Chapter 7 – Locked In

The fire crackled.

That was the only sound in the room. No wind against the windows. No footsteps in the hallway. No whispers creeping under the door. Just the soft, rhythmic pop and hiss of burning wood, and somewhere behind me, the sound of Nikolai breathing.

I lay on the floor, wrapped in the blanket he'd thrown at me, staring at the ceiling.

I couldn't sleep.

Not because the floor was hard—though it was. Not because the fire was too bright—though it was. Not because I was scared—though I was.

I couldn't sleep because Nikolai was right there.

Ten feet away. In that massive bed. His back to me. His body perfectly still.

But I knew he wasn't sleeping either.

I could tell by the way he breathed. Too controlled. Too measured. The breath of someone who was pretending to be asleep, counting each inhale, each exhale, each second that passed between them.

"Nikolai?" I whispered.

No answer.

"I know you're awake."

Still nothing.

I propped myself up on my elbow, looking at the dark shape of him on the bed. The firelight caught the edge of his jaw, the line of his shoulder, the white-blonde hair spilling across the pillow.

"Why won't you talk to me?"

Silence.

Then, so quietly I almost didn't hear it: "Because if I start, I won't be able to stop."

I waited for him to say more.

He didn't.

---

The fire died down.

The room grew colder.

I watched the shadows dance across the ceiling, my mind racing. Lukas's lips on mine. Nikolai's fist connecting with his face. The way Nikolai had looked at me when he said you're wrong about not being mine.

What did that mean?

What did any of this mean?

I closed my eyes, trying to slow my heartbeat, trying to quiet my thoughts. But every time I closed my eyes, I saw Lukas's green ones. Every time I breathed, I smelled Nikolai's scent—pine and snow and something darker, something that made my chest ache.

Mate with me.

You're mine.

Fate doesn't make sense, Ela. It just is.

I didn't understand.

I didn't understand anything.

And somewhere between one thought and the next, I fell asleep.

---

The dream came immediately.

I was running.

Not from something—with something. A wolf ran beside me, huge and gray, its fur silver in the moonlight. Its eyes were gold. Not amber, not honey. Gold. Burning bright in the darkness.

We raced through a forest I'd never seen, trees so tall they swallowed the sky, roots so thick they twisted into the earth like grasping hands. My feet were bare, but I didn't feel the cold. My legs were pumping, but I wasn't tired.

I was happy.

Laughing. Breathless. Alive in a way I'd never been alive before.

The wolf looked at me as we ran, and I swear it was smiling. Its tongue lolled out of its mouth, and its eyes—those impossible gold eyes—were full of something that looked like love.

Where are we going? I asked.

The wolf didn't answer. It just ran faster.

And I ran with it.

---

The dream shifted.

Suddenly I was alone.

The forest was gone. The moon was gone. The wolf was gone.

I stood in a dark room, naked, shivering, my arms wrapped around myself. The walls were made of mirrors—hundreds of them, thousands of them, reflecting my body back at me from every angle.

My soft stomach. My thick thighs. My round face.

The body I'd been taught to hate.

But in the mirrors, my eyes were glowing gold.

You're not human, a voice whispered. You never were.

I turned, looking for the source of the voice.

And woke up.

---

The fire was out.

Gray light filtered through the windows—morning light, pale and cold. I was still on the floor, still wrapped in the blanket, still wearing yesterday's clothes.

But something was different.

The blanket was tucked around me more tightly than I remembered. Someone had folded the edge under my chin, the way my mother used to when I was small and sick and couldn't sleep.

And there was a pillow under my head.

I hadn't had a pillow when I lay down.

I sat up slowly, my body aching from the hard floor. The bed was empty. The sheets were rumpled, the furs pushed aside.

And Nikolai was standing by the window.

He hadn't moved. Or maybe he had—maybe he'd stood there all night, watching the stars fade, watching the sun rise, watching me sleep. His back was to me, his hands clasped behind him, his shoulders tense.

"Did you sleep?" I asked.

"No."

"Did you even lie down?"

A pause. "No."

I looked at the pillow. At the blanket tucked around me. At the way he was standing—so still, so careful, like he was afraid of turning around.

"You tucked me in," I said.

No answer.

"You gave me your pillow."

"It was on the bed," he said. "I wasn't using it."

"Because you weren't sleeping."

"Because I don't need to sleep."

"Everyone needs to sleep, Nikolai."

He turned.

His face was pale. There were dark circles under his eyes—deep purple shadows that made him look almost sick. His jaw was shadowed with stubble, and his hair was disheveled, falling across his forehead in messy strands.

He looked terrible.

He looked beautiful.

"I told you," he said quietly. "I was keeping you safe."

---

We stood there, staring at each other across the room.

The fire was dead. The light was gray. And something was shifting between us—something I couldn't name, couldn't control, couldn't ignore.

"You should go," Nikolai said finally.

"Back to my room?"

"Yes."

"You're not going to lock me in here forever?"

His jaw tightened. "I was never locking you in. I was locking them out."

"Same thing, from where I'm standing."

"No." He took a step toward me. "It's not the same at all."

He stopped a few feet away, close enough that I could see the individual lashes framing his eyes, the tiny scar above his eyebrow, the way his pulse beat in his throat.

"Ela." His voice was rough. "When you leave this room, I can't protect you. Not the way I want to. Not the way I need to."

"Then don't let me leave."

The words came out before I could stop them.

Nikolai's eyes widened. For a moment—just a moment—something cracked in his expression. The mask slipped. The ice melted.

And I saw him.

Not the alpha heir. Not the cold, cruel boy who'd told me to stay out of his way.

Just Nikolai.

Just a boy who was as scared as I was.

"I have to let you leave," he said. "Because if I don't—" He stopped. Swallowed. "If I don't, I'll never let you go."

He turned away.

Unlocked the door.

And held it open for me.

---

I walked back to my room in a daze.

The hallways were empty. The other students were probably at breakfast, or in class, or wherever they went when they weren't making my life miserable.

I climbed the stairs to Moonshadow Hall. Walked down the corridor to room 317. Put my hand on the doorknob.

It was unlocked.

I hadn't left it unlocked.

I pushed the door open slowly, my heart pounding, my senses on high alert. The room looked the same as I'd left it—the bed unmade, the desk cluttered, the window letting in pale morning light.

But something was on my pillow.

A piece of paper. Folded neatly. Weighted down with a stone I'd never seen before—black, smooth, carved with a symbol I didn't recognize.

I picked it up with shaking hands.

The writing was small. Precise. Written in ink so dark it looked black, but when I held it to the light, it gleamed red.

Blood, I realized. It's written in blood.

The message was short.

---

They're watching you.

The walls have eyes. The shadows have teeth.

You're not safe here.

Not anywhere.

Run.

---

I read it three times.

Then I read it again.

My hands were shaking so badly I could barely hold the paper. My breath was coming in short, sharp gasps, and my vision was blurring at the edges.

Who wrote this?

When did they get in?

How long were they standing over my bed while I was gone?

I looked around the room. The wardrobe. The desk. The window.

Everything was the same.

But nothing was the same.

Because someone had been here. Someone had sat on my bed, written a note in blood, and left it on my pillow like a promise.

Or a threat.

I turned the paper over.

On the back, in the same blood-red ink, were four words.

---

Trust no one.

Not even him.