CHAPTER 33: CHAPTER 33

The kitchen felt too large, too quiet, with only me and him inside. My hands shook as I held the spoon, staring at the shelves of ingredients left behind by the omegas. Stupid psycho, he didn’t request for noodles today, but what could I possibly cook that wouldn’t kill me if he hated it? And then I remembered. Mac and cheese. A simple dish from my old life. Comfort food. Something so normal, so safe, that just thinking about it for a second made me feel almost human again. I hadn’t made it since I transmigrated into this world. Nobody here even knew it existed. Cheese was rare, pasta almost unheard of. But the kitchen had flour, milk, eggs, butter... everything I needed. And there was cheese stored carefully in the pantry. I licked my dry lips and whispered to myself, If I can do this right, maybe... maybe he’ll like it.

Behind me, I could feel his eyes. Heavy. Cold. Watching every move.

The inner voice whispered, sharp and low:

"Inner voice: She’s stalling. Shaking like a rat cornered by a wolf. Move faster, little omega, before I lose my patience.

I nearly dropped the spoon. Quickly, I lit the stove fire and started mixing the dough for pasta. My hands shook, flour dusting my arms, but muscle memory from my old world guided me. I rolled it thin, cut it into small tubes, and set them to boil in a pot of water.

Butter melted in another pan, and I stirred in flour, milk, and grated cheese until it turned into a creamy sauce. My heart raced. Every time I glanced up, Zack was sitting on a chair, arms resting lazily on the table, his gaze fixed entirely on me. Like a predator watching prey.

"Inner voice: She looks ridiculous, the inner voice hissed. Covered in flour, biting her lip. Fragile little thing. But she’s mine. All mine. Even her clumsy hands.

I stirred faster, my pulse pounding in my ears. The sauce thickened, golden and smooth. I drained the pasta, poured it in, and mixed everything together. The smell of cheese filled the room, rich and warm, wrapping around me like a ghost of my old life. For one fleeting moment, I almost felt safe. But then I remembered who I was cooking for. I placed the steaming dish in front of him on the table, stepping back quickly, my head lowered. My hands were trembling so badly I had to hide them behind my back. The crazy psycho stared at the bowl. The smell filled the room. His brows furrowed slightly, as though he couldn’t quite understand what he was looking at. Finally, he lifted the spoon and took a bite. The silence that followed stretched forever. Then, suddenly, he began eating.

Not slowly. Not carefully. But all at once. Bite after bite, as though the world might end if he didn’t devour it. His jaw worked hard, his throat swallowing quickly, his spoon scraping against the bowl again and again. I there stood frozen, staring in disbelief.

He was eating like a starving wolf. The psycho Alpha, the one everyone feared, the one who whispered of killing his own pack members in his thoughts was shoveling down mac and cheese like a child tasting food for the first time.

And then his inner voice hit me, strong and overwhelming

"Inner voice: Perfect.

I gasped.

"Inner voice: This what is this? What is this magic she put in front of me? Soft, warm, sharp, melting on my tongue. Nothing in this cursed pack has ever tasted like this. Nothing. Only her. Only she could give me this.

My knees nearly gave out.

Because for the first time, his voice wasn’t cruel. It wasn’t spitting hatred or threats. It was praising me.

"Inner voice: Mine, the voice growled possessively. Only mine. She made this for me. She thought of me. She feeds me, fills me, gives me something no one else can. My omega. My Ellie. My little fragile rat who belongs only to me.

My hands clenched in terror.

I didn’t want this. I didn’t want his approval. But the way his mind wrapped around me with those words made me feel like I was being trapped in invisible chains. He scraped the bowl clean, not leaving a single bite. His spoon clattered against the empty dish, and he leaned back, staring at me with burning eyes. I lowered my head immediately, trembling.

"You made this," he said simply.

"Yes, Alpha," I whispered.

"What is it?"

"Mac... and cheese." My voice cracked.

His eyes narrowed slightly. "Mac and cheese."

He repeated the words as though tasting them the way he had tasted the food. Then, slowly, his lips curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile, but close enough to make my stomach drop.

"I want it again," he said.

I swallowed. "Yes, Alpha."

The inner voice growled inside me, vibrating with hunger and obsession.

"Inner voice: Again. Again. Again. I want her to cook for me every day. Only for me. No one else deserves this. No one else deserves her. I’ll kill anyone who tries to taste it. I’ll kill anyone who even looks at her hands while she cooks. Mine. My omega. My cook. My prisoner. Mine.

I shivered violently, my nails digging into my palms. Cooking for him should have been a small relief. But instead, it tied me tighter to him. Crazy psycho i scoffed

He had tasted something new, something only I could give him. And that made me even more trapped than before. Because now, the psycho Alpha didn’t just want me by his side. He wanted me in his kitchen. Feeding his madness forever. What if I add plenty salt to ruin the taste?" No no no. He will strangle me.

Here Alpha, this is the last plate, I said as I handed over the last plate of Mac and cheese in the kitchen.

"Sit. Eat."

The words dropped from Alpha Zach’s lips like sharp stones hitting the floor. His voice was deep, commanding, leaving no space for argument. He was sitting across from me at the long table in the kitchen, his cold eyes locked on me as if daring me to defy him. My stomach twisted. I hadn’t eaten yet, but the thought of sharing food with him sitting at the same table as the psycho Alpha was enough to make me lose my appetite entirely. I wanted to tell him no, but my mouth was dry, my voice stuck in my throat.

