When I opened my eyes, the world was hazy, blurred as though my lashes were drenched in fog. My body felt strangely heavy, limbs sinking into the mattress beneath . The faint scent of iron clung to the air, tallic and sharp, making my stomach turn before I even rembered where I was or what had happened. Then sothing wet touched my skin. A cold, damp pressure sliding across my arm. I jerked faintly, not fully awake, and a low hum reached my ears. A voice calm, asured, frighteningly gentle.
"Easy, little rabbit... you’re awake sooner than I thought."
My eyes widened, the haze burning away like mist under fire. The room sharpened, my heart lurched, and I realized where I was. Back in his chambers. The psycho Alpha’s quarters.
And he was there, sitting on the edge of the bed beside .
The sight froze my blood. He had rolled up the sleeves of his black shirt, revealing forearms streaked faintly with water and a sar of drying red. His hand moved steadily, holding a damp towel that he pressed against my bare shoulder, dragging slowly down toward my wrist. Each movent was careful, deliberate, almost tender. Wait! What? He was cleaning . My stomach twisted, bile rising as flashes from the dungeon returned the girl’s screams echoing against the stone, the tallic spray of her blood, his voice cutting through the air with cold amusent before her life was ended in a heartbeat. And ... standing there until the horror was too much, until the world had spun and darkness had swallowed whole. Now I was here. On his bed. With him wiping down as if I were so fragile doll he didn’t want stained.
I tried to move away. My body flinched, but his hand pressed lightly against my wrist, not harsh, not violent yet unyielding. His strength was in that simple touch, and I knew I couldn’t pull free even if I tried.
"Shhh." His voice slid over like velvet, soft but dangerous. "Don’t make sudden movents. You fainted. Your body needs rest."
His words were smooth, spoken like a caretaker’s reassurance, but I could hear the cracks beneath them.
"Inner voice: Pathetic. She couldn’t even stomach a little blood. What a weakling. Still, it’s... amusing.
I stiffened, my pulse hamring against my throat. He didn’t know. He still didn’t know that I could hear them. And if he ever found out my own will be finished.
I forced my breathing to steady, though my chest wanted to heave with panic. I looked at him, at the careful way his hand moved the towel along my forearm, wiping away faint streaks of sothing I didn’t want to identify.
His eyes lifted to mine. Silver, calm, disturbingly serene.
"You’ll thank ," he said softly. "The scent of another’s blood shouldn’t linger on your skin. It doesn’t belong to you."
"Inner voice: Mine should be the only scent marking her. She doesn’t even realize it yet.
I bit down on my lip hard enough to taste copper. Every instinct scread at to recoil, to scream, to run. But my body was trapped, pinned more by fear than his hand.
"You..." My voice cracked, rough from disuse and panic. "You killed her."
The towel paused. A faint smile touched his lips.
"Yes." His tone was casual, like discussing the weather. "She was useless. A traitor." He dipped the towel back into a bowl of water I hadn’t noticed on the bedside table. The clear liquid rippled faintly, darkened by streaks of pink that swirled before vanishing into transparency again. He wrung it out slowly, the droplets falling back into the bowl like ticking seconds.
Then he leaned closer, pressing the cool fabric against the hollow of my throat.
I couldn’t stop the shiver that ran through .
"You shouldn’t have fainted," he murmured, his eyes fixed on the spot he was wiping. "It disappointed ."
"Inner voice: Pathetic little rabbit. But watching her crumble is so intoxicating. I could break her without lifting a finger. Maybe I already have.
My breath caught. Every word in his mind twisted around like invisible chains.
I wanted to scream, to fight, but instead, I whispered, "Why are you doing this?"
His eyes flicked up to mine again, unreadable. Then he smiled soft, disarming, wrong.
"Because you’re my personal oga. And mine should be clean."
"Inner voice: And afraid. Always afraid. Fear makes her eyes shine. I like it.
The towel slid lower, across my collarbone, brushing the edge of the thin fabric that covered . I grabbed the sheet instinctively, clutching it to my chest. His gaze lingered there for a second before he chuckled quietly, as though amused by a child’s stubbornness.
He pulled the towel away, dipped it again, wrung it out. Over and over, thodical, as if every inch of had to be purified from what I had witnessed. The silence stretched, broken only by the soft sound of water and fabric against skin. My thoughts scread, colliding inside , begging to do sothing say sothing, move, escape but my body was frozen, trapped beneath his presence.
"Inner voice: She’ll learn soon enough. Once she breaks completely, she’ll see as the only thing that matters.
His towel returned to its slow, thodical path, and I closed my eyes, pretending to drift, pretending to let exhaustion drag down. Inside, I trembled, listening to every poisonous thought that bled through his mind.
He was dangerous. Beyond dangerous. And I was caught in his web. I must have drifted. My eyelids sank shut, too heavy to keep open, even though every instinct told it was dangerous to sleep with him so close. Maybe it was exhaustion, or maybe the remnants of fainting still clung to . But as soon as the darkness took , I realized my mistake. The dungeon’s walls rose around again. Damp, stone, suffocating. The stench of rot and blood filled my lungs. Chains clinked, and the faint whimper of a girl echoed in the shadows.
I turned my head. She was there. The girl he killed. Her eyes were wide, lifeless, but they locked on as though she still had breath. Her mouth opened, and instead of a scream, a thick stream of blood poured out, trailing down her chin.
"You didn’t save ..." she whispered, though her lips never moved. The voice was in my skull, sharp and accusing. "You watched. You did nothing."
"I—I couldn’t..." My voice trembled in the dream, though I wasn’t sure if it was even my voice anymore.
Her hands reached out, skeletal fingers stretching toward . Her skin peeled away as she stepped closer, and her body dragged itself with broken jerks, head lolling from side to side.
"You let him kill . Now he’ll kill you."
The chains rattled. The sound grew louder, deafening, as though they wrapped around my own wrists and ankles. My body froze, pinned. She lood closer, her face inches from mine, and I could sll the rot of her breath, heavy with iron and death.
Then her whisper turned into a scream
"You’re next!"
I scread too And my eyes snapped open. The ceiling of his room lood above . My throat was raw, my chest heaving, sweat slicking my skin. The sheets tangled around like the chains from the dream. For a mont I didn’t know if I was still trapped. Then I saw him.
The psycho Alpha sat in the armchair near the bed, one elbow on the armrest, fingers curled against his temple as he studied with that sa unnerving calm. His silver eyes reflected faint candlelight, gleaming like a predator’s in the dark.
"You dream loudly," he said, voice smooth, almost curious.
She’s breaking faster than I thought. Good. Fear makes her pliable.
My stomach twisted. The dream clung to like cobwebs, sticky and suffocating. The girl’s ghostly face wouldn’t leave my mind.
I couldn’t stay here. I couldn’t breathe with him watching , with his thoughts wrapping around like invisible chains. I shoved the sheets back, stumbled to my feet. My legs were weak, trembling, but adrenaline burned hot in my veins.
"Ellie." His voice followed , low and steady.
I didn’t look back. I ran.
The chamber doors weren’t locked, at least not this ti. My hands fumbled against the handle, then yanked it open. Cold air rushed against my face as I bolted into the corridor.
Bare feet slapped against stone. My breath echoed too loud in my ears, ragged and uneven. I didn’t know where I was going, only that I needed to be anywhere but there, anywhere away from him. Behind , silence. He didn’t follow. Not yet. But his voice, that inner voice I couldn’t escape, slithered into my head anyway.
"Inner voice: Run, little rabbit. Run as far as you can. It won’t matter. You’ll co back to .
My heart lurched, and I sprinted faster, even though I knew he was right.
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