Masuk“Prof-Professor.”
That voice, the same nervous tone. Even the faint tremor running through it was identical; every detail had been etched into his memory.
When Damian closed his eyes, the voice echoed again, bouncing around in his head like a vinyl record stuck in an endless loop. He tried to push it away, but he couldn’t. It clung to him, refusing to let go.
Worse still, once the voice surfaced, a face appeared. Damian let out a low growl in irritation at himself as the face sharpened in his mind—the face of Zaria.
Zaria often looked pale when she was nervous. She also tended to blink rapidly whenever she was caught off guard. Her eyes always conveyed the impression that she was on the verge of asking something, but too afraid to take the next step.
Damian remembered all that too well. His memory had recorded everything automatically, so much so that he knew precisely how Zaria’s lower lip pulled inwards, bit
Damian stood frozen to the spot beside his desk. His breaths were heavy, scraping away at the resolve he had tried to maintain earlier with each exhale. His face dipped slightly. He did not look at the door that Zaria had just closed. He didn’t dare. His heart was broken enough without remembering how Zaria’s eyes had crumbled.Damian scrubbed his face roughly, then bowed his head even lower. His shoulders slumped and the room suddenly felt too small. He was an alpha, someone who should have been the strongest in the pack, yet he felt utterly powerless now. He could face complaints from the council, endure pressure from the elders and take on the role of leader without complaint, yet he couldn’t bear to see Zaria’s eyes wounded by his own words. It made his chest feel as if it were being squeezed brutally.In truth, Damian didn’t just feel guilty or conflicted; something was creeping—screaming—from the deepest pit of his heart,
Zaria faltered as she took the first steps into Damian’s office. Her grip on the proposal folder loosened as if all her strength had been sapped by the few sentences Damian had uttered.Zaria walked without truly seeing where she was going. The air in the corridor felt empty, as though every sound had been muted. The only thing left was the echo of Damian’s voice in her head:“I’m sorry for what I did that time. I hope you forget it.”Zaria blinked hard, once, twice, trying to push away the pain in her chest. But the more she tried, the louder the words echoed and the deeper the pain cut. Her throat tightened and her eyes welled up. She lowered her head and stared at the floor, taking a deep breath that did nothing to calm her.Apologising, Zaria thought, her heart throbbing painfully. What did the professor mean by saying that? Was he implying that what happened between them that day was merely a mistak
You shouldn't have done that, Damian.The words echoed endlessly in his head, pounding in like a sledgehammer, as if someone was deliberately replaying them from the deepest corner of his consciousness. Damian closed his eyes for a moment, trying to steady his breathing, but it was no use. His chest felt heavy. His head throbbed with tension.It was hard to believe that someone like Damian—who had always been synonymous with control, firmness and strict boundaries—had done something he absolutely should not have done. At a time when rumours were spreading throughout the pack, disturbing the palace’s peace and causing anxiety, he had only added fuel to the fire. Instead of soothing or neutralising the unrest, he had ignited it with his own actions.Damian scrubbed his face harshly. His palms felt cold, contradicting the heat that had been rushing through his veins ever since that day—ever since he had allowed his wild instincts to
It wasn't a dream, was it? It really happened? Professor Damian really did…Zaria didn’t dare finish that sentence, not even in her own head. As soon as the words formed in her mind, she immediately covered her face with both hands. Her breath hitched. Her cheeks felt hot. She could feel the warmth lingering on her skin as if her body was recalling something it shouldn’t.“Oh God,” Zaria whispered in panic. Her voice was trapped in her throat. She blinked, then lightly slapped her cheeks with both hands. “What have I done?”Zaria sat back down, resting her chin in her hands, and stared at the students passing by with books under their arms. Everything looked normal—ordinary and familiar—yet, strangely, none of it truly registered. It all simply drifted past her eyes. Only one thing lingered in her mind—the memory.Everything about that kiss resurfaced in Zaria’s mind. Damian&rsquo
Damian opened his eyes with a growl and stared at the grey ceiling of his room. The night had passed, yet his body and mind still refused to sleep. He did not feel tired; rather, his entire head was flooded with an unrest that would not fade—more precisely, it was his wolf spirit that felt that way.Whenever Damian closed his eyes, Zaria’s face appeared unrelentingly—those eyes, that voice, and the faint memories that had been haunting him more frequently of late. The harder he tried to push the thoughts away, the stronger their grip became.Damian sat up slowly. His breaths were long and heavy. He forced himself to remain sane, even though his instincts were rattling like chains on the verge of snapping.After a moment, Damian rubbed his face, holding back a frustrated click of his tongue, but it still escaped between his teeth. He gave up.Not long after, Damian stood before the mirror. Beside him, Margaret was busy straightening the c
“Dog? Could it be? I thought it was a wolf howling.”That was the first thing Zaria heard when she opened her door. She had just stepped out, her hair brushed only half-heartedly and her sleep-deprived, swollen eyes feeling heavy, when a few female students from the same floor walked past her room, chatting casually.“Oh my God! I could barely sleep,” said a girl with curly hair. “That sound really made my skin crawl.”Her friend responded, “My God, I thought it was just a nightmare. But you all heard it too? So there really was howling last night?”“Of course! What else could it be, if not a wolf? I even covered my head with a pillow.”“A wolf from where? This is a campus area, not a forest.”“Still. It didn’t sound like a normal dog.”They continued chatting, their voices gradually fading as they walked to the end of the corridor, whil







