Alethea
Beads of sweat cling to my face, and my body trembles with fear. I can’t stop shaking.
Without thinking, I scooted away from where I was lying, as if the bed itself had somehow trapped me in that nightmare.
But was it just a nightmare?
No, It felt too real.
I bury my face in my hands, my breath coming in short, quick bursts. My mind tries to make sense of the dream, but it’s like holding sand in my palm. Every time I think I’m close to understanding, it slips right through.
The she-wolf’s words echo loudly in my head.
“You are the last of our kind… You have to stop him.”
But how am I supposed to stop someone like Alpha Craig? I don’t even know what he truly wants, aside from my blood.
I shut my eyes tightly, desperate to fall back into that dream, to get more answers.
Maybe if I sleep again, I’ll see her, and maybe this time she’ll tell me what I need to do to survive.
But sleep won’t come.
My mind feels empty like someone wiped it clean the moment I woke up.
Frustrated, I sit still, trying to recall every detail. The glowing wolves. The cracks in the earth. The red light. The voice. The pain. The scent of smoke and blood.
And her.
Even if my mind doesn’t understand yet, I know I’m meant for something more. I know my instincts will guide me.
With a heavy breath, I slide out of bed and begin to strip off my clothes. My skin feels sticky with sweat, and my tight muscles.
I step into the bathroom and turn on the shower.
The cold water falls on me, rushing over my head, my shoulders, and down my back.
I close my eyes and let the water flow.
I can see Asher’s worried face as he holds Declan close in his arms. He looks completely lost.
Declan tilts his head up and says something to him, probably a question.
For Declan’s sake, Asher forces a small smile, one that barely reaches his eyes, and answers him.
Whatever he says makes Declan’s face light up with a little joy, and that warms my chest-if only for a moment.
Selena watches them quietly. She doesn’t speak, just stands there like she’s reading Asher’s soul through his eyes.
Then, gently, she steps forward and takes Declan from his arms. I guess Liam and Ryder are waiting for her. Probably to plan.
Asher reaches into his coat and pulls out something, It’s a scroll.
He spreads it on his desk, and soon Liam and Ryder are leaning in, pointing at spots, talking in hushed tones I can’t make out.
But suddenly, my eyes shoot open and I gasp.
They’re looking for me.
Hope sparks in my chest. It’s not much, but it’s something. Still, I can’t rely on just that.
I need to plan my own escape.
The thought gives me a sense of purpose. I rush to turn off the shower, quickly wrap a towel around myself, and step back into the room.
That’s when I spot a clean T-shirt and a pair of shorts folded neatly on the edge of the bed.
Do I have a choice? So I pull them on.
Just as I finish dressing, there’s a soft knock at the door.
My heart leaps.
Alice.
But when I open the door, my smile fades.
It’s not her.
Standing there is a young boy, probably around fifteen. He has messy blond hair, soft brown eyes, and a pale, narrow face with high cheekbones. He is slim, like someone who’s grown too fast without enough food.
“H-Hi,” he says nervously, holding up a tray of food. “I was asked to bring this to you.”
I glance down at the tray, then back at him.
“Thank you,” I say softly, taking it from his trembling hands.
I set the tray on the table, but I’m not in the mood to eat.
I can tell he wants to say something. He keeps glancing at the door behind him like he’s afraid someone’s going to burst in at any second.
I want to ask about Alice, why she didn’t come, where she is.
But something holds me back.
I watch as the boy steps out, but his eyes never leave mine until the door closes behind him. Only then do I let out a shaky breath. It feels like I can finally breathe again.
I glance at the tray of food, but my stomach turns just looking at it. I’m not hungry-how can I be? But something small and white catches my eye, tucked just under the corner of the plate. My heart skips.
I rush toward it and carefully pull it out. It’s a folded piece of paper. My fingers tremble as I open it.
There, in hurried, crooked handwriting, are three simple words:
“Please help us.”
My eyebrows pull together in confusion. Help them? Why do these people think I can save them? I shake my head slowly. I don’t feel powerful. I feel trapped just like they are.
With a sigh, I toss the note under the pillow and crawl back into bed. I curl into myself, knees pulled close to my chest. Xena is unusually quiet.
“Call me when you need me,” she says gently before curling up in the back of my mind.
I don’t know how long I sleep. Maybe too long. Maybe not long enough. The exhaustion of everything and confusion pulls me into a deep, empty rest. I think I want the world to just pause for a while, so I don’t have to feel so much all at once.
But peace doesn’t last.
Suddenly, there’s a loud bang on the door.
My eyes snap open.
Before I can even move, the door slams open. Two large men storm in, their faces hard.
My heart races like it’s trying to escape my chest. I scramble back, pressing my back against the headboard, my hands clutching the blanket like it can somehow protect me.
Every part of me trembles-legs, arms, even my lips. I want to scream, but no sound comes out.
Before I can react, one of them grabs me by the leg and starts dragging me off the bed.
I thrash wildly, kicking with my free leg, desperate to break free. My heel catches his arm and I manage to yank my leg out of his grip.
The door is wide open. My instincts scream one thing: Run.
I scramble to get up, but before I can take a step, a heavy hand slams into the side of my head. I stumble onto the bed, stars dancing in my vision.
But I don’t stay down.
Not now.
I shoot up again, my breath ragged, my mind racing. I look around for anything to defend myself. And then I remember.
The knife.
Last night, I tucked it into the pillow just in case.
While the second man grabs at my leg again, I stretch my arm under the pillow and my fingers wrap around the cold, familiar handle.
He doesn’t see it coming.
With all the strength I have left, I stab the knife into his arm.
He howls in pain, stumbling back and clutching the wound. The other man freezes for a second, just long enough for me to notice something strange, they’re being careful. Be careful not to hurt me too badly.
That’s their mistake.
The second one charges at me, raising his hand high. He slaps me hard across the face. Pain explodes in my head. My ears ring, and my vision blurs, but I refuse to go down.
I spit out blood, then drive my knee into his groin with everything I’ve got.
He screams.
Both of them are down, one howling, the other doubled over.
“Pussy,” I hiss, panting, and bolt toward the open door.
I don’t stop to think.
My Bare feet pound against cold stone floors; I race through the hall, my breath sharp in my throat.
I hear angry voices, barking orders behind me.
“Get her!”
I turn a sharp corner, not even sure where I’m going. But I can’t stop.
Not until I find a way out.
Just when I started to believe I had a chance-he came out of nowhere.
In a blink, I feel strong arms scoop me up like I weigh nothing. I gasp, flailing in his grip, but it’s useless. He holds me like steel.
Panic floods me. I thrash with everything I’ve got, as I slam my fists against his back, hard again and again.
Who the hell is this man?
I hit him so hard I think I bruised my own hand, but he moved like a ghost.
Then, without a word, he slams me down against something cold and hard.
A stake.
My heart nearly stops.
No. No. No.
My chest rises and falls rapidly, breath coming in shallow gasps. I feel the cold bite of metal against my skin, the pressure of restraints closing around my wrists.
“This can’t be it,” I whisper to myself, my voice barely holding steady. “This can’t be how I go.”
But even as fear coils tight in my stomach, there’s a fire rising in me.
I won’t back down.
If this is my end, I’m dragging someone with me.