The morning came heavy, pressing against my chest like a weight.
I woke up before dawn again not because I wanted to, but because my body had forgotten what peace felt like. The quiet was too sharp, the kind that carved into you until you moved just to stop hearing it.
My dreams had been strange. Shadows whispering my name, the faint hum of a voice that sounded like him low, taunting, half amusement, half warning. When I opened my eyes, my heart was already racing.
The others were still asleep in the omega’s quarters. Their soft breathing filled the room, but I couldn’t join them in that fragile peace. I got up quietly, wrapped my shawl around my shoulders, and slipped out before anyone noticed.
The hallways were cold. The pack house always felt colder in the morning as if the walls themselves were afraid to wake. I walked quickly toward the kitchen, my steps soft but hurried.
Every morning, it was the same. The same pot, the same smell of smoke, the same empty feeling in my chest. I was supposed to cook for him — Alpha Zach, the man everyone whispered about but no one dared to look at for too long.
I didn’t even know why I still tried. He’d been gone since yesterday. He hadn’t eaten the food I made then either. But I couldn’t stop myself.
Maybe it was something worse that hopeless hope that if I kept doing what I was supposed to, he might spare me his madness when he returned. I filled the pot with water and waited for it to boil. The fire hissed quietly. My reflection trembled in the metal surface pale face, dull eyes, lips pressed tight. I looked like a ghost haunting the Alpha’s kitchen.
When the steam rose, I added the noodles. They twisted and danced in the bubbling water, softening into their familiar shape. The smell filled the air warm, simple, human. For a fleeting second, I could almost pretend I was back in my old life, in my small apartment after a long shift, cooking something easy before falling asleep in front of the TV.
But that world was gone.
This one was sharp, cruel, and full of watching eyes.
By the time I finished, the sun had risen a little. I placed the noodles in a bowl, arranged it neatly on the tray, and wiped my hands. My heart was beating too fast. The corridor leading to the Alpha’s quarter was dim, the lamps flickering with every step I took. Each sound seemed to echo the soft clatter of the tray, the brush of my dress against the wall, the creak of the floor beneath my shoes.
When I reached the Alpha’s door, I hesitated. Something felt off.
I pressed my ear against the wood. Silence. Not even breathing. I knocked lightly.
No answer. I waited. Still nothing. Slowly, I pushed the door open. The room was empty. The fire from last night had died, leaving only the faint scent of ashes. The chair where he usually sat was untouched, the bed unrumpled. The heavy curtains were still drawn shut, but a thin beam of sunlight slipped through a tear, cutting across the cold air. He wasn’t here. Again. I walked in carefully, balancing the tray in my hands. The sound of my footsteps echoed too loudly in the silence. I set the bowl down on the table where he always ate, my fingers brushing over the smooth surface. It was cold. Everything was cold.
"Where are you..." I murmured under my breath, barely realizing I’d said it aloud.
The room gave no answer.
Still, the unease in me refused to fade. I turned in a slow circle, my eyes catching on every shadow the corner near the bed, the dark space beneath the table, the half-open closet door. Each one felt alive somehow, like it was waiting for me to look away.
My skin prickled. I went to the window and pulled the curtain slightly aside. The outside courtyard was empty, but I could hear faint movement somewhere far away maybe guards, maybe nothing.
And yet, I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone had just been here. That if I’d come a few minutes earlier, I would’ve found him sitting there, watching me with that unreadable look he always wore.
I turned back toward the table and froze. The bowl of noodles I’d set down was still there but the spoon was gone. I blinked.
No. That couldn’t be right. I had placed the spoon right beside it. I remembered the sound it made when it touched the tray.
I looked around. My pulse quickened. The spoon was lying on the chair. He’d been here. Not long ago. Maybe only minutes before I came in.
My breath came shallow and fast. I backed away, my eyes darting around the room. The air felt wrong heavy, charged. Like a presence that lingered even when unseen.
"Alpha Zach...?" My voice was small, trembling.
