her safe from prying eyes.