CHAPTER 105: CHAPTER 105

The first thing I felt was the weight in the air. Heavy. Suffocating.

Like the whole room was holding its breath. Then I opened my eyes.

Light filtered in through the blinds, thin and pale, slicing across white walls. The scent of antiseptic clung to everything sharp, cold, clean but it couldn’t mask the other scent that crawled beneath my skin. His scent.

My heart lurched as my vision cleared. The pack doctor, Mira, stood at the foot of my bed, her face drained of color. Two nurses hovered behind her, trembling so badly that the metal tray one of them held clattered against the floor.

And in the far corner of the room, half hidden in shadow, stood Alpha Zach.

He wasn’t moving. Just standing there, arms folded, watching. His presence filled the room the way thunder filled the sky before a storm silent, charged, inevitable.

For a heartbeat, I thought I was still dreaming.

But then Mira spoke, and the tremor in her voice made the nightmare real.

"Her fever... it’s gone down, Alpha. She’s stable now. I–I promise."

No one breathed. No one dared.

He didn’t answer immediately. His head tilted slightly, his eyes cutting through the air and pinning Mira like a knife to the wall. "You promise?" His voice was low, even, too calm. That kind of calm that meant danger.

Mira swallowed hard. "Y–Yes, Alpha. I’ll... I’ll continue monitoring her. I swear."

Something in his jaw tightened. Then his voice dropped lower, rougher, darker.

"Good. Because if she doesn’t recover—"

He took a step forward, and even from my bed I could feel the air tremble.

"I’ll break your neck myself."

The words were soft, almost conversational, but the way he said them made my blood turn to ice.

The nurses whimpered. Mira bowed her head so fast I thought she might faint. "Understood, Alpha."

He didn’t look at her again. His gaze shifted straight to me. And that was worse.

For a long, terrible moment, neither of us spoke. My throat went dry, my hands clutching the thin sheet like it could protect me from him. He didn’t move closer, but his eyes they did. They crawled over me, tracing the hollow of my throat, the faint tremor of my hands, the pulse fluttering wildly beneath my skin.

I wanted to look away, but couldn’t.

Then it came that whisper that didn’t belong to the air.

She’s awake fragile little thing. Still breathing.

I froze. That voice again. Inside my head. His thoughts.

He didn’t know I could hear him. He didn’t know how his quietest thoughts slipped past the walls of my mind like smoke.

Why does it make me angry that she looks afraid?

My breath hitched. He was angry but not at me. At something else, something he couldn’t name.

I wanted to speak, to ask him to leave, to stop looking at me like that, but my voice refused to obey.

Mira cleared her throat carefully. "Alpha... perhaps it would be best if you allowed her to rest now. The sedative—"

He turned his head sharply, and she stopped mid-sentence.

"I’ll decide when she rests."

Then his gaze returned to me.

"Can you sit up?"

It wasn’t a question. It was a command.

My body moved before my brain caught up. I pushed myself upright, every muscle protesting. The blanket slid down my shoulders, and the sudden rush of cool air made me shiver.

He took a slow step forward. The nurses shrank back. Mira looked like she wanted to melt into the floor.

When he reached the side of my bed, the world felt too small.

"Do you remember what happened?" he asked.

I nodded weakly. "F-fever. I... fainted."

He studied my face for a moment, unreadable. His shadow fell across my lap, long and heavy.

"Next time," he said quietly, "you tell someone before you collapse."

It almost sounded like concern — until I heard the thought that followed.

"Inner Voice: Pathetic. Can’t even stay on her feet without falling apart.

The sting of his inner voice cut through me. I lowered my gaze, shame flooding my chest. I shouldn’t have expected anything else.

But then, after a pause, another whisper came softer.

And yet... I carried her anyway.

My heart stopped. He didn’t mean to think that out loud. His hand twitched at his side, as though he felt the echo of something he couldn’t control.

The silence between us stretched thin, tight as wire.

Finally, he turned to Mira. "Make sure she eats. If her fever returns, you’ll inform me directly."

Mira nodded rapidly. "Y-Yes, Alpha. Of course."

He didn’t look back at her. He looked at me one last time, eyes lingering a fraction too long, then walked toward the door.

Before stepping out, his voice brushed the edge of my mind again, that low internal growl that made my skin crawl.

Stay alive, wildflower. I’m not done figuring you out. Then he was gone.

The door shut behind him, and the room exhaled all at once. The nurses nearly collapsed with relief. Mira dropped onto the nearest chair, pressing a hand to her chest.

"Oh, moon above," she whispered. "I thought he was going to kill us all."

I stared at the closed door, my pulse still racing. "He... wouldn’t."

Mira looked at me like I’d said something foolish. "You don’t know him, Ellie. You don’t know what he’s capable of."

But I did.

Or at least, I was beginning to.

He was capable of cruelty, yes but there was something else buried deep in him, something that flickered like lightning behind the clouds. I’d seen it when he carried me here, heard it when he thought I was dying.

Something that sounded like fear.

That night, I couldn’t sleep. The clinic was too quiet. Every creak, every breath sounded like footsteps approaching.

I lay awake staring at the ceiling, my mind a blur of questions I couldn’t ask. Why had he stayed here all night? Why had his voice the one in my head sounded almost... worried?

The memory of his threat to Mira replayed over and over, sharp as a blade. He’d meant it. But beneath the menace, I had caught another tone, one I couldn’t name.

Because if she dies, something inside me might break too.

That whisper had been buried so deep in his mind that I wasn’t sure if I’d imagined it.

I rolled onto my side, pulling the blanket to my chin, my heart aching in a way I couldn’t understand.

Morning came gray and cold. Mira brought me soup again, her hands still trembling slightly from yesterday.

"The Alpha was here before dawn," she murmured. "He didn’t come in this time. Just asked about your condition and left."

I forced a smile. "That sounds... like him."

She gave me a look that wasn’t quite agreement, then left me to rest.

The moment she was gone, I let out a shaky breath. My mind was still haunted by his presence the way his shadow filled every corner, the weight of his voice inside my head.

I wanted to hate him. I should have hated him. But all I could feel was confusion, sharp and dizzying.

Why me? Why this strange, invisible tether between us?

By the third night, my fever was gone. The clinic felt less like a cage and more like a waiting room for something I couldn’t name.

Then, just before dawn, I woke to the sound of footsteps again. Slow. Heavy. Familiar.

The door opened, and he stepped inside. Alpha Zach. He didn’t look at me at first. He walked to the window, stared out at the fog-covered courtyard. His reflection in the glass was a ghost distant, cold, untouchable.

"Are you afraid of me?" he asked quietly, still facing away.

My throat tightened. "Should I be?"

That made him turn. His eyes locked onto mine, unreadable, but his thoughts slipped through anyway.

Always. She should always be afraid.

And then, softer So why do I want her to stay?

The contradiction in his mind hit me like a wave. I clutched the sheets, trying to hide my trembling.

He took a step closer. "You heard what I said to the doctor, didn’t you?"

I nodded faintly.

He tilted his head, studying me. "You think I was cruel."

"I think..." My voice faltered. "You scared them."

His lips twitched not quite a smile. "Good. Fear keeps people alive."

He turned again, as if to leave, then paused at the door.

"Get better soon," he said aloud. "I don’t like weak things."

But the thought that followed the one he didn’t mean to send brushed against my mind, raw and unguarded.

And yet I keep coming back to her.

When he left this time, I didn’t feel relief.

I felt the echo of his presence lingering in the air, the ghost of his voice whispering inside me.

It was terrifying. It was intoxicating.

And it was only the beginning.