Chapter 3: Chapter 3: The Legend of the Destined Mate

Jasper POV

I stood before the massive floor-to-ceiling windows of my office, looking down at the bustling city below. Sunlight streamed through the glass curtain wall, casting a cold shadow before me. The coffee in my hand had long gone cold, but I didn’t notice. My mind was replaying the photo my assistant had just handed me—Lila standing under a sycamore tree on campus, facing that man, Caleb Goodrich.

Her eyes were filled with sorrow.

For him.

An unidentifiable rage surged in my chest, nearly breaking free from the cage of my reason. I subconsciously clenched my jaw, my knuckles turning white from the force. The slumbering beast within me was awakened, growling, yearning to tear apart anyone who dared to covet her.

’This isn’t right.’

’Something is very wrong.’

As the Young Clan Leader of the Hale family, I’ve known since childhood that the blood of the Wolf King flows through my veins. This power is immense, but it’s accompanied by an untamable ferocity. The elders both revered and feared me, worried I would become an uncontrollable, bloodthirsty monster. Therefore, I learned to practice extreme self-control, using an iron will to keep that beast locked deep in my soul.

But their “reverence” was always laced with calculation, especially from the Great Elder’s son—Derek Hale. He was my cousin, and also my most dangerous enemy. He was obsessed with so-called “blood purity,” believing that only by completely purging the “impurities” of human blood could Werewolves return to their ancient glory.

His fanaticism had long since crossed the line. Many innocent members of our clan, even pregnant females, died by his hand. He called the fetuses “tainted seeds” that had to be “purified” before birth. I personally witnessed a woman, on his orders, being forcibly stripped of her beast core. She died on the spot. In that moment, I knew he wasn’t upholding tradition; he was creating terror.

The “Succession Council” five years ago appeared to be a clan meeting, but it was actually a meticulously planned coup by Derek. He conspired with three elders and used one of my uncontrolled transformations as a pretext to declare my “bloodline unstable and unfit for a king.” He even publicly displayed a doctored video to prove I had been corrupted by human emotion and had lost my wolf’s instincts. The footage showed me, at ten years old, crying while holding a dead stray cat. Yet he announced, “Look. He feels for a mere beast. In the future, he will surely betray the clan for a human woman.”

In the end, I won. Before he left, he stood in the moonlight, a sickening smile on his face, and stared at me, saying, “Jasper, you just wait. I’ll be back sooner or later to prove that I am the most suitable Wolf King. And you… your soft heart will drag you to hell.”

From then on, I understood just how much madness and fanaticism lay buried beneath this family’s so-called “traditions.” They wrapped violence in glory and cloaked their selfish desires in faith. And my victory was built on the foundation of the Werewolves’ powerful, bloody strength—without power, one doesn’t even have the right to resist.

Until I met Lila.

I had seen her long before. She would sit quietly in a corner, like a meticulously framed oil painting. At the time, I only thought she was special, possessing a natural tranquility that could soothe a restless heart. Later, through some discreet channels, I learned of her past—her parents were dead, she was adopted by the Goodrich family, and she had been secretly in love with her adoptive brother, Caleb, for fifteen years. She was like a white flower growing in a thicket of thorns; though covered in wounds, she still fought to bloom.

When I learned from Zoe that Caleb had abandoned her for the sake of his family’s interests and allowed his fiancée to humiliate her, the faint fondness I had for her instantly transformed into an intense possessiveness. I needed her. Not just to deal with my family’s pressure to marry, but more importantly, to pull her out of that hypocritical mire. I didn’t want to see her cry for someone so unworthy ever again.

But last night, everything spun out of control.

That glass of wine… it might have been a trigger, but it was far from the main cause. What truly made me lose control was the faint, almost imperceptible scent she exuded when she came close—a scent that drove me wild. It was her unique scent, a mix of faint lily fragrance and something else I couldn’t describe, like a summons from the depths of my soul—like the sound of moonlight landing on snow, silent yet deafening.

The moment my lips touched her skin, the beast that had been imprisoned for so many years completely broke free from its shackles. It greedily drank in her scent, desperate to mark her completely as its own. I had never lost control like that, nor had I ever felt so satisfied. Her body fit mine so perfectly, as if we were originally one being, forcibly torn apart by fate for years, only to finally be reunited.

What shocked me even more was that when I woke up in the morning and looked at her flushed cheeks as she slept, the violence that had perpetually coiled inside me had strangely calmed. It was like the surface of the sea after a raging storm, with only gentle ripples remaining. That kind of tranquility was a state I had pursued my entire life but had never been able to reach.

This completely went against common Werewolf knowledge. Normally, a first mating only triggers stronger possessiveness and aggression, not peace.

Unless… she really is my Destined Mate.

The thought sent a jolt through me. The legends of the Destined Mate among the Werewolf clan have always been regarded as myth. It is said that only those with the purest royal bloodline can sense the one being who can resonate with their soul and pacify all their violent impulses. To find her is to find true peace and power.

Ironically, Derek used to be the one most enthusiastic about spreading this legend. I had always thought it was just a beautiful lie, used to soothe the clan members who were tormented by their own bloodline. But now, the truth was right in front of me. Her presence had truly calmed the storm within me.

Thinking of this, I picked up the internal line and dialed the driver’s number, my voice low. “Go to the university and bring the Madam home. If you see anyone from the Goodrich family, notify me immediately.”

It wasn’t long before footage from the car’s camera was transmitted back. Lila and Zoe were coming out of a university building when Caleb stepped in front of them. I saw him try to grab Lila’s wrist, saw the flash of pain in her eyes, and then watched as she resolutely turned and walked away. In that moment, I almost crushed the pen in my hand.

’She didn’t look back. Good.’

As the car drove away from campus, I breathed a sigh of relief, but I still couldn’t completely relax. Caleb wouldn’t give up easily, and his father, Arthur, was even more cunning and calculating. And Derek… he was surely in some corner, smirking and waiting for me to show a weakness.

In the afternoon, I had someone deliver the “Tear of the Moon God” to Zoe. It’s a family heirloom, a token passed down through generations. The sapphire is said to have been condensed from moonlight by the first Wolf King. It had lain dormant in a safe for many years, never reacting to anyone. But last night, when I placed it in the room where Lila had slept, it actually became slightly warm—it wasn’t an illusion, but a real warmth, like a beating heart.

’I warned myself, Jasper, don’t act rashly. Have you forgotten the price of losing someone you loved before…?’

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