The Messenger( Iva) novel Chapter 70

Work Drama-T

Morning did not arrive gently.

It snapped into existence.

Iva’s eyes flew open as if something inside her had shaken her awake. For a moment she did not know where she was. The ceiling above her was unfamiliar, too high, too white, too smooth. No cracks. No stains. No peeling paint.

Then memory crashed in.

Penthouse.

Lycan prince.

Mate.

Messenger.

Two weeks.

She sat upright so abruptly the room spun.

Her heart pounded once – hard – before she reached for the bedside clock.

6:12 AM.

Her stomach dropped.

“I’m late.”

She pushed the blanket away and stood, wincing at the stiffness in her muscles. The softness of the bed had not meant rest. She had slept in fragments, in tension, in awareness.

She looked down at herself.

Same clothes. Same worn jeans. Same shirt from yesterday.

A soft groan escaped her.

“Perfect,” she whispered dryly. “Absolutely perfect.”

She rushed to the door of the guest room, paused with her hand hovering over the handle, then forced herself to breathe.

Different address.

Unknown commute.

New risks.

New rules.

<Work Drama

+25 Points

But work meant survival. Survival meant independence. Independence meant she owed nothing to anyone

not even to a lycan prince.

She opened the door.

The penthouse living area was bathed in pale morning light, glass walls glowing with the early sun. The place was quiet… too quiet.

She stepped out carefully, moving toward the entrance as if afraid the floor might object to her presence.

“Avalon… we need to leave.”

Her wolf hummed softly beneath her awareness.

“He knows you are awake.”

Iva froze mid-step.

“What?”

Footsteps.

Calm. Measured. Heavy with contained power.

Her body reacted before her mind could.

She turned.

And forgot to breathe.

Caleb stood near the far side of the living room, sleeves rolled to his forearms, dark hair slightly disordered from sleep, his posture relaxed yet unmistakably dominant. The morning light traced sharp planes across his face – high cheekbones, straight nose, jaw carved with ruthless precision.

Tall.

Powerful.

Unapproachable.

His presence filled the space like gravity itself had thickened.

Fear and something dangerously close to awe collided inside her chest, as the bond roared to life.

Her heartbeat slammed wildly against her ribs.

He frowned slightly, studying her as if trying to understand a problem that refused to behave logically.

“Where are you going so early?”

The sound of his voice grounded her just enough to remember oxygen existed.

She inhaled sharply.

His gaze dropped briefly to her shoes… then her clothes… then back to her face.

2/4

<Work Drama

He waited.

She swallowed hard, dragging herself out of the trance his presence always created.

“To work.”

Silence.

A flicker of genuine confusion crossed his features.

“What?”

Iva blinked.

“To work,” she repeated, slower, as if he had simply misheard.

His brows drew together more deeply now, irritation threading through his aura.

“You are not leaving.”

The words were not loud.

But they landed with the weight of command.

Her spine stiffened instinctively.

Her pulse kicked harder.

“With all due respect,” she said carefully, “I have a job.”

He studied her for a long moment – long enough that her palms began to sweat.

“You fainted.”

“I am fine.”

“You live in a hostile environment.”

“I manage.”

“You are under my protection.”

The words hit her harder than anything else he had said.

She froze to the unexpected choice of words.

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