I thought I had survived the day. The sun had gone down, and for the first ti in what felt like forever, I was sitting in the cramped, musty quarters with the other ogas. My legs still ached from chasing after Alpha Zach like so broken puppy all day into the council hall, the training ground, even when he went to inspect border reports. Every step had felt like a noose tightening around my neck. But now, finally, I was back here. Four walls that slled of damp hay and old soap, yes, but walls that were mine. For once, I wasn’t under his shadow, under his voice, under his insane eyes.
I curled against the wall, arms around my knees, trying to pretend this was peace. Around , the other ogas whispered in low voices. Their laughter was thin, nervous, but at least they were breathing easier without him around. Elara sat on her cot plaiting her hair with trembling hands. She’d been watching all day with pity.
"You’re pale," she whispered, glancing at . "Did he—?"
"Don’t." My voice cracked. "Don’t say his na."
Her lips pressed shut. No one wanted to summon him like so monster from a bedti story.
The oil lamp sputtered on the wooden shelf, shadows stretching along the cracked plaster. I forced myself to breathe. In, out. Maybe tonight he’d leave alone. Maybe the psycho Alpha would forget I even existed.
That fragile hope lasted only until the door slamd open.
The crack of wood against the wall made every single oga freeze. Elara’s braid slipped from her fingers. My heart crashed into my ribs. I didn’t need to look. I already knew. Alpha Zach! He filled the doorway like the night itself had grown legs and a smirk. His black hair looked damp, like he’d just co from training, and his shirt clung to his chest. The lamplight carved his jaw into shadows, and his eyes those sharp, glinting things swept over us like we were ants waiting to be crushed.
His lips curved. Too calm. Too deliberate. "Ellie."
No. No, not now. Not here.
He stepped inside, boots heavy on the floorboards. The sll of leather and smoke followed him, thick enough to choke .
"You think you can stay here?" His voice was smooth, almost amused, but the words slid under my skin like knives. "You think you can sleep with them while I—"
He stopped. His head tilted. His inner voice snapped
"Inner voice: Run to or I’ll smash your pretty little skull against the wall. Splatter, crack, red on white. Ha. Wouldn’t that be a painting?
I froze. Every drop of blood in turned to ice.
His mouth never moved, but the words were in , around , suffocating . My throat worked soundlessly.
And then he said it aloud. "If you don’t co now, Ellie, I will smash your head."
Gasps filled the room. Elara made a small, squeaking sound, then horrifyingly warm liquid trickled down from her cot. She had pissed herself. From fear. From him.
Alpha Zach’s gaze flicked lazily toward her, like a cat watching a mouse drown. He grinned.
"Elara, was it?" His tone was honeyed cruelty. "Cute."
Her face crumpled as she tried to cover the spreading stain on the floor. Tears welled in her eyes.
I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t let him hurt them. Before my brain could even process it, my legs were moving. I stumbled up from the cot, shoving past another oga, and ran. Ran straight for him.
The only thought burning in was don’t let him smash my head, don’t let him smash their heads. He caught , of course. He always did. His hand shot out and gripped my wrist like an iron cuff, stopping mid-step. His laugh low, delighted, terrifying rumbled against my ear as he yanked closer.
Good girl. Obedient little thing. Always cos back when I say "smash."
I flinched at the words inside , but my body betrayed again, leaning forward just to stop the pressure on my wrist. Behind us, the ogas didn’t move, didn’t breathe. Fear locked them in place. The sll of urine still lingered from Elara’s accident, sharp and sour in the air. The crazy psycho bent down until his mouth brushed close to my hair. "Let’s go, Ellie. Ogas’ quarters don’t suit you. You belong in my den."
No. No, no, no But his grip tightened, dragging backward, pulling through the doorway into the night. The door slamd shut behind us, sealing the ogas inside their prison of silence. I tried to dig my heels into the dirt, but it was useless. His strength was monstrous. My wrist throbbed under his hold. Every step away from the ogas’ quarters felt like another chain wrapped around .
"A-Alpha please," I whispered, voice breaking. "Not tonight. Please, just just let stay."
He chuckled, low and dangerous.
"Inner Voice: Stay? With them? Little rats who piss themselves when I look their way? No. You’re mine. My toy. My shadow. My echo. You don’t sleep unless it’s where I can hear you breathe.
I squeezed my eyes shut. His inner voice was everywhere. Funny to him, horrifying to .
"Why ?" The question tore out of , desperate, ragged.
He paused, just for a second, before leaning down until his lips brushed the edge of my ear.
"Because you make the best faces when you’re scared."
I shivered violently. The night stretched endless around us. The Alphas’ quarter lood ahead, dark and towering like a monster waiting to swallow whole. His hand never left . And as he dragged back inside, his inner voice coiled again.
"Inner Voice: One day, Ellie, you will stop running. You will stop begging. You will realize the only place you belong is right here. In my madness.
The air in the Alpha’s quarters was thick. Not with smoke, not with perfu — but with him. That suffocating presence, that mix of raw dominance and unfiltered madness that clung to every surface. Even the air felt claid, like it had signed so contract agreeing to serve only Alpha Zach’s lungs. I sat stiffly at the edge of the sofa, clutching my hands in my lap, praying he wouldn’t notice how badly they trembled. Of course, praying was pointless. Because this was Alpha Zach.
