Sarah pov
How could I have been so careless? The thought of that insufferable woman still trapped in the warehouse gnawed at my insides. I never anticipated Alpha Ethan would drop by unannounced. All I ever wished for was to rid myself of her, to cast her away into the depths of oblivion where she could fade into nothingness. My anxiety spiraled as I paced my room, each step echoing my mounting dread. My heart raced wildly, a frantic drumbeat of anticipation and fear.
Then, I heard it-a hushed murmur creeping from my doorstep.
I froze, every nerve in my body on high alert as the whispers intensified. My mind was a whirlwind, still grappling with the implications of Alpha Ethan’s surprise visit and the potential fallout of my negligence. My heart thudded violently against my ribcage, as if desperate to escape the turmoil within.
Abruptly, the whispering ceased. An eerie silence enveloped me, thick with the weight of unspoken fears. I inhaled deeply, trying to steady my racing thoughts. Who could be out there? What did they want from me?
With trepidation, I approached the door, my hand quaking as it reached for the doorknob. The wood creaked ominously as I pulled it open, revealing a figure cloaked in shadows.
“Who goes there?” I demanded, striving to project a courage I didn’t feel.
“We’re sorry, ma’am Sarah, we were just leaving,” a voice, distinctly feminist, replied. As I opened the door wider, the faces of two pack cleaners came into view, their expressions a mix of concern and curiosity.
I fixed my gaze on the two pack cleaners, their sheepish demeanor a jarring contrast to the intimidating presence they typically carried. Their arrival sent a chill coursing through me, a stark reminder of the pack’s intricate and often dark dynamics.
“Bring me liquor,” I reiterated, irritation threading through my tone as I stepped aside, granting them entry.
Marcus, the larger of the two, nodded quickly, his eyes wide. “Of course, ma’am.”
As they shuffled into my room, I slammed the door behind them, the sound reverberating ominously in the heavy silence. Their eyes flitted around the space, deliberately avoiding mine, and I sensed they were here for more than just a simple drink.
“What do you want?” I snapped, my patience fraying at the edges.
The second cleaner, a slight woman, finally spoke up. “We were instructed to… clean the warehouse.”
A jolt of panic shot through me. Alpha Ethan’s enforcers must have caught wind of the woman’s presence.
“And?” I pressed, narrowing my eyes, my heart racing.
She hesitated, the weight of her words hanging in the air. “We found nothing. No signs of… anyone.”
Relief and confusion tangled within me. How could she have vanished without a trace?
“Who ordered you to clean the warehouse?” I demanded, my mind racing with possibilities.
Marcus shifted uncomfortably, his voice barely above a whisper. “Alpha Ethan’s orders. He suspects… something is being concealed.”
I scoffed, attempting to mask my unease. “Absurd. Why would anyone hide anything from Alpha Ethan?”
The woman’s gaze met mine for a fleeting moment, and in that instant, I caught a flicker of understanding. Did she sense the truth lurking beneath the surface?
The atmosphere shifted dramatically as Marcus burst back into the room, a bottle of whiskey clutched in one hand and two glasses in the other. He poured a hefty measure into my glass, and without hesitation, I tossed it back, the fiery liquid igniting a trail of warmth that surged through me.
As the heat enveloped me, I turned my gaze toward the cleaners, my mind racing with possibilities and suspicions.
“You didn’t witness anything, did you?” I asked, my tone low and measured, each word dripping with urgency.
The cleaner’s eyes met mine, and in that moment, an unspoken agreement seemed to crystallize between us, a fragile bond forged in secrecy.
“No, ma’am,” Marcus asserted, his voice steady and unwavering. “We didn’t see a thing.”
They left in a hurry, their footsteps echoing in the silence, but their swift exit only deepened the mystery swirling in my mind. Who had taken the woman? What was their motive?
With the whiskey dulling my nerves, I found myself pacing again, the walls of the room closing in, shadows creeping closer, suffocating me with their presence.
Then, a soft scratching sound at the window jolted me from my thoughts. I whirled around, adrenaline surging through my veins.
There, pressed against the glass, was a small piece of paper, the hurried scrawl of a message barely visible in the dim light: