Inside the coffee shop, Noah Smith leaned casually against the counter, his dark hair falling slightly into his eyes as he chatted with a customer. He was calm, almost too calm, given the tension that had been building in the supernatural community lately. Outside, however, things were far from peaceful.

Three Alpha werewolves prowled the sidewalk, their predatory gazes fixed on the café. Their intentions were clear—they were here to challenge Noah, to test the mysterious new force in town. Clara’s jaw tightened as she observed them, her fingers curling into fists.

“He doesn’t need this,” she muttered under her breath, her voice low and edged with frustration.

Without thinking twice, she released a wave of her own Alpha energy, potent and commanding. The werewolves froze mid-step, their heads snapping toward the alleyway. Clara’s presence was undeniable, and it wasn’t just power—it was a warning.

One of the wolves, a tall, broad-shouldered man with a scar running down his cheek, growled, “Who’s there?”

Clara stepped forward, just enough for the dim streetlight to catch her face. Her eyes glowed faintly, and her voice was calm but laced with steel. “Leave. Now.”

The scarred wolf hesitated, his gaze flickering between her and the café. “This isn’t your fight, Alpha.”

“It is now,” Clara replied, her tone final.

The werewolves exchanged uneasy glances before retreating, their tails metaphorically between their legs. Clara watched them go, her shoulders relaxing slightly. She turned her attention back to the café, where Noah was now wiping down the counter, oblivious to the danger that had just passed.

Her eyes lingered on him for a moment longer, her expression softening. “Who are you, Noah Smith?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

As she turned to leave the alley, her footsteps silent against the pavement, her mind raced. There was something about him—something that stirred emotions she hadn’t felt in years. Curiosity? Protectiveness? Whatever it was, it was dangerous.

Back in the café, Noah paused, his hand hovering over the coffee machine. He glanced toward the window, a faint frown creasing his brow. The street outside was quiet now, too quiet.

“Strange,” he murmured, his voice tinged with unease.

He shook his head, dismissing the thought, but the lingering sense of being watched didn’t fade.

Clara disappeared into the night, her heart pounding in a way that had nothing to do with the confrontation. She didn’t know what she was getting herself into, but one thing was clear—Noah Smith wasn’t just another face in the crowd. And she wasn’t ready to let him go.

Noah Smith leaned against the doorframe, his gaze lingering on the empty hallway where Clara Wilson had just disappeared. The air seemed charged with an inexplicable energy, and his palm tingled faintly, as if responding to her presence. He glanced down, his brow furrowing as the faint outline of the blood moon tattoo shimmered beneath his skin.

“What the hell was that?” he murmured, flexing his fingers. The warmth in his palm was undeniable, a strange echo of the icy chill Clara had carried with her. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d seen her before—not just her face, but that look in her eyes, like she was searching for something or someone.

“You’re overthinking it,” he muttered to himself, pushing away from the door and pacing the room. But the memory of her gaze lingered, hauntingly familiar.

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His phone buzzed on the table, snapping him out of his thoughts. It was his best friend, Marcus.

“Hey, man,” Marcus’s voice crackled through the speaker. “You sound off. What’s up?”

Noah hesitated, his fingers brushing over the faint warmth in his palm. “Nothing… just had a weird visit. Clara Wilson showed up out of nowhere.”

“Clara Wilson? The ice queen from the council? What did she want?”

“I don’t know,” Noah admitted, his voice low. “But there’s something about her… I can’t place it.”

Marcus chuckled. “Sounds like someone’s got a crush.”

“It’s not that,” Noah snapped, though the heat in his palm seemed to flare in response. “It’s like… I’ve seen her before, but I can’t remember where.”

“Maybe it’s the blood moon thing messing with you,” Marcus suggested. “You know how it gets around the full moon.”

Noah frowned, glancing at the faint tattoo on his wrist. “Maybe. But this feels different.”

As the call ended, Noah’s thoughts drifted back to Clara. Her presence had stirred something deep within him, something he couldn’t ignore. He clenched his fist, the warmth in his palm spreading.

“Things just got a lot more complicated,” he whispered to the empty room.

The faint hum of the blood moon’s energy pulsed in his veins, a silent promise of what was to come.

Clara Wilson sat by the window in her office, the city’s night skyline stretching endlessly before her. The soft glow of the streetlights below did little to calm the storm brewing within her. Her fingers absentmindedly traced the edge of her desk as her thoughts drifted back to Noah Smith.

That man—his calm, unwavering gaze, the way it seemed to pierce through her carefully constructed defenses. She exhaled sharply, her breath fogging the glass for a moment before dissipating.

“Why does he feel so… familiar?” she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible in the quiet room. The question hung in the air, unanswered. Her ice-core energy, usually so controlled, felt restless, as if it was responding to something she couldn’t quite grasp. She clenched her fists, trying to ground herself, but the memory of his eyes lingered, unyielding.

A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. Clara straightened immediately, her professional mask slipping back into place. “Come in,” she called, her voice steady and composed.

Her secretary, Emily, stepped inside, holding a file. “Ms. Wilson, the report you requested,” she said, placing it on the desk.

“Thank you, Emily,” Clara replied, her tone crisp. She reached for the file, but her hand hesitated for a fraction of a second, betraying the turmoil beneath her calm exterior.

Emily paused, her gaze narrowing slightly. “Is everything alright, Ms. Wilson? You seem… distracted.”

Clara forced a smile, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’m fine. Just a lot on my mind.”

Emily nodded, though her expression suggested she wasn’t entirely convinced. “Well, if you need anything, let me know.”

“I will. Thank you,” Clara said, her voice softening just enough to reassure her secretary.

As Emily left, Clara opened the file, her eyes scanning the words without truly absorbing them. Her mind kept drifting back to Noah, to the way his presence had stirred something deep within her. She leaned back in her chair, her fingers tapping lightly on the desk.

“What is it about you?” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. The question echoed in the silence of her office, unanswered yet persistent. She couldn’t shake the feeling that Noah Smith was more than he appeared, that he held the key to something she couldn’t yet understand.

With a sigh, she turned her attention back to the file, determined to focus. But even as she worked, the image of Noah’s calm, steady gaze remained etched in her mind, a quiet reminder of the questions she couldn’t ignore.