The sunlight crept in through the cracks of the window, slicing across my face like thin blades of fire. It was morning but it didn’t feel like it. My body was heavy, my mind foggy, as though I’d been trapped in a storm all night.
For a mont, I didn’t rember where I was. Then I saw the small wooden dresser, the peeling wall, and Joan’s folded blanket in the corner. The oga’s quarter. Safe. Or at least... safer than his room.
I sat up slowly, my head pounding. Every muscle ached. My skin felt oddly sensitive, as if it had been touched pressed by sothing I couldn’t rember.
"Elie?" Joan’s voice ca softly from across the room. She was already awake, brushing her hair. When she saw stir, she set the brush down and frowned. "You look like you didn’t sleep at all."
I tried to force a smile. "I didn’t."
"Another nightmare?"
I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to. The look in her eyes said she already knew.
Elara entered a mont later with a basin of warm water, her usual energy dulled by concern. "You were tossing and turning again," she said quietly, placing the basin on the floor beside . "You were whispering, too."
My stomach twisted. "What what did I say?"
Elara hesitated. "You kept saying his na."
I froze. "Whose?"
"The Alpha’s."
The air left my lungs in a painful rush. I looked down at my trembling hands, unable to speak.
Joan knelt beside , worry etched all over her face. "Ellie, you’re scaring us. These dreams... they’re getting worse, aren’t they?"
I nodded weakly, my throat too tight to form words.
Elara sighed and handed a small towel. "Wash up, at least. Maybe you’ll feel better."
I dipped the towel into the basin, the water warm against my cold fingers. But as soon as I pressed it to my neck, I froze.
Because the skin there hurt.
Not a normal kind of soreness it burned.
I slowly pulled the towel away, my heart starting to race. The edge of the fabric ca back faintly pink.
Joan’s eyes widened. "Ellie... what’s that?"
I rushed to the cracked mirror by the wall, pushing my hair aside. My reflection stared back at pale, exhausted, trembling. But what caught my breath were the marks.
Red, faint, but unmistakable. Around my throat.
Finger marks.
My heart stopped.
Elara gasped softly. "Ellie... did you did soone—?"
"I don’t know," I whispered, my voice shaking. "I don’t rember..."
But I did. A flash — a hand closing around my neck. The sound of his voice, low and calm.
"Inner Voice: You shouldn’t have scread, Ellie.
The sa words I’d heard in my dream. My legs gave out, and I grabbed the edge of the dresser to steady myself. "It wasn’t a dream," I breathed. "He was here."
Joan’s voice trembled. "Don’t say that. The Alpha would never—"
"Wouldn’t he?" I snapped, louder than I intended. "You’ve seen what he’s capable of!"
Silence filled the room, thick and suffocating. I turned back to the mirror, my heart pounding in my ears. The marks looked too real to be imagined. Too vivid to dismiss.
Joan reached out, her voice soft but firm. "Ellie, maybe you hurt yourself in your sleep. You were thrashing around, rember?"
But even as she said it, her eyes betrayed her doubt.
Elara crossed her arms, glancing nervously toward the window. "If what you’re saying is true... if he can get inside your dreams—"
"Then nowhere is safe," I finished for her, my voice barely above a whisper.
The three of us stood in silence, the morning light spilling between us like a lie.
Finally, Joan spoke again. "You need to rest. I’ll tell Elizabeth you’re unwell. Don’t go near the Alpha’s quarter today."
I wanted to agree. I wanted to say yes, to stay hidden forever in this small room and never feel his presence again.
But deep inside, the witch’s voice whispered like a curse I couldn’t escape.
"Only when he loves you will the path ho open.
If this was love, it was twisted. Poisoned. But I had no choice I had to endure it. Even if it ant being haunted by him in my dreams. Joan left to fetch so herbs from the healer’s hut. Elara stayed behind, watching closely as I wrapped a scarf around my neck.
"You’re still going to him, aren’t you?" she asked quietly.
I froze. Elara sighed. "You don’t have to say it. I can see it in your eyes."
