I picked up the new set of keys from the desk, the heavy metal cold against my palm.
Annie was going to lose her mind when she saw the room. I knew it with absolute certainty—she was going to scream with delight the second she stepped through that heavy steel door.
I reached the volunteer meet-up point in record time, practically sprinting the entire way to keep the autumn chill at bay. The crew was already setting up the folding tables in our usual spot, while Rolon hauled heavy cardboard boxes of supplies out from the back of the van. I jogged over to him and immediately offered a hand, reaching for one of the crates.
He let out a warm laugh at my enthusiasm, shaking his head as he handed me a cap stamped with our volunteer logo, along with a lightweight fleece hoodie.
"Here, Jane. Put this on before you freeze," he said with a friendly wink, easily pulling a heavy crate from the vehicle himself.
The days were turning noticeably colder as autumn tightened its grip on the city, and I was genuinely surprised to get a brand-new hoodie. Rolon must have bought a fresh batch for the whole team. It was a simple gesture, but it felt incredibly sweet to be cared for, to feel like an accepted part of a real team.
Tucking myself into the oversized sweater—which smelled faintly of fresh warehouse fabric—I felt an immediate wave of warmth settle over me. My body was still shivering slightly, but my chest felt lighter than it had in days.
Watching the first few people trickle in and line up for food, a soft smile touched my lips. Some of them were looking noticeably healthier than they had a month ago.
It warmed my heart to see how these people—left without support, abandoned by families, or struck by sudden hardship—refused to break. They hadn’t given up. They were fighting every day to reclaim a normal, humble life.
Every single person in line had a story. One had lost their job; another had fled an abusive partner; someone else had been turned out by their own adult children. As I scanned their faces, a deep sense of fulfillment washed over me, knowing that my presence here made even a small difference.
I got so caught up in organizing the dry-ration containers that I didn’t notice Adam stepping up to my table. Today, I was assigned to hand out the non-perishable packages, while Rolon managed the hot meals at the adjacent station.
"Hey, Jane. How are you holding up?"
I looked up. Adam looked remarkably better today. He was wearing a new jacket—thick, warm, and looking like it was either straight off a store rack or the cleanest find a thrift shop had ever seen. A healthy flush touched his cheeks, and his eyes held a bright, lively spark.
"I’m doing well! How about you?" I smiled, passing him a standard ration kit.
He nodded, taking the package, but he didn’t walk away.
"I actually have something for you," he murmured, lowering his voice. Leaning across the table, he handed me a second bag he had been holding.
Confused, I took the worn, rumpled craft paper bag, which was frayed around the edges as if it had been carried a long way. I peeked inside.
My heart stopped.
Sitting at the bottom was my bag. The exact bag Magnus had callously thrown away.
"My goodness... Adam, where on earth did you find this?!" I gasped. Scrambling around the table, I threw my arms around him in an impulsive hug.
"Some of our guys brought it in," he replied with a bashful grin, clearly pleased by my reaction. "They said they spotted it in a trash bin over in a high-end district. When they checked inside and saw your student ID, they immediately brought it straight to me because they knew we were friends."
He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looked directly into mine.
"Jane... how did your bag end up all the way over there? In a neighborhood like that?"
I dropped my gaze, feeling a fierce blush scorch my face. What was I even supposed to tell him? That my fated mate threw my belongings into the trash simply because he didn’t like them?
"I’ll tell you later, okay? It’s a long story."
Adam studied my face for a long moment, his gaze heavy and laced with a quiet, knowing concern. Fortunately, he didn’t push.
"Alright," he agreed, nodding softly. "Just remember, if you ever need help..."
He took a step to the side, and my eyes landed on the figure who had been standing silently behind him the entire time.
He was a young man—likely close to my age—but his physical presence was staggering. Built like a wall, broad-shouldered and imposing, he wore a black hoodie with the hood pulled low over his face. All I could clearly make out was a strong, sculpted jawline with a sharp cleft and a refined, almost aristocratic nose. Dark, wavy curls escaped the rim of the fabric, falling around a pair of striking, vibrant green eyes.
He carried alpha blood.
I felt it instantly—a raw, visceral instinct firing off alarms deep within me. He radiated an aura of pure power, as massive as Magnus’s, but fundamentally different in nature. Where Magnus was a volatile, suffocating storm, this stranger was a quiet, controlled ember. Yet he was no less dangerous.
"Jane, meet Askold," Adam introduced, tapping the young man’s shoulder. "Unfortunately, our numbers just grew by one. He lost his place to stay, so I’ll be bringing him along with me on Sundays. Could you set him up with a ration pack?"
"O-of course," I stammered, nodding quickly. A strange, prickly tension settled over me under the heavy scrutiny of those emerald eyes.
It was hard to process how a young, powerful Alpha wolf could end up abandoned by the system and forced onto the streets. The alpha gene carriers were usually snapped up by top corporations, offered lucrative jobs, and handed housing on a silver platter. What could have possibly happened to tear his life apart?
Trying to keep my hands from shaking, I packed a fresh kit and held it out to him. "Here you go."
As he reached out to take the package, his fingers brushed against mine. His skin was rough, calloused, and blazing hot, like fine sandpaper. The brief contact shot a sharp pulse of static straight up my arm, making me flinch and yank my hand back.
Askold lifted his head higher, his hood shifting back just enough for our eyes to lock. A strange, intense spark of curiosity flickered deep within his green gaze. I tried to tell myself I was just imagining things, but the weight of his attention felt electric.
"Thanks," he rasped out. His voice was low, rough, and gravelly, as though he hadn’t used his vocal cords in weeks.
Adam caught the intense way Askold was staring at me and immediately grabbed his friend by the elbow.
"Well, we’ll get out of your hair," Adam chimed in smoothly, throwing Askold a sharp, warning glance. Responding to the subtle reprimand, the male immediately broke eye contact and took a step back.
I stood there watching them walk away, clutching the paper bag with my reclaimed purse tightly to my chest. Something about that new alpha male felt deeply unsettling.
Pronunciation tip: Askold --> Ah’skold
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