The morning after Zach climbed into my bed, everything felt wrong. When my eyes first fluttered open, I didn’t move. I lay there with my cheek pressed against the pillow, staring at the faint cracks in the ceiling, listening for him. My breaths ca shallow, caught between hope and terror, because every morning since I’d been dragged into the Alpha’s quarters had begun the sa way with him. Sotis it was his shadow looming in the corner, waiting for to notice. Sotis it was his voice, that rasping, poisonous tone that always seed to seep straight into my ears and coil around my spine. Other mornings, it was his hand, brushing hair from my face in a parody of gentleness before tightening hard enough to remind who I belonged to. But today there was nothing everywhere was silent.
The kind of silence that made hold my breath because it didn’t feel like peace. It felt like the world was baiting into relaxing before the trap snapped shut again. I turned my head slowly, almost afraid of what I’d see beside . The space was empty. No towering fra. No heat. The sheets were smooth and cold, tucked neatly as if he had never climbed into them at all.
For one dizzy second, I thought maybe I had imagined last night. Maybe I’d dread the suffocating weight of his body beside mine, the way his arms had locked around like chains. Maybe the mory of his uneven breathing against my neck had been so twisted trick of my exhausted mind.
But no. I knew better. The crazy didn’t give the rcy of dreams. I sat up, every muscle trembling, scanning the corners of the room. He loved hiding in shadows, loved watching flinch when I finally realized he’d been there all along. But there was no movent. No scrape of boots. Not even the faintest trace of his breathing.
The scent in the air was faint pine, smoke, and iron, his scent. Always sharp, always suffocating. But today it was diluted, lingering like smoke after a fire, not choking like it usually did. My fingers gripped the blanket until my knuckles turned white. At first, I thought it was a trick. Zach loved tricks more than anything. He loved dangling the idea of freedom in front of , making believe I’d slipped the leash, only to snap it tight enough to burn.
So I stayed still. Listening. Waiting. Heart pounding and there was Still nothing. Finally, I forced myself to move. My bare feet touched the cold floor, the chill running up my spine like an on. My eyes darted to the door unlocked. My throat closed around the gasp that wanted to escape. The door was never unlocked. It looks like a miracle. Trap. I couldn’t tell the difference. I crept forward, each step careful, soft, like walking over broken glass. My hand trembled on the knob before I turned it and slipped into the hallway it was Empty. The air out there was even quieter than in the room. Normally, his guards would be stationed outside, two of them always watching, sneering at like I was a pet gone rabid. But there was no one. My gaze flicked toward his chambers. His door was closed, shut so tightly the wood seed to groan against the fra. No guards there either. No voices. I stood frozen, my heart hamring, and listened. Usually, if he was near, I would hear it that low growling echo, the sound of his inner voice bleeding through the cracks like smoke. But today even his inner voice was quiet which is very strange to . "Wait! The realization hit like ice water is he trying to avoid . Crazy psycho. But the psycho avoiding that terrified more than anything. Alpha Zach never avoided . He was everywhere. He lingered in doorways just to remind I couldn’t leave, stood over while I ate until the food turned to ash in my mouth, dragged into his chaos whenever silence threatened to stretch too long. If he wasn’t watching, he was touching. If he wasn’t touching, he was whispering. If he wasn’t whispering, he was laughing that broken laugh that made my skin crawl. And for him to disappear? To leave in silence? It wasn’t freedom. It was the storm sucking the air out of the world before it finally broke. I didn’t know what was worse anymore his obsessive attention or this. The kitchen was the first place I saw anyone else. The staff froze when I entered, as if they didn’t know whether to bow or to recoil. Their eyes flicked behind , searching for him, and when they didn’t find him, their whispers started.
"Where is the Alpha?" one of the ogas asked, clutching a spoon like it was a weapon.
"He hasn’t co out since dawn," another murmured back. "Refused his al. Threw the tray back."
A third oga crossed herself, as if even speaking of his defiance of routine might summon his wrath. Their words crawled beneath my skin. Alpha Zach refusing food? That wasn’t him. His appetite was as vicious as his temper. To deny himself ant sothing was broken.
"Maybe he’s ill," soone whispered, voice trembling.
No. My fists curled at my sides. Not sick. The psycho wasn’t the type to get sick. He was the sickness. He infected everyone else. I slipped away before their chatter could claw deeper into my chest, but the knot in my stomach only tightened. I sat alone in the dining hall with a plate of bread and eggs in front of , untouched. My hands shook when I reached for the fork. I couldn’t force myself to swallow a bite. Because I knew. I don know what that psycho is planning for . The day dragged like a knife over skin. Every creak of the floorboards made flinch. Every shadow stretched too long, curling at the edges like smoke. My skin crawled with the feeling of eyes on , even though the halls were empty. By midday, the ogas cleaning the corridors were stealing glances at , whispering behind their hands. They looked at like I was supposed to know. As if being the crazy Alpha’s personal oga gave answers. But I knew nothing. I wasn’t his confidant. I wasn’t his mate. I wasn’t anything except his possession. His toy. The fragile tether he used to keep the voices in his head from swallowing him whole. When dinner ca, the oga knocked on his chamber door again. No answer. The tray ca back untouched. The at still steaming. The wine bottle cracked open, spilling dark red across the hallway floor as though he’d hurled it in disgust. By then, my fear had curdled into panic. This wasn’t avoidance. This was punishnt. Silent punishnt, stretched thin and sharp, the kind that built until it collapsed all at once. He was plotting. He was choosing how best to break next. By nightfall, I was unraveling. I sat on the edge of my bed, knees hugged to my chest, staring at the door as if it would explode inward at any second. The walls seed thinner, the shadows darker. The quiet more suffocating than his voice had ever been. I should have been grateful. I should have savored the space, the silence, the chance to breathe without him pressing down on . But instead, my body wouldn’t stop trembling.
Because I knew it wouldn’t last. Nothing with him ever lasted. Sleep finally dragged under soti after midnight, though it felt more like drowning than rest. And when I woke, I knew instantly sothing was wrong.
Arms. Heavy, iron-strong arms wrapped around my waist, pulling back against a chest as solid as stone. Heat seared through my nightgown, hot and uneven breaths ghosting across the back of my neck. My blood froze. No. No, no, no— I turned my head the smallest inch, just enough to see him in the dim light of a candle guttering on the desk. Black hair tangled and wild. Jaw clenched even in sleep.
Alpha Zach. In my bed. Again.
He had co back while I slept, silent as a predator. I couldn’t move. His grip was too strong, binding like shackles made of flesh and bone. My pulse pounded so loud in my ears I thought it would wake him. But the most terrifying thing wasn’t that he was holding . It was his face. He wasn’t smirking. Wasn’t sneering. Wasn’t watching with that cruel, hungry glint. His brows were furrowed, teeth clenched, body shuddering as though caught in so nightmare too deep to escape. He was clinging to like I was the only thing keeping him from falling apart. I shut my eyes tight, praying for morning, praying for the weight to lift, for air to return to my lungs.
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