CHAPTER 7

His presence pressed against me before I even saw him — thick, heavy, suffocating. My heart thudded so hard it hurt.

No light. No escape. Just his voice… and the sound of his slow, deliberate steps approaching.

Every instinct screamed at me to run. But my feet wouldn’t move.

“Answer me,” he said, a whisper that felt louder than a roar.

I opened my mouth, but no sound came out.

And then — his hand brushed against my throat. Not hard. Not gentle either. A reminder. A promise.

“This,” he murmured, leaning close enough for his breath to touch my ear, “is the last time you get to walk through my door like someone who matters.”

His fingers slid away, leaving goosebumps crawling across my skin.

“Tomorrow,” he continued, stepping back into the dark, “you’ll learn what you are.”

The door opened behind me on its own, the draft biting at my skin.

“Run back to your room, Janayah,” Alpha Mace said, almost lazily. “And pray I wake up in a merciful mood.”

The moment I stumbled out, the door slammed shut behind me like the house itself exhaled. My knees nearly buckled beneath me.

The hall was empty. Silent. But even then… I could still feel his voice wrapped around my throat.

The hall felt too quiet.

Too still.

But his voice still clung to me like smoke.

The last time you get to walk through my door like someone who matters.

I walked fast, my hands trembling at my sides as I traced the same path I’d walked earlier, every step echoing against the cold floors. It wasn’t panic exactly… more like that familiar ache that always found me in moments like these. I wasn’t someone who mattered. I never had been. Not to my pack. Not to anyone. Even life itself had turned its back on me a long time ago.

When I reached the dining hall, the empty dining hall greeted me like a hollow echo. The chairs were already tucked in, the scent of food faint in the air — warm bread, something sweet — but the place was deserted. Everyone was gone.

I turned to leave, ready to disappear somewhere quiet. Somewhere I wouldn’t have to think.

“Hope you weren’t in trouble,” a soft voice said behind me.

I froze, turning to see Samantha walking toward me, her smile easy and warm — a strange kind of warmth that felt out of place in my chest.

I shook my head. “Not really,” I managed to say. My voice sounded small.

Samantha’s smile widened. “Well, then that’s good to hear.”

I hesitated. Something inside me needed to know. “Why… why would you think I was in trouble?”

She raised an eyebrow at me, like I should’ve known already. “Well, if Jackie calls you with that face, it usually means two things — either you’re in trouble, or she’s in a bad mood and looking for someone to take it out on.” Then she laughed lightly. “Remind you, Jackie is our omega.”

The word slammed into me. Omega.

A shiver crawled down my spine, fast and sharp. My skin prickled with goosebumps before I could stop it. That word didn’t just carry a title for me. It carried memories — the kind I’d spent years trying to bury.

Samantha’s brows knit together. “Hey… are you cold?”

I forced a nod, hugging my arms tight around myself to hide the way my hands had started to shake. “A little,” I lied.

She didn’t look convinced, but she let it go. “Well,” she said, her tone lighter, “the girls went down to train. I thought maybe you’d want to join us. You know, get to know everyone. The pack.”

My throat tightened. The thought of stepping into a space full of strangers made something inside me want to turn and run. But another part of me — a smaller, quieter part that still wanted to belong to something — whispered that being alone was worse.

I swallowed hard. “…Okay.”

Samantha’s smile brightened, soft and genuine. “Good. Come on then. I’ll show you where we train.”

I followed her.

My steps were quiet, but my mind wasn’t. Alpha Mace’s voice still echoed at the back of my head, wrapping itself around my ribs like chains.

And even as the hallway opened up to something new, it didn’t let me go.

The closer we got, the louder the sound grew — the solid thud of feet hitting the ground, the sharp echo of commands, and the rough, rhythmic breathing of people pushing themselves past their limits.

The training field came into view, and for a moment, I stopped walking.

The space was wide and open, edged by tall pines. The air was crisp, the kind that made your lungs sting a little when you breathed too deep. A group of girls — the same ones I’d seen at breakfast — were scattered across the field. Some were sparring, others shifting back and forth between human and wolf, their movements practiced and smooth.

They looked… strong. Unshaken. Like this was where they belonged.

Unlike me.

Samantha glanced back, her braid swinging behind her. “Come on,” she said gently, “no one’s going to bite. Well… not unless you ask them to.”

I huffed out something between a laugh and a breath. It came out thin.

We stepped onto the field, and just like that — every head turned.

Their eyes found me all at once.

It wasn’t cruel. Not like the stares I’d grown up with. But it was heavy. Curious. Weighing me. Measuring me.

My chest tightened. I didn’t know where to put my hands, how to stand, how to breathe. My instinct was to lower my gaze, keep my head down, make myself small — like I’d always done. But Samantha’s shoulder brushed mine, and that little touch anchored me.

One of the girls — the one who had given me breakfast earlier — raised a hand in a wave. “Hey, Janayah!” Samantha had told them my name. Of course, she had. “Come on. We don’t bite.”

A few chuckled softly. It wasn’t mocking. Just easy. Light.

But my feet didn’t move. Not right away. My pulse was too loud in my ears.

Samantha leaned in. “It’s okay. You don’t have to be anyone but yourself here.”

But who was I, if not the girl they used to break?

I forced one step forward. Then another. And before I knew it, I was standing at the edge of their circle, still holding on to the last bit of my breath.

The training seemed to slow as they looked me over. Sweat glistened on their foreheads, their chests rose and fell in quick, strong breaths. They were wolves who had never had their strength stripped away. They didn’t carry the weight I did.

“You can sit if you want,” one of them said, nodding to the grass. “We all started somewhere.”

I lowered myself down slowly, my fingers curling in the cool grass, grounding me. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t even know how to belong in a space like this.