Instead, I lowered my head like the obedient omega I had been forced to become and slowly pulled out the chair. The wood scraped against the stone floor, loud and sharp, like a warning bell ringing in my ears.

"Faster," he growled when I hesitated too long.

I quickly sat down, my palms sweating, my heart hammering against my ribs. He had already finished almost all the mac and cheese I’d made earlier, but now there was another bowl placed in front of me, steaming and golden, as if he had planned this all along.

"Eat."

I stared at the food. My fork trembled in my hand. Oh God save me. I forced a small bite into my mouth, chewing slowly. The creamy cheese clung to my tongue, comforting and warm, but the weight of his stare made it taste like ashes. Inside my head, his inner voice echoed loud, sharp, and terrifying.

"Inner voice; Look at her, eating so slowly, like a scared little rabbit. A pathetic, weak omega. Yet she makes food that tastes like heaven. My beautiful toad.

I nearly choked. My fork clattered against the bowl as I coughed loudly, pressing a fist to my mouth. Heat rushed to my face, not from the food but from his words that rang inside my skull.

Beautiful toad?

Did he just call me that?My coughing grew worse, panic bubbling in my chest. I grabbed the glass of water on the table and gulped it down, trying to hide the trembling of my hands.

The crazy leaned back in his chair, tilting his head, eyes narrowing in amusement. "What? Do you think I poisoned it?"

I shook my head quickly, unable to speak.

Inner voice: She thinks I would poison her? Hah. No, I’d rather keep her alive. Keep her near. My personal omega, my cook, my prisoner. She belongs to me. If anyone touches her, I’ll rip their throat out with my teeth.

I swallowed hard, gripping the edge of the table until my knuckles turned white. If only he knew that I could hear everything. Every twisted thought. Every cruel insult. Every dangerous promise.

The air felt heavier as I forced myself to take another bite.

The fork scraped against the bowl. My hands shook. His eyes followed every movement, like a predator watching prey.

"Eat more," he ordered again, his lips curling into something close to a smile but it wasn’t kind. It was sharp, dangerous. "You’re too thin."

"Huh! I wanted to tell him I was fine, that I wasn’t hungry, but I knew better than to refuse. I kept eating. Bite after bite, the mac and cheese disappeared from my bowl, though I hardly tasted it anymore. All I could feel was the weight of his gaze, the echo of his inner voice bouncing around inside my skull.

"Inner voice: She’s not bad to look at, even when she’s shaking like a frightened mouse. That hair messy but soft. Those eyes always wide with fear. The beautiful toad doesn’t even know she’s mine. Mine to feed. Mine to watch. Mine to keep.

Another cough tore from my throat. I covered my mouth quickly, but my face burned with heat. Beautiful toad again? If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was mocking me. But there was a strange possessive edge in his thoughts that made my stomach churn.

"Why are you coughing so much?" he asked, his tone calm, but there was something sharp beneath it.

"I... I swallowed wrong," I stammered, keeping my eyes on the table.

"Hm." He leaned forward, elbows resting on the wood, his fingers tapping once, twice, before going still. "Then swallow correctly."

I nodded quickly, stuffing another forkful into my mouth just to prove I could. My throat burned as I forced it down.

Silence stretched between us, heavy and suffocating, broken only by the scrape of my fork and the pounding of my heart. Then his inner voice came again, lower, almost thoughtful.

Inner voice: She cooks, she obeys, she even eats when I tell her. Good little toad. The others are all useless, pathetic worms slithering around my pack. None of them matter. Only her. Only my omega.

My stomach dropped. He wasn’t just obsessed with control. He was obsessed with me. I glanced up through my lashes, only to find his gaze fixed firmly on me. His lips didn’t move, but the corners twitched as if he was hiding another dark thought.

I looked away quickly, my hands gripping the fork tighter. Don’t react. Don’t let him know. He can’t find out you can hear him. I took another bite. Another sip of water. The meal stretched on like a punishment. When my bowl was finally empty, I pushed it away slightly, my chest rising and falling in relief. "I’m... finished," I whispered. The crazy Alpha’s eyes narrowed.

"Finished?" Then, slowly, he smiled. But it wasn’t warm it was the kind of smile that sent shivers racing down my spine.

"Good girl," he said.

His inner voice followed immediately after:

"Inner voice: Good little toad. She obeys. She listens. She eats. Soon she will stop trembling. Soon she will realize she belongs only to me. And when she finally looks at me without fear.

I held my breath, waiting for him to finish the thought.

But he didn’t. Instead, he stood up suddenly, the chair legs screeching against the floor. My body jolted in response, panic shooting through me. He towered over me, shadow stretching long across the kitchen floor. For a moment, I thought he might grab me, force me into something worse. But instead, I didn’t move, didn’t breathe. My heart thundered in confusion. Only God knows what the crazy psycho is up now. His gaze lingered on me, sharp and unreadable. Then he turned, his voice flat and cold. "Stay here. Don’t move."

And just like that, he walked out of the kitchen, his footsteps fading down the hall, leaving me sitting there in silence, clutching the blanket tight. My chest heaved. My thoughts spun.

What is happening to me? To him?"