Twin Alpha's Black Hearts

Godiva

The first thing I noticed wasn’t the time.

It was the eyes.

Two faint yellow glints in the dark corner of my room—like a cat’s, but too high, too still, too aware. I blinked hard. A car horn blared outside, and when I looked again, the corner was empty.

Just shadows. Probably just my imagination.

Then my alarm screamed.

I jolted upright. “Crap—seven already!”

The panic hit me like a punch. I threw off the thin blanket and scrambled out of bed, my bare feet slapping the cold floorboards. My room smelled faintly of dust and damp clothes—Aunt Caylee refused to fix the leaking window—and while I tried to smooth my hair down, voices from the kitchen erupted.

“Where is that useless girl?”

“Godiva! Get out here!”

Well. Good morning to me.

I forced my legs forward, each step heavier than the last. The moment I stepped into the kitchen, Aunt Caylee spun around. Her face was red, eyes blazing. Kayleigh, my cousin, stood behind her wearing the expression of someone who’d just kicked over a sandcastle and was waiting to watch the owner cry.

“What did you do to Kayleigh?” Aunt Caylee snarled.

Ah. The daily ritual. No breakfast needed.

“I didn’t do anything,” I said quietly, my fingers curling together. “I just…”

“That money you hid last night—don’t you dare lie. Where did you get it?”

My wrist throbbed where last night’s punishment had left angry marks. A reminder of a hundred-vora bill that went missing from her purse—one I actually saw Kayleigh pocket. But my word never won against hers.

“It was my bonus,” I said. “I need it for new shoes. Mine are ripping.”

Kayleigh scoffed. “Then you should work harder.”

I didn’t get to respond.

The bowl flew before I even saw her throw it. It smashed near my feet, shards glittering like ice. Pain shot through my temple where something clipped me, but I kept my chin up. Crying only made them hit harder.

“Give it to her,” Aunt Caylee demanded. “Or I’ll make last night look gentle.”

My pulse drummed painfully. Each vora bill I’d saved felt like a lifeline—one step closer to leaving this house forever. But I swallowed the bitterness and walked back to my room. My purse was thin. Pathetic. So was my pride, apparently.

I returned and handed Kayleigh the money. She smirked like I’d just served her a dessert.

“Now clean up this mess and make breakfast,” Aunt Caylee ordered. “Move.”

I moved like I always did.

But as I cracked eggs into the pan, I kept replaying the earlier moment in my room—the pair of yellow eyes watching me. It wasn’t like any nightmare I’d ever had. It felt… aware.

Like something was waiting for me to wake up.

**

Twenty minutes later, I was out the door with a quick goodbye no one answered. The morning air hit my bruised face, cold and sharp. I walked fast, every painful step reminding me how badly I needed out of that house.

At the bus stop, I kept glancing over my shoulder. No reason. Just instinct. The kind that made your skin prickle.

Something felt off.

A tingle crawled up my spine—the same sensation I felt a few minutes before Aunt Caylee threw that bowl. Like being watched.

When the bus finally arrived, I practically dove into the packed crowd. Better crushed by strangers than stared at by… whatever that was.

By the time I reached the pizzeria, I had forced my heartbeat to calm.

But Bree greeted me with a whisper-shout. “Girl, boss has been looking for you.”

“Of course he has,” I muttered. My voice cracked.

Mauricio found me near the prep station. His expression melted from irritation to sympathy as soon as he saw my face.

“You okay?” he asked softly.

“Yeah,” I lied. “What’s up?”

He handed me a paper slip. “Urgent delivery. High-end apartment. They requested my best employee. That’s you. Don’t mess it up.”

I nodded, grateful for the excuse to leave the building. Work was the only place I felt remotely safe—even if it meant weaving through downtown traffic on a scooter with unreliable brakes.

**

Sycamore Street was worlds away from my town. The towering apartment complex loomed over me like something out of a luxury magazine. Security checked my ID, and I took the elevator up, feeling more out of place with every beep.

The doors slid open to a pristine hallway.

“Unit ten,” I murmured to myself, checking the slip.

A man in a navy uniform turned at the sound of my voice. His sunglasses hid most of his face, but his jawline was sharp enough to cut glass.

“Unit ten,” he said. “This way. Don't keep him waiting.”

His voice was low, almost too smooth. Something about him felt… wrong. When he removed his glasses for a second, his eyes caught the light—

They flashed yellow.

A chill punched through me. I blinked, and the glow was gone. He was already walking away.

Okay, yeah. I was definitely losing my mind.

I followed the numbers along the hallway until I found 10. I raised a shaky hand to ring the bell—

The door creaked open on its own.

I froze.

“Hello?” My voice barely came out.

The lights flickered—once, twice—then died completely.

Darkness swallowed the hall. Except for one thing.

Two yellow orbs glowed inside the room.

My breath stuttered. My body locked up.

The same eyes from my room. The same feeling of being hunted.

The pizza boxes trembled in my hands as I took a tiny step back. Maybe I could run or scream instantly, but…

A hand shot out of the darkness and clamped hard around my wrist.

I yelped as I was yanked inside, the door slamming shut behind me.

“What the hell—?! Let me go!”

The grip tightened. It felt warm. Powerful. Human… but not human.

A low growl rumbled near my ear—too deep, too primal to belong to any man I’d ever met.

My heartbeat ricocheted painfully against my ribs. My thoughts tangled.

This wasn’t in my job description.

“Godiva Fletcher,” a voice murmured from the dark. It sounded smooth. Familiar. Inescapable.

“You’re late.”

My blood turned to ice.

He knew my name.

My voice finally cracked free. “Who are you?!”

There was a pause—long enough to made me want to scream.

When he finally spoke, the sound wrapped around me like heat.

“You’re my mate.”

The lights blasted back on.

I gasped.

Standing inches from me was a man with a face so striking it didn’t seem real—sharp jawline, dark brown hair, eyes burning yellow not every human had.

And those were the eyes that had watched me in the dark.

The pizza boxes slipped from my hands and crashed to the floor.

But the sound didn’t matter. Because his eyes were still glowing.

And he wasn’t seemed to letting go.