The Howlcrest Werewolves Legacy
Chapter 20: Surprise Appointment

Chapter 20: Surprise Appointment

Damn him.

I buried my face in the collar for a split second before cursing myself.

It wasn’t because I wanted to—I needed it.

It was cold, that’s all.

Just practical.

Just practical.

I shoved my arms through the sleeves, and the jacket hung off me, too big but warm—too warm.

And then, before I could second-guess myself, I climbed back onto the sink, swung a leg through the window, and jumped.

The world tilted for half a second—air rushing past me—before I landed hard, knees buckling but holding.

Yes.

I survived.

But then...

Shit.

What was that chill crawling up my spine?

I froze, slowly lifting my head.

And there he was.

Tristan.

Standing a few feet away—still, silent, watching me like a predator who had already decided I was his.

The morning light made him even more dangerous—pale skin against the dark clothes, red eyes gleaming like embers in the frost. His jaw was hard, a slight muscle ticking as he tilted his head, the corner of his mouth curving—not quite a smile, but something colder.

Like he knew.

Like he’d been waiting for me.

Like this was all a game, and I had just moved a piece exactly where he wanted.

My heart slammed into my ribs.

Fuck.

He didn’t say anything.

Didn’t move.

Just stood there, his gaze dragging over me—the messy bun, the stolen jacket, the defiance still flickering behind my fear.

His jacket.

His scent, wrapped around me like an invisible leash.

And gods, the way he looked at me—like I was his already—made me feel bare, even with all these clothes on.

I swallowed hard, every instinct screaming at me to run, but my feet wouldn’t move.

The wolf had found me.

And I was trapped.

"Let’s go," he said, his voice smooth—too smooth.

I blinked at him. "What? Where?"

He didn’t answer right away—just let his ruby eyes sweep over me again, lingering on the leather jacket hanging off my frame. His jacket. His scent still clinging to it, and to me.

"I thought you’d want to be dressed nicely to go to the vet," he said instead, lips twitching ever so slightly, "but it appears you like my clothes on you."

What?

I stared at him, my mind scrambling to catch up. "What?" I repeated, because clearly, I was malfunctioning.

He sighed, the sound equal parts amused and exasperated. "Come on," he said again, as though this was the most obvious thing in the world. "We don’t want to be late for the appointment."

Appointment? What appointment?

I was still rooted to the spot. My escape plan—window jump and all—seemed laughable now, with him standing there, looking like he owned both the morning and me.

"We’re going to the vet," he said, as if I was the one being difficult.

The vet.

My stomach flipped. "The vet? Why?"

Tristan tilted his head, his crimson gaze patient but firm. "For Boyd," he said, as though reminding me of something I should have already known. "Remember?"

Boyd.

My sick dog.

The reason I was stupid enough to try and steal money last night.

From the Alpha’s nonetheless,

I blinked again. "You... you booked an appointment?"

"Yes."

I swallowed. The air around us felt too thick for morning. "For my dog?"

"Yes, Olivia," he repeated, slower this time, like I was a child.

For a long second, all I could do was stare at him—this brooding alpha prince, the man who’d declared I was his mate last night without giving me a choice—and now... now he was taking me to the vet?

"Oh my God, really?" I squealed—an embarrassingly loud, girlish sound—and before I could stop myself, I was practically bouncing on the balls of my feet.

A flicker of something—a smile—ghosted across his lips. Gone just as quickly as it appeared, but it was there.

Without another word, he turned and led me to his car. And of course, it wasn’t just any car—it was sleek, dark, and expensive, a predator’s vehicle, perfectly suited to him.

I slid into the passenger seat, still half in shock, while Tristan started the engine.

The leather jacket still smelled like him.

The car smelled like him.

Damn him.

The morning was quiet as we drove through the town—so early that the streets were practically deserted.

The sky was a soft, pale blue, with wisps of clouds, and the crisp air bit at the edges of my skin despite the warmth of his jacket.

For a moment, it felt almost... normal.

Like we were just two people going for a drive.

But then I glanced at him—his perfect jaw, his broad shoulders, those blood-red eyes fixed on the road ahead—and remembered exactly who I was sitting beside.

This wasn’t a drive.

This was a deal with the devil in broad daylight.

And yet, my heart kept beating too fast—not from fear this time, but from something far more dangerous.

The car rolled to a smooth stop in front of the small vet clinic, and for a brief, blissful second, I thought this was just a normal day—a weird one, sure—but still normal.

Until I saw them.

My parents.

Standing stiffly by the entrance, my large mutt, Boyd, clutched in my father’s arms.

And the look on their faces—oh God. That look.

Their signature scowl—the one they reserved for when I’d done something bad—was firmly in place. My mother’s lips were drawn in a tight line, her jaw tense enough to shatter. My father’s glare was a calculated storm, cold and unforgiving.

My stomach plummeted.

I felt Tristan’s presence beside me, calm and unreadable, like a predator surveying the scene. His hand casually rested on the steering wheel, his ruby eyes flicking from my parents to me, then back again.

"You didn’t tell me you invited an audience," I muttered, voice low, but my panic was anything but subtle.

He didn’t answer—just unbuckled his seatbelt with a quiet click, his silence louder than any words.

I didn’t move. "What did you do?"