I turned away. "He’s the key, Elara. If I stay away, I’ll never find a way back ho."
She stepped closer, lowering her voice. "What if he breaks you before you find it?"
Her words cut deeper than I wanted to admit. I didn’t answer.
By afternoon, the packhouse had grown quiet again. Most ogas were out running errands or tending to duties, leaving the quarter empty. I sat on my bed, staring at my reflection in a small hand mirror, tracing the faint outline of those marks.
Each one looked like a ghost’s fingerprint fading, but there.
My mind kept replaying that dream. The way he stood by my bed. The way his eyes seed to burn through .
It hadn’t felt violent. Not exactly.
It had felt possessive.
The kind of control that made my blood turn to ice.
And yet, deep inside, a voice whispered He ca to you.
When Joan returned, she brought a small jar of salve and pressed it into my hand. "For the bruises," she said softly. "If anyone asks, say you fell."
I nodded mutely.
But when night fell, and the others drifted to sleep, I lay awake again staring at the shadows dancing on the wall. Every flicker made flinch. Every creak of the old wood sounded like footsteps.
And when the wind blew through the cracks, I swore I heard it that sa haunting whisper curling through the dark.
" Wildflower.
My breath hitched.
"Inner voice: Did you miss ?
I buried my face in my hands, trembling. "Go away," I whispered into the darkness. "Please, just go away."
I squeezed my eyes shut, shaking my head violently.
But the voice only deepened, softer now, dangerous in its calmness.
"Inner voice: You’re mine, Ellie. Even in your dreams.
Sothing inside shattered then. The thin thread between fear and madness stretched too tight, threatening to snap.
I bit my lip until I tasted blood, my chest rising and falling in sharp, uneven breaths. I wanted to scream, to run, but my voice refused to co.
The whisper faded — leaving only silence.
But I knew he was still there. Watching. Waiting.
Because when I finally looked toward the window, I saw it a faint shadow disappearing into the trees outside, tall and broad, outlined against the moonlight.
For one heartbeat, I thought it was just my imagination.
But then the scent hit . Smoke. Pine. Him. And my whole body went cold.
He had been there. Again. Watching . The marks on my throat throbbed like a warning or a promise.
I sank to my knees, trembling uncontrollably as the truth settled deep in my bones.
There was no waking from this nightmare.
Joan watched from across the room, her expression skeptical as I braided my hair and adjusted my worn apron.
"You’re going again, aren’t you?" she said flatly.
I kept my back turned. "It’s my duty, Joan. The Alpha needs his breakfast."
She crossed her arms. "The Alpha doesn’t need you. He’s got dozens of ogas. Why does he only call for you?"
Because the witch said he would.
Because sothing about draws him like a curse.
Because I can hear what he doesn’t say.
I swallowed the truth and turned, forcing a small smile. "Maybe he just likes how I make his tea."
Elara groaned. "You’re hopeless."
"Maybe." I picked up the tray, balancing it carefully in my hands. "But I’m still alive. That’s sothing."
The walk to the Alpha’s quarter felt longer than usual. The air was damp, heavy with the scent of rain and pine. My footsteps echoed softly on the polished floors, each one matching the erratic rhythm of my heartbeat.
When I reached his door, I hesitated.
My hand hovered over the handle, trembling slightly. I took a deep breath, trying to quiet the panic that clawed at my chest.
Just a dream, I reminded myself. He doesn’t know. He can’t know.
I knocked softly.
No answer.
For a mont, I thought he wasn’t inside. But then I heard it—faint footsteps. A chair scraping. The sound of fabric shifting.
"Co in."
His voice. Low. asured. Dangerous. I pushed the door open. He was sitting by the window again, reading sothing. The light from the morning sun kissed his features, making them look almost too sharp to be real. He didn’t look up when I entered, but I could feel his attention, like a hand ghosting over my skin.
"Good morning, Alpha," I whispered, setting the tray down on the table.
No response. I waited a mont, fidgeting with the edge of my apron. My chest felt tight. The air between us was thick with sothing unnad sothing that made it hard to breathe.
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