The psycho Alpha. The nightmare of every oga and pack mbers whispered about in the safety of kitchens and laundry halls, never daring to speak his na too loudly in case he appeared behind them, grinning.
"Inner voice: Noodles."
The sudden word snapped out of my thoughts. I blinked at him. He was sprawled across a couch like it was a throne, shirt half-open, hair a little ssy, one arm dangling lazily over the armrest. His amber eyes glittered with that mix of boredom and amusent that usually ended with soone crying..
His lips curled. "Make noodles."
I froze. "...Noodles?"
"Yes." He didn’t even look at , just stared at the ceiling like the command was as casual as asking for water. Then his inner voice rumbled through my head the voice he didn’t know I could hear.
Inner Voice: If she refuses, I’ll eat her instead. Ogas probably taste like chicken. Or marshmallows. Hm. Noodle-flavored oga? No, too chewy.
My stomach dropped. Chicken. Marshmallows. Chewy. He was debating eating . I forced a smile that felt more like rigor mortis. "Of course, Alpha."
"Inner Voice: Good girl. Obedient. Pretty little doctor-oga, now reduced to my noodle maid. Heh. Let’s see if she tries to poison . That’d be fun.
My heart skipped. Poison?Wait. Not poison but an idea slamd into my brain. Laxatives. Not enough to kill, not enough to get executed, but just enough to make his royal psycho stomach cramp and send him sprinting to the bathroom in humiliating defeat. It was perfect. Revenge disguised as noodles. I bit my lip to hide the sudden spark of wicked delight bubbling in my chest.
Because before I woke up in this nightmare wolf-world, I had been a doctor. And not just a doctor a resourceful one. I knew plants, compounds, body reactions. Even here, surrounded by herbs and tonics, I could whip up sothing effective. I stood up, bowed slightly, and made my way toward the little kitchen nook in his quarters.
His gaze followed lazily, his inner voice slithering after .
"Inner Voice: There she goes. Little oga tail swishing nervously. She thinks she has a chance. Maybe she’s plotting. Oh, I hope so. Life is boring without a little treachery. My hands shook as I pulled out ingredients.
Noodles. Salt a few crushed herbs. The small packet I had hidden earlier, just in case.
Laxatives weren’t poison. Not really. Just persuasion for the intestines. Gentle persuasion.
I worked quickly, mixing, stirring, slipping in the powdered dose. My mind raced with dark glee. He would suffer. The great and terrifying Alpha Zach, brought low by a toilet bowl. I almost giggled.
"Inner voice: She’s taking too long. What’s she doing? Should I sneak up and sniff her hair? Hm. Ogas hate that. But her hair slls like fear, and fear is delicious. Noodles and fear. Yum.
I stiffened, spoon pausing mid-stir. My god.
He was insane But also... kind of funny in a horrifying, I-might-die way. Finally, the noodles were done. I plated them carefully, sprinkling a few harmless herbs on top for effect. My heart pounded as I carried the steaming bowl back to him. He was still sprawled on the couch, staring at nothing, lips curled in a faint smirk. I placed the bowl on the low table. "Your noodles, Alpha." His gaze slid lazily to the bowl. Then to . Then back to the bowl. Slowly, he sat up, leaning forward, resting his chin on one hand.
"Inner voice: She thinks she’s clever. That sparkle in her eyes she definitely added sothing. Heh. Should I pretend to die? Collapse dramatically? That’d scare her pants off. Literally. Hm. Not yet. First slurp.
He picked up the chopsticks, twirled the noodles, and shoved a large bite into his mouth. I held my breath. But noting happened. He took another bite. Another. And another. The entire bowl was gone in less than five minutes. I waited. My palms were sweating. Any second now, the cramps would hit. His stomach would betray him. The mighty Alpha would run, clutching his abdon, and I
"Hmm." He licked the fork clean, then set them down with a click. His amber eyes pinned . "Not bad."
I blinked. "Not... bad?"
"Inner voice: Pathetic attempt. I can taste the laxatives. Cute. She thinks wolf digestion works like humans. My stomach could dissolve rocks if I wanted. Or maybe I will just keep them inside, let them stew, and fart at the council eting tomorrow. That’d be hilarious.
My jaw nearly dropped.
He knew. The psycho knew, and he didn’t care and the laxatives hadn’t worked. At all. I had thrown myself into danger, risked everything for nothing.
"You’re staring," he said flatly.
I snapped my gaze down. "S-sorry, Alpha."
"Inner voice: She looks so guilty. Like a puppy who peed on the carpet. Should I punish her? Hm. Maybe make her cook noodles every day until she cries. Or maybe no. I’ll let her stew. Fear ages like fine wine.
I swallowed hard. My plan had backfired.
Not only had he noticed, but he was enjoying my failure.
"Make them again tomorrow," he said casually, reclining once more.
"Y-Yes, Alpha."
"Inner voice: Good. Maybe she’ll try again. Maybe next ti she’ll add poison. Oh, little oga, keep playing. I will always win.
My knees nearly buckled.
"Inner Voice: or maybe I should do sothing bad to her?
Oh no. I shouted and took to my heel.
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