CHAPTER 107: CHAPTER 107

when I stepped back into the omegas’ quarters. My steps felt heavier than usual, weighted with exhaustion and the lingering echoes of Alpha Zach’s presence from the clinic. Mira’s orders still echoed in my head: "If the Alpha calls for you again, go immediately." But I had no choice now; I had to face the others.

The moment I crossed the threshold, I noticed it. Silence.

A silence so sharp it cut through the morning air like ice.

The omegas, who had been chatting just minutes ago, froze mid-conversation. Their heads turned slightly, eyes darting to me with a mix of curiosity and dread. No one stepped forward. No one greeted me. The energy in the room shifted, heavy, almost suffocating.

I swallowed hard.

"Good morning," I said, voice quiet, cautious.

No response.

I took another step, and whispers began low, careful, as if speaking too loud might summon a storm.

"They say... she’s the one the Alpha nearly killed the doctor for."

"Wildflower..." someone murmured, almost a hiss. "Did you see how he looked at her?"

I clenched my fists, gripping the edges of the small bag I carried from the clinic. Each whisper landed on me like a physical blow. Cursed. Dangerous. Untouchable.

I wanted to shout, to tell them they didn’t understand, that I was no one special, but the words stuck in my throat. Even now, after all the fear and confusion, I felt it the invisible tether that bound me to him.

The omegas shuffled away from me, forming a cautious circle that left a wide space around me. Even those I considered friends avoided eye contact. Their fear was palpable. I could taste it in the air, bitter and sharp.

I tried to steady my breathing.

"Don’t—" I began, but stopped myself. There was nothing I could say that would reach them. Nothing could explain the weight of being noticed by him, the way the world changed in his presence.

I moved past them, silently making my way to my usual corner of the room. My body ached not just from the fever I’d fought, but from the isolation, the sudden realization that my survival had painted a target on my back.

"Did you hear?" one omega whispered, barely audible. "She’s different now. The Alpha’s shadow follows her."

Different. His shadow.

I closed my eyes for a moment, feeling the knot tighten in my chest. I wanted to be invisible. I wanted to be normal. But the truth was undeniable. Wherever I went, his presence clung to me like smoke, unseen yet impossible to escape.

Even as I sat, trying to focus on a book I didn’t want to read, I could feel their eyes on me. Not just watching but judging, fearing, measuring.

It wasn’t just curiosity. It was fear.

And deep down, I realized it wasn’t entirely about me. It was about him.

They feared what he might do to anyone who crossed me or to anyone who dared to come too close.

The door creaked open, and my heart skipped a beat. I froze, glancing toward it. But it wasn’t him. Just a nurse delivering the morning meal. She left quickly, avoiding my gaze, muttering something about orders.

Orders. Always orders. Always him.

I ate slowly, mechanically, every bite tasting like ash. The whispers didn’t stop, the stares didn’t fade. I felt a hollow weight pressing on me, a sensation I’d never known before: power wrapped in terror, admiration tangled with dread. And I hated it.

When the omegas left for the training grounds, they didn’t invite me to join. They left a wide berth around me, a silent acknowledgment that I no longer belonged to their world.

I stayed behind, staring out the small window of the quarters. Wolves ran across the field, but I felt no urge to move. I felt trapped in a bubble of tension, watched even when no one was looking.

And I knew he would come.

Alpha Zach always came when he needed to see me. Always.

I shivered, half from fear, half from anticipation. I hated myself for the way my body reacted to him, for the subtle tightening in my chest, for the restless pulse that spiked whenever I imagined him appearing in the doorway.

Hours crawled by. The sun climbed higher. Shadows stretched across the room. I counted them obsessively, as if that could prepare me for him.

And then A sudden knock. Sharp. Deliberate.

My heart leapt into my throat.

I knew that knock. Always knew it.

"Enter," I whispered, though my voice trembled.

The door opened slowly.

He didn’t announce himself. He didn’t smile. He simply stepped inside, eyes sweeping the room like a predator marking its territory. The omegas’ quarters felt smaller, the air thicker, the light dimmer.

"Sit," he said, voice low. Commanding.

I obeyed, though my stomach twisted into knots.

He moved closer, circling me, gaze flicking to the marks left by the IV and the fever. "You’re fragile," he said, almost contemplative. "And yet... you survive."

I swallowed, trying to steady my trembling hands. "I... I’m fine," I whispered, though my body betrayed me.

