By the ti I sank onto the bed in the ogas’ shared quarters, my body felt like it was made of lead. The mattress was lumpy, the blanket scratchy, but it was more comfort than I had known in what felt like an eternity. The faint warmth of other bodies, the soft rustle of movent in the large room, the familiar sll of laundry soap and firewood these were the scents of survival, of belonging, even if it was at the very bottom rung of the pack.
The ogas’ quarters were tucked at the far end of the pack house, three long rooms divided by flimsy partitions. Each room was crowded with rows of cots and wooden trunks where we kept our few belongings. The ceilings were low, the walls thin, but it was always full of whispers and tired laughter, hands busy with nding clothes, braiding hair, or rubbing warmth into aching shoulders. When I had stumbled through the door earlier, the others had gasped, their voices rising in shock. I’d been wrapped in arms, pressed with questions, offered bowls of thin stew and cups of water. Joan and Elara had clung to the hardest, their faces pale and wet from tears, as though they had been holding their breath from the mont I vanished. Now, after the noise settled, the room humd with quiet again. A few ogas sat by the hearth at the far end, nding uniforms. Two girls whispered near the window, their voices low but urgent. The air was heavy with unspoken questions. No one dared ntion his na, not here, not while I was still shaking.
Joan and Elara stayed close, their beds pressed on either side of mine. They hadn’t left since I ca back. Joan was brushing out her long dark hair, though her hands trembled so much that the brush snagged. Elara sat cross-legged on her blanket, picking at the hem of her dress until the threads unraveled.
I tried to close my eyes, but sleep wouldn’t co. Every ti my lashes lowered, I saw him standing in the doorway again, silent and watchful, his eyes stripping down to nothing. Every ti I tried to breathe, I felt the weight of his mocking thoughts against my skin, seeping into my bones.
I couldn’t stay here. Not for another night. The realization hit like a shard of glass to the chest. I sat up so suddenly that both Joan and Elara startled.
"We have to leave," I whispered, my voice raw.
Joan froze mid-brush. Elara looked up, her eyes wide.
"Leave... what?" Joan asked slowly, as though she hoped I ant sothing else.
"The pack," I said, forcing the words out before I lost the courage. "We can’t stay here. Not after this. We have to escape."
Elara dropped the fabric in her hands. The loose threads dangled like unraveling rope. "Ellie..." Her voice cracked. "Do you even hear yourself? Escape?"
I leaned forward, gripping the edge of my cot so tightly my knuckles ached. "Yes. Escape. You saw what he did. You saw what it’s like when he sets his eyes on soone. He’ll never stop. Today he let walk out, but tomorrow? Tomorrow he could lock the door and never open it again. You think we’re safe here? We’re not. We’re just waiting."
Joan shook her head, her eyes darting toward the other ogas across the room. They were busy with their sewing, but she still lowered her voice. "If we get caught, Ellie, it won’t just be us. The Alpha doesn’t punish one oga. He punishes all of us. Do you want to drag them into this too?"
Her words cut deep, but I forced myself to hold her gaze. "They’re already being punished. All of us are. Every day we live under his shadow, every ti we bow our heads, every ti we flinch when his na is spoken. That’s punishnt. What difference does it make if it’s official or not?"
Elara wrapped her arms around herself, rocking slightly. Her voice was a whisper of terror. "If we try and fail, they’ll hang us in front of the others. They’ll make examples of us. That’s what they do."
"Then we won’t fail," I said quickly, though my heart twisted at the truth of her words. I slid closer, lowering my voice so only the two of them could hear. "I’ve thought about it. There are ways. We know the pack house better than anyone we clean its halls, we serve its tables. We know when the guards change shifts, when the kitchens are empty, when the outer gates are watched lightly. If we wait for the right night, we can slip out."
Joan’s brush slipped from her hand, clattering against the floor. Her jaw tightened. "And go where, Ellie? Out there are rogues, hunters, packs that won’t take us in. Ogas with no rank, no protection we’re nothing to them. Do you want to starve in the woods? Or be picked apart by wild wolves?"
I leaned in until my forehead almost touched hers, my eyes burning with unshed tears. "I’d rather take my chances with the woods than rot in this place another day." My voice broke on the last words. "At least out there we’d have a choice. Here, we have nothing."
Elara sniffled, pressing her sleeve to her eyes. "I’m scared," she whispered. "So scared."
"So am I," I admitted, my throat tightening. "But fear won’t save us. Running might."
The three of us sat in silence for a mont, surrounded by the muffled sounds of the other ogas. Soone laughed softly at a joke near the hearth. A baby whimpered in the corner where one of the older won rocked him. Life went on, as it always did, quiet and small, bound by the walls of the pack house.
I reached out and took both their hands, one in each of mine. "Please," I whispered. "Co with . Don’t let do this alone."
Joan’s lips pressed into a thin line. She stared down at our joined hands, her brows furrowed. "We’ll think about it," she said finally, her voice low and trembling.
It wasn’t the answer I wanted, but it was better than refusal.
I squeezed their hands once, firmly, then let go. "Think quickly," I whispered. "We may not have much ti."
The fire in the next room popped loudly, and the sound made all three of us flinch. My eyes flicked to the door again, half-expecting to see him standing there, smirking as if he had heard every word.
But the doorway was empty.
Still, I couldn’t shake the crawling sensation down my spine, as though his shadow had already seeped into the walls, listening, waiting.