Samantha crouched beside me. “Alpha Mace believes in training the women as much as the men,” she explained softly. “Strength isn’t a privilege here. It’s survival. Freedom.”

The word freedom burned against my chest like something dangerous and fragile. I’d never had it. Not really. Not until now… and even then, it felt too good to believe.

As the others returned to sparring, I watched them closely — the way they moved, the way their wolves shifted in perfect rhythm with their bodies. And for the first time, instead of fear, something else stirred in me.

A spark.

Small. Uncertain. But real.

“Hey!”

The sound of that word behind me snapped through the air like a whip.

Jackie.

She didn’t use Janayah. She didn’t need to. Just hearing her voice — sharp, clear, familiar in a way that made my stomach knot — sent my heart slamming against my ribs.

My body reacted before my brain could catch up. I ran.

The world blurred for a second, my heartbeat rushing in my ears. The other girls were still training, but I could feel their eyes on me — watching the way I bolted, the way fear lived in my bones like it had never left.

That was my life. That was who I was.

By the time I reached Jackie, my chest was tight and my breath was short. I lowered my head automatically, a reflex older than my own name.

“Yes, Jack—” I caught myself just in time. My lips trembled. “Omega.”

Jackie tilted her head at me, one brow raised, the edge of a wry smile on her face. “Why are you running like that?” Her voice wasn’t loud, but it was firm, and it cut straight through me. “Like you’re about to be beheaded.”

I flinched at the word, forcing my breath to steady.

“Look at me when I talk to you,” she added.

It felt like peeling off a layer of skin, but I lifted my eyes. Slowly. Carefully.

Her gaze wasn’t cruel. But it was piercing.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

For a heartbeat, everything in me froze. My mouth went dry.

What name?

The girl without a name. That’s what I’d always been.

But then Brenda’s voice from this morning echoed in my head — gentle, warm, real.

Janayah.

“Janayah,” I whispered. My voice barely carried, like it might break if I pushed it any louder.

Jackie nodded once, like she was testing the sound of it in her head. Then her expression softened into something that almost — almost — looked like approval.

“Well, Janayah,” she said, drawing my name out like she owned it now. “First of all, address me by my name. Jackie. Not Omega. We’re not doing that here.”

I blinked at her. The world tilted a little. No one had ever corrected me that way. No one had ever wanted to be called by their name from me.

“Second,” she continued, turning on her heel, “you need to come with me.”

I nodded quickly, lowering my head out of old habit, falling into step behind her. That’s what you did — you followed when someone higher than you called.

“Walk with your head high,” Jackie’s voice came again — not harsh, but steady, like she wasn’t asking. “No one here is going to break you down. Not unless you let them.”

I hesitated, then forced my chin up just a little. The air felt different this way — colder against my throat, sharper against my chest. Unfamiliar.

But it was the first time in my life anyone had told me to walk like I mattered.

And even though it terrified me…

I walked.

Jackie didn’t say another word as we walked.

Her boots clicked softly against the wooden floor, the sound echoing through the empty hall like a ticking clock. Every step I took behind her, my stomach twisted tighter — a cold knot sitting low, heavy. The corridors grew quieter, emptier. And then we stopped.

She turned, her expression unreadable now, all traces of warmth gone from her face. My breath hitched.

Jackie pointed to a wide, heavy door I hadn’t noticed before. It was carved with the pack’s crest — the wolf and the moon entwined. A room I’d never seen. A room I’d never wanted to see.

She turned back to me, her arms crossing over her chest. “Alright, Janayah,” she said evenly. “I’m not the one who decided this. But it’s the Alpha’s order.”

My pulse slammed against my ribs. “Wh–what order?”

She let out a small breath, almost pitying, but not soft enough to ease the dread crawling up my spine. “He wants this entire storage room cleaned. Every inch of it. Organized. Floors scrubbed. Shelves cleared. Everything.”

She paused, and the weight of her next words nearly crushed the air out of me.

“And he wants it done within thirty minutes.”

My throat closed. Thirty minutes? My eyes darted to the door again — the size of it, the silence humming behind it like something waiting to swallow me whole. I could almost smell the dust already. Feel the sting of the scrubbing water against my hands. My heart hammered so hard I thought it might split in two.

“Thirty minutes,” I repeated, my voice barely a whisper.

Jackie’s gaze softened just a fraction — but she didn’t take it back. “Don’t look at me like that. It’s his order. And you don’t keep him waiting.”

My palms were already sweating. My legs trembled. This wasn’t just a task. This was a test. A reminder. A warning.

And I knew what happened to people who failed.

Jackie reached for the door handle and pulled it open.

“Go.” She ordered.

Her hand didn’t touch me, but it didn’t need to. The weight of her words alone pushed me forward. My fingers trembled as I reached for the handle and stepped inside.

The air hit me first — still, unmoving.

Then my eyes adjusted to the dim light… and I froze.

The room was empty.

Not dusty. Not cluttered. Not dirty.

Empty.

A single wide space stretched out before me — smooth wooden floors, bare walls, not a speck out of place. Not what I expected at all.

My pulse thrummed faster. Why would he order her to bring me here if there was nothing to clean?

Before I could turn around to ask, the door slammed shut behind me with a deep, final thud.

I spun around, my breath catching in my throat. “Jackie?”

Silence.

The air grew heavier. The quiet wasn’t just silence now — it was alive, pressing against my skin like fingers made of shadow. My heartbeat roared in my ears, drowning everything else.

Then it came.

A low, rumbling growl — deep, feral, and too close.

It wasn’t Jackie.

It wasn’t a human sound.

The hairs at the back of my neck stood up.

I wasn’t alone.