His gray eyes softened for the barest fraction of a second enough to make my chest ache but then the storm returned.

"You should never be left alone," he murmured. "Not in their hands. Not ever again."

I didn’t know whether to feel safe or terrified.

He leaned closer, his presence pressing against me. "The pack sees you differently now," he said. "And so should you."

I swallowed hard. "I don’t want to be different—"

His hand, cold yet firm, brushed against mine. "You are, whether you like it or not. And they will learn it. Whether through fear or through respect they will know your place."

The room was silent, my chest pounding, every nerve on fire.

I realized, with a jolt that made me shiver: I was alone in the middle of a storm I didn’t understand.

And yet I didn’t want to be anywhere else.

The moment the door clicked shut behind him, I exhaled so hard I thought my lungs would collapse. The quiet of the room felt hollow, echoing with the ghost of his presence.

I curled slightly into myself, hugging my arms across my chest, trying to make sense of the heat in my cheeks and the cold fear still clutching my stomach. My hands shook, and I felt absurdly small like all the weight of the pack’s eyes had landed squarely on me.

Then, gentle voices cut through the silence.

"Ellie..."

I looked up. Elara and Joan stood at the edge of the room, hesitant, eyes full of concern. Elara’s hand rested lightly on Joan’s shoulder, the smallest gesture of solidarity, and my chest clenched at the sight.

"You okay?" Joan asked softly, stepping closer. "I... we were so worried. We didn’t know what he would do."

I shook my head, feeling tears prick the corners of my eyes. "I—I don’t know," I admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "Everything... it’s too much."

Elara knelt beside me, careful not to invade the fragile space I’d carved for myself. "I know," she murmured. "We saw how he... how he was. You didn’t deserve that."

I swallowed, trying to fight back the surge of emotion threatening to break free. "I... I can’t stop thinking about what he said... the way he... watches me."

Joan knelt on my other side, placing a hand lightly over mine. "He scares everyone," she said softly, "but that doesn’t mean you’re alone. You have us."

Her words felt like a warm shield against the cold left behind by his presence. I leaned slightly into them, letting myself feel something I hadn’t allowed since the clinic the comfort of knowing I wasn’t entirely alone.

Elara’s voice was quiet, almost a whisper against my ear. "You’re stronger than they think. Stronger than you think. He might change how everyone sees you, but that doesn’t change who you are inside."

I nodded, unable to speak. My hands were clammy, but the steady warmth of theirs grounding me made the panic recede just slightly.

Joan added, "We’ll protect each other. Even if he’s... always watching, we’re still here. We’ll get through this together."

For the first time since I returned from the clinic, I let myself exhale fully. My chest felt a little lighter, even if only for a moment. His shadow still loomed, a weight I could not escape, but for now... I had them. I had Elara and Joan. And in the midst of fear, that mattered more than anything. They are the only ones keeping me sane. But I still have to make the psycho love me.

I hadn’t realized how exhausted I was until I sank fully into the warmth of their presence. Elara’s hand rubbed small circles along my shoulder, quiet and reassuring, while Joan’s lap became an unexpected anchor beneath my head.

"I—can I..." I whispered, barely audible. My voice trailed off, unsure if I had permission to be so weak.

Joan looked down at me, a faint, gentle smile tugging at her lips. "Of course," she said softly. "Rest. Let it out. You’ve been through too much."

I hesitated for only a heartbeat before letting my body surrender. My head rested on her lap, and the simple weight of her legs beneath me, steady and grounding, made the tight coil of fear inside my chest loosen just a little. Elara shifted closer, draping an arm across my back, keeping me snug between them.

The room smelled faintly of rain-washed air and the lingering antiseptic from the clinic, but it felt safe here, wrapped in their care. My eyelids grew heavy, my limbs slackening, and for the first time in hours, I let myself breathe without fear.

"Sleep," Joan whispered, her hand brushing through my hair. "I’ve got you."

The words, quiet and unwavering, felt like a balm. My heart, still restless from the morning’s tension and the weight of his shadow, began to slow. I listened to their gentle murmurs, their quiet encouragements, the soft comfort of human presence, and the storm inside me softened.

Before I realized it, I was gone—sleep claiming me in the safety of Joan’s lap, cocooned by Elara and Joan’s steady warmth.

Even in sleep, though, his presence lingered, like a shadow at the edge of my mind—but for now, I allowed myself a moment of peace.