The oga’s quarter Alta’s feel different at night, By day, the oga quarters buzzed with the clatter of dishes, the shuffle of feet, the constant chatter that filled every corner of the pack house. But at night, once the last chores were done and the doors were locked from the outside, silence pressed down on us like a blanket.
I lay on my thin mattress, staring at the ceiling above . The paint was cracked, shadows from the bare bulb in the hallway cutting jagged shapes across the plaster. Around , the others were asleep at least, most of them. Gentle snores rose and fell like waves. Soone muttered in their dreams. The rustle of sheets filled the room every now and then.
But beneath it all was that hum of dread. The kind that made you wonder if silence could listen.
I rolled onto my side. Across the narrow gap between bunks, Joan’s eyes glead faintly in the dark. She was awake too, waiting. On the bed just beyond hers, Elara clutched her blanket up to her chin, eyes wide open.
I exhaled slowly, the sound barely a breath. "Now," I mouthed.
Joan gave the slightest nod. Elara hesitated, then shifted onto her side so her back was to the room. To anyone who might be watching, it would look like she’d finally drifted off.
My pulse thudded in my ears as I pushed myself up onto one elbow. The dorm was long and narrow, lined with bunks on both sides. Twenty ogas slept here, shoulder to shoulder, packed tight like supplies in a storeroom. Every whisper risked soone overhearing. Every whisper risked everything. Still, I leaned closer. My voice was a thread of sound. "We have to start."
Joan propped herself up too, her dark hair falling into her face. Her whisper was rough. "Do you really an it, Ellie? We talk about it, and it feels impossible. But if we plan... it ans we’ll actually try."
"Yes," I said. My throat ached from how hard I was swallowing. "I an it."
Elara whimpered softly, muffled by her blanket. "We’ll die if we try."
"We’ll die if we don’t," I shot back, sharper than I ant. I softened my voice. "Listen. If he brings back into his wing again, if he keeps—" My words caught. I forced them out. "I won’t survive. You know that. I can’t. He’ll break ."
Joan’s hand slipped across the gap between our beds, squeezing mine. It was small, but it grounded .
"Alright," she said after a long silence. "Then we plan."
The room around us seed to lean in, as if the walls themselves wanted to hear. I half expected the Psycho Alpha’s voice to whisper through the cracks, mocking . Pathetic little mice, squeaking in the dark.
I shook the thought away and forced myself to focus.
"There are only a few ways out of the pack house," I whispered. "The main doors are locked at night, and there are guards. The windows in here are nailed shut. But I’ve been paying attention. There are weak points."
Elara peeked over her blanket, eyes wide as coins. "Weak points?"
"The laundry chute," I said. "It leads down to the basent, and from there, the workers carry baskets out the back entrance. If we could hide in the baskets-"
Joan shook her head imdiately. "Too many eyes in the basent. Too many scents. We’d be found before we even reached the door."
"Then the kitchen," I pressed. "Supplies co in through the back dock. If we wait until a delivery-"
"Sa problem," Joan cut in. "And the kitchen staff are nosy. They’d notice three ogas vanishing."
My jaw clenched. She was right, but I couldn’t let the hopelessness sink in. Not now. "Then the outer wall," I whispered. "It’s high, but I’ve seen the patrols. There are gaps, tis when the guards aren’t watching as closely. If we could climb-"
Elara let out a strangled sound. "Climb? Ellie, the wall’s lined with silver spikes. Even if we made it over, the patrols outside.
Her panic rose, and I reached out, gripping her wrist. "Elara. Listen to . Nothing will be easy. But we have to try. We can’t stay here forever. Don’t you want to breathe without fear?"
Her lower lip trembled. "Yes. But..
Joan raised a hand, silencing her. "What about the tunnels?" she asked.
I blinked. "Tunnels?"
Her eyes darted to the floor, as if she was afraid the wood might betray her words. "Old tunnels, from when the pack house was first built. They were supposed to be escape routes in case of enemy attack. Most of them were sealed, but..." She leaned closer. "I heard the older ogas talking once. So of them aren’t. The walls down in the storage cellars behind the wine racks. There might still be a way out."
Elara’s eyes went wider still. "That’s just a story."
"Maybe," Joan said. "But maybe not. And if it’s true, no one will expect us to use it."
My breath caught. The thought of dark tunnels winding beneath the house sent a shiver through , but it was hope. Real hope.
"We have to find them," I whispered fiercely. "If they’re real, it could be our way."
Joan nodded slowly. "But we’ll have to search carefully. Quietly. If anyone sees us wandering the cellars, they’ll know sothing’s wrong."
A floorboard creaked at the far end of the dorm.
All three of us froze, hearts in our throats.
I could see the shadow of soone turning in their sleep, a blanket rustling. A low cough broke the silence, then quiet again.
We didn’t move for a full minute, our breaths shallow and uneven.
Finally, I whispered, "Tomorrow. We’ll go tomorrow. We’ll find an excuse to get to the storage cellars. We’ll look for those tunnels."
Joan nodded once, her grip on my hand firm.
Elara pulled her blanket higher, whispering so softly I barely heard it. "And if he finds out before then?"
I swallowed hard, the Psycho Alpha’s smirk flashing in my mind. His voice slid into my thoughts like oil: Run, little rabbit. I’ll always catch you.
I squeezed my eyes shut. "Then we pray," I whispered.
The three of us lay back slowly, pretending to settle into sleep. But I knew none of us would close our eyes that night. Every sound beca a threat, every shadow a warning.
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