CHAPTER 50: CHAPTER 50

I had a bad feeling long before the door even opened.

The whole building carried it like the walls themselves had soaked in blood and were now trying to whisper warnings into my ear. Even through the silence, I could feel it: Alpha Zach was back.

And from the sounds I’d caught drifting through the halls earlier shouting, boots stomping, warriors laughing with that too-high kind of laughter that only comes after violence I knew it hadn’t been a simple "hunt." It had been one of his missions. The kind where he left in a mood, came back covered in someone else’s life, and then decided to make me his bedtime story. So I did the smartest thing I could think of, I pretended to be asleep.

When the door open. I heard the sound of heavy boots thudded inside. Not just one pair, several. The warriors.

I was asleep. Deeply asleep. A little helpless omega who knew nothing of the world. That was the role.

"Leave," Alpha Zach’s voice rumbled, sharp and deep enough to scrape my spine.

The boots shuffled back. The door shut again and everywhere was silence again. Except... not really.

Because Zach’s silence was never true silence. It was the silence of something big crouching in the dark, waiting for you to twitch so it could pounce. I felt him before I saw him. The heat, the weight of his presence, pressing at the edges of the bed. My lashes were practically glued to my cheeks, but I knew he was staring. The mattress dipped.

Oh God! He sat down. I fought the urge to curl up tighter. I had to stay loose, natural, the picture of innocence. People in real sleep twitched, shifted, drooled even. I didn’t dare drool what if it disgusted him? Or worse, what if it excited him? My luck with this psycho was never good. Then his inner voice roared to life, as loud and vivid as if he were speaking straight into the room.

"Inner voice: She’s still here. Good. My omega didn’t run. My Ellie stayed where she belongs."

I swallowed a groan.

No, Psycho I stayed because you tied me here with fear, not devotion.

"Inner voice: Unlike that pathetic Alpha I tore apart. He thought he could barter with me? Offer his daughter? That weakling dared imagine me at her side? HA. I showed him."

My heart stuttered.

Oh no.

"Inner voice: I wiped out his entire pack before sunset. His warriors begged for mercy. I gave them death instead. Blood soaked the earth like rain."

I almost stopped breathing.

Did he just casually admit to genocide like he was describing a picnic?

"His daughter pitiful. She thought a pretty face could sway me. Fool. She’ll never be Ellie. No one will ever be Ellie."

I wanted to scream: I don’t want to be Ellie either! But I was Ellie. His Ellie. Inescapably. Unfortunately.

I forced a tiny twitch in my leg, the kind people did in deep sleep. Natural. Innocent.

He chuckled.

Not a warm chuckle. Not a "Inner voice: ha-ha, good joke" chuckle. No. This was the kind of sound villains make when the hero finally falls into their trap.

"Inner voice: Even asleep, she moves like an angel. My angel."

Angel? I was sweaty, hungry, and terrified. The only wings I had were the ones I wished could fly me out of here. Stupid psycho.

The room stank of blood. His clothes were stiff with it. I could feel the wet squish of it in his boots each time he shifted. His aura pressed heavier and heavier, like he was dragging the battlefield in with him. He leaned closer.

I smelled iron. And smoke. And madness.

"Inner voice: carved it into his chest Ellie is mine. Let his soul carry the message to the afterlife. None will touch what belongs to me."

My stomach lurched. I nearly gagged, but I turned it into a sleepy exhale. Oh God, if you are real, smite me now.

The water started running in the washroom. He was cleaning up. I should have felt relief. Instead, I panicked harder. Because a clean Zach meant a comfortable Zach, and a comfortable Zach meant one thing: he’d crawl into bed. And then what? Would he stroke my hair while thinking about how many throats he slit today? Would he whisper sweet nothings like "Your smile is brighter than a fresh kill"?

I squeezed my eyes tighter, praying for unconsciousness to take me for real. He returned minutes later, smelling of soap but still carrying that metallic tang of blood. The mattress dipped again. A hand hovered above me so close I could feel the air shift over my skin but didn’t touch.

"Inner voice: She will never know how much I do for her. How much I kill for her."

What! What is this crazy psycho talking about? And why will he kill for me?" Oh heavens.

"Inner voice: One day she’ll see. She will cry in my arms, beg me never to leave. And I’ll never leave. Never."

My inner voice screamed louder than his.

Beg you? Please. The only thing I’d beg for is an escape route and maybe some noodles. He lay down beside me. The bed dipped, his weight pinning me between the mattress and his madness. His breath fanned against my neck, steady but heavy. I counted the seconds.

One... two... three...

Don’t move, Ellie. Don’t sneeze. Don’t even think loudly. Hours passed or maybe minutes. Time didn’t work right when you were trapped in a psycho’s room pretending to be asleep. My body ached from staying still. My wolf whimpered silently, urging me to flee.

