Hannah's Pov
I was sprinting through the dense forest, my heart pounding in my chest. I didn't know what I was running from, but I could feel it—a monstrous presence lurking just behind me, whispering in my mind like a psychic. It was a wolf, massive and terrifying, at least two and a half times the size of any wolf I'd ever seen.
As I glanced back, the distance between us felt safe, but I knew better. This creature had a way of making you feel at ease before it struck. I couldn't let my guard down. I had to keep running, to stay one step ahead.
"Think, Hannah," I muttered to myself, calculating my options. If this beast existed, it had tricks up its sleeve—hidden moves that could turn the tables in an instant. Even if I managed to outsmart it, I'd be left with wounds that could scar me for life. As a professor, my reputation was everything. I couldn't afford to be marked by a monster.
I had to outthink it. Strength alone wouldn't save me; I needed strategy, agility, and the instincts of a seasoned warrior. I had to find a place to hide, a cave perhaps, where I could regroup and plan my next move.
But why did I always end up in this part of the forest? I often woke in a cave, illuminated by a mysterious red glow. The walls were adorned with intricate murals of celestial bodies and mythical creatures, a soft hum of magic vibrating in the air. It felt like a dream, a realm where reality and fantasy intertwined.
I couldn't shake the feeling that I was meant to be here, that there was something about me that allowed me to walk this path unharmed. Maybe I was a witch, a late bloomer discovering powers I didn't know I had. The old stories we dismissed as myths—were they true? Were we living in a world of magic and monsters?
I had to run. I could see the cave entrance fading behind me, but the wolf was still on my trail, its instincts uncanny. It felt like a twisted game of hide and seek, and I was the prey. I bolted again, my legs screaming for mercy, but I couldn't stop. I had to reach the outskirts of the forest, to the safety of the road.
Suddenly, I jolted awake in my bed, drenched in sweat, heart racing as if I had just escaped a nightmare. I stretched, trying to shake off the remnants of fear, and reached for Max.
Max. My mysterious protector. He was kind, fiercely loyal, and had saved me more times than I could count. I felt safe with him, a connection that ran deep, as if we were meant to be. He was strong, capable of taking down gangsters in seconds, and I admired him for it.
But he was more than just my protector; he was my other half, the missing piece of my soul. Like a flower to a bee, we were drawn to each other, inseparable and intertwined. I could feel his presence even when he was not near, a magnetic pull that made my heart race and my spirit soar.
I knew he was in the garden, even before I stepped outside. As I walked into the morning sun, I found him lost in thought, his handsome features illuminated like a Greek god. He didn't notice me at first, which was unusual. He usually sensed my presence, but today he seemed preoccupied.
"Hey," I whispered, wrapping my arms around him. He turned, his coarse voice breaking the silence. "How was your sleep?"
"Fine," I replied, but I could see the worry etched on his face. "What's bothering you?"
"Nothing," he said, but I didn't believe him. I knew him too well. There was something he wasn't telling me, something that could threaten our relationship.
I remembered the time he had blocked a knife meant for me, taking a wound to protect me. He was self-taught, he said, but I sensed there was more to his story. He always promised I would know everything when the time was right, but that only fueled my curiosity.
"Why do you protect me?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. "What are you hiding?"
He looked away, a flicker of something in his eyes—fear, perhaps? I wanted to dig deeper, to uncover the truth, but I also felt a pull to trust him. I knew he didn't want to tell me everything yet, and I didn't know why. But I wholeheartedly believed that Max would risk his life to protect me over and over again. If he wasn't going to tell me, I would find a way to get my answers. As long as I was with him, I would uncover the meaning of the mystic feeling we shared, the reason everything we did together felt so right—especially when it came to our intimacy. It was as if we were two halves of a puzzle,