Still asleep…I think.
I gotta find another way out.
My gaze drifts to the window.
It’s tall, framed in heavy wood with the curtains pulled most of the way shut. I ease toward it, every step deliberate, terrified of the floor creaking beneath my weight. When I reach it, I pause, listening again. Nothing but the house settling. Nothing but my own pulse roaring in my ears.
Slowly, I pinch the edge of the curtain and draw it back. Morning spills in.
The sun is cresting the horizon, pale and washed-out through a blanket of fog that hangs low over the ground.The world outside feels unreal, muted and distant, like I’m looking at it through glass underwater.
In the distance, I can make out the faint silhouettes of mountains, dark smudges against the brightening sky. Closer, a handful of houses sit on the other side of the property.
Big ones.
Wide, sprawling, all sharp lines and clean angles, even through the haze. Expensive.
My fingers curl around the cold window frame. I test it gently, barely breathing, already picturing myself easing it open, slipping out into the fog. But it doesn't move.
I try again, slower. Nothing. Solid. Sealed tight.
Locked.
My pulse spikes. I fumble for the catch, nails scraping softly against the metal, when?—
Footsteps.
Heavy ones.
They hit the hallway with unmistakable weight, not careful, not quiet. Alpha strides. Voices rumble over each other, words twisted and indistinct but close enough that I can feel them vibrating through the floor.
Too close.
I spin, panic flaring hot and blinding as my gaze sweeps wildly around the room. Closet. Bathroom. Bed. Hiding spots that feel laughably obvious. After all, any alpha with a half-decent nose would scent me in seconds.
There’s nowhere to hide.
My chest tightens. No time. No choices.
I bolt for the bed.
The covers are still warm as I scramble back under them, heart pounding so hard I’m sure the whole house can hear it. I yank the blanket up to my chin. I turn my facetoward the pillow, squeeze my eyes shut, force my breathing to slow.
In. Out. Quiet. Be still.
I can’t believe I’m doing this again.
Footsteps stop right outside the door. Voices lower. The handle rattles.
The door opens and the overhead light clicks on.
I hear more than one set of feet crossing the threshold. The mattress dips slightly, then steadies, like someone’s sitting at the foot of the bed. I keep my face slack, breathing shallow and even, eyelashes resting against my cheeks.
Warren’s voice cuts through the silence first. “She’s barely been awake since we got her,” he says, his voice tight around the edges. “I’m worried they dosed her way too heavy.”
A pause, then softer footsteps as someone stops right next to my side.
“What exactly did they give her?” a beta asks. His voice is calm and professional, the kind that doesn’t rush or soften things. A doctor, I assume. Another one…