But I didn’t. I couldn’t. Because the psycho wasn’t just watching me. He was listening. Breathing with me. Thinking about me in ways that made my skin crawl and my stomach twist. At some point, I drifted into a half-sleep, the kind where dreams and reality tangled. I dreamed of blood rivers and Zach standing in them, smiling, carving my name into the corpses. I woke with a silent jolt, but kept my eyes shut, terrified he’d notice. A knock on the door finally broke the nightmare.

"Alpha," a warrior called softly. "It’s done."

Zach growled low, then rose from the bed. "Leave us."

The footsteps retreated.

He leaned down close, so close his breath brushed my ear.

"Mine."

Then he was gone as the door slammed. I finally dared open my eyes. The room was empty except for the lingering bloodstains on the floor, the faint smell of soap, and the crushing reminder that I was still his prisoner. I didn’t get long to breathe. Because before dawn broke, the guards came.

Just when I thought it was over just when I finally let myself breathe like a half-dead fish washed up on shore the door creaked open again.

Oh no. I panicked so hard my wolf yelped inside me, but I flattened myself against the mattress and squeezed my eyes shut. Play dead, Ellie. PLAY. DEAD. The heavy footsteps came closer, slower this time, dragging like thunder rolling across the floor. The scent of soap and steel filled the air again, sharp enough to make me gag. The mattress dipped. A weight pressed against me. His weight. And then his arms. Strong, iron arms wrapping around me like chains disguised as an embrace. My body locked. My lungs froze.

He pulled me flush against his chest, burying his face in my hair. His breath was warm, steady, and way too close.

"Sleep well, my little omega," he whispered.

Oh God. My brain screamed, I’M NOT SLEEPING, YOU BLOODY MANIAC! but my mouth stayed shut. I forced my body to stay limp, boneless, pretending the psycho cuddling me was totally normal, totally fine, totally something I wouldn’t tell a therapist about for the next fifty years if I survived that long.

His grip tightened. Like he thought if he held me hard enough, I’d melt into him. Like I was a possession, not a person and I lay there. I was Breathing steady and my eyes shut. Heart pounding so loud I swore he could hear it.

But I didn’t move. Because in that moment, pretending to sleep was the only weapon I had.

The longer I lay trapped in his arms, the more I realized the universe hated me. At first it was fine well, not fine, but tolerable. My lungs were working, my heart hadn’t exploded, and I was still managing to pretend I was asleep. But then my bladder decided to betray me. I’d drunk too much water before "going to bed," mostly because I’d hoped hydration would calm my nerves. Big mistake. Huge mistake. Now I was stuck, squeezed tight in Alpha Zach’s iron grip, while my poor bladder screamed like a hostage. Don’t panic, Ellie. Just hold it. You’re strong. You can do this. Another ten minutes passed. His arm pressed harder against my stomach.

Oh God! he was literally squishing me. I tried to shift ever so slightly, just enough to ease the pressure. A tiny movement. Harmless. Innocent. But the psycho grip instantly tightened, yanking me closer until my spine protested.

"Mine," he mumbled against my hair.

My bladder whimpered.

Okay. Okay, maybe I could ask. Like a normal person. Maybe he’d understand. Even psychos had to respect the call of nature, right?

I let out the softest whisper. "I... I need to use the toilet."

For a terrifying second, there was silence.

Then his chest vibrated with a low chuckle. "No. Stay."

Stay?! STAY?! What was I, a puppy being told to sit?! I squirmed a little harder, but his arm clamped down like a steel bar, pressing directly into my poor bladder. I bit back a groan. This was cruel and unusual punishment.

"Please," I whispered again, voice shaking. "Just for a moment—"

He buried his face deeper into my neck, inhaling like I was some kind of drug. "Later. Sleep now, my omega."

Later?! Did this lunatic not understand how bladders worked? Later meant disaster. Later meant humiliation. Later meant me dying of shame right here in his arms. Inside, my thoughts were a screaming mess:

Moon Goddess, if you care at all, now’s the time to smite me. Or teleport me. Or at least invent diapers in this cursed world. I wriggled again, desperate and it was a bad idea. Because the more I struggled, the more he seemed to enjoy it. His inner voice purred, "She doesn’t even realize how sweet she is when she squirms. Like she’s made to fit against me."

Sweet?! I was seconds away from turning this bed into a puddle, and he thought it was sweet?! I froze, holding perfectly still again, bargaining silently with my bladder like it was a wild animal. Just hold on. Just a little longer. We can make it. Please don’t betray me now.

The psycho’s grip stayed firm, his warmth smothering, his breath steady. And me?

I lay there with wide, desperate eyes behind my closed lids, silently screaming at the ceiling. This wasn’t just captivity anymore. This was torture.