Nothing. I moved toward the door, my hand hovering over the handle, ready to leave but then I stopped. Something inside me whispered, He’s watching. I didn’t know from where maybe the hallway, maybe some unseen space between the walls. But I could feel him, the way you could feel a storm before it broke.
My fingers trembled against the door handle. I forced a small, broken laugh. "You’re losing your mind, Ellie," I whispered to myself. "You’re imagining things again."
The silence answered me.
I turned the handle and slipped out, closing the door softly behind me. The moment it shut, I felt a strange rush of air as if the room exhaled after holding its breath.
I hurried down the corridor, my steps quick and uneven. The tray rattled in my hands. Every few seconds, I looked over my shoulder, half-expecting him to appear that tall, shadowed figure with eyes too sharp and a smile too quiet. But no one came.
By the time I reached the end of the hallway, my heart was pounding so hard it hurt. I stopped, pressing a hand against my chest to steady myself.
"Just... breathe," I whispered. "He’s not here. You’re safe."
But the word safe felt like a lie in this place.
When I finally returned to the kitchen, the fire had died down. I set the tray on the counter and stared at the cold bowl. For a long time, I didn’t move. I just stood there, staring, as though the noodles themselves held some kind of answer.
He’d taken the spoon. That single, simple thing meant something I didn’t know what, but I could feel it. Maybe a warning. Maybe a message.
Or maybe, just a reminder that no matter where I went, he would always know.
Always be one step ahead. The entire day passed like a slow-burning nightmare.
The moment I realized Alpha Zach had left again without even touching the breakfast I prepared, my chest tightened painfully. The noodles had gone cold on the tray, the steam long faded. I just stood there in his empty room, clutching the serving tray with trembling fingers, staring at the spot where he should’ve been.
It was as though the walls themselves were mocking me with silence.
I had woken up early before the other omegas even stirred hoping that if I made his favorite meal, maybe, just maybe, he would look at me differently. Maybe he’d stop seeing me as a burden or an annoyance. But by the time I returned from the kitchen, he was gone again.
I forced myself to clean the Alpha’s quarter, one corner at a time, just to keep from thinking. The silence pressed down on me like a weight. I dusted the bookshelves that no one ever touched. I folded his cloaks, arranged his boots, and even polished the silver handle of his bedroom door. But no matter what I did, my heart refused to calm down. It wasn’t just worry. It was something darker. The feeling of being watched.
Even with no one there, I could feel it like invisible eyes tracing every step I took, every breath I drew. The same feeling I’d had the night before, when I swore I heard his inner voice whispering threats inside my head.
"Break her legs," that voice had said.
I shivered violently just remembering it.
It made no sense. How could I hear what was inside his mind? How could I feel what he was thinking when he didn’t even speak? It had to be the trauma, the fear messing with my head. That was what I kept telling myself all day long.
But as the sun began to sink and shadows stretched across the floor, I couldn’t shake off the chill crawling up my spine.
The house was eerily quiet except for the crackle of the fireplace. I sat on the floor near the door, hugging my knees to my chest. The tray of untouched noodles still sat on the table, cold and uninviting. I was just about to give up and return to the omegas’ quarter when I heard it. The sound of heavy footsteps outside.
They were steady, powerful, and deliberate. The air changed with every step, thickening with a raw, dangerous energy that sent my instincts into panic. My throat went dry. He was back. Follow current novels on 𝚗𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚕·𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚎·𝚗𝚎𝚝
Alpha Zach. The moment the door opened, the air in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.
He stood in the doorway, his tall frame casting a long shadow that swallowed the light. His hair was disheveled, his black coat soaked in dew or maybe blood I couldn’t tell. His sharp eyes glowed faintly in the dim light, reflecting something wild and unreadable. I froze completely.
For a long moment, he didn’t move. He just stood there, staring past me like I didn’t exist. Then, without saying a single word, he brushed past me and walked straight into his room, slamming the door shut behind him.
I flinched so hard that the back of my head hit the wall. My heart was racing so fast I thought it might burst.
What happened to him?
Did I do something wrong again?