WHISPERS IN THE DARK

Tyra's POV

The warmth that had been building between Osric and me shattered like glass.

I glared at Alaric, irritation flaring hot in my chest. "No," I snapped. "We were just—"

"I was checking on her," Osric cut in, his voice sharp enough to draw blood. "Why are you even here?"

Alaric ignored his brother completely. His eyes had already dropped to the cream-colored paper still crumpled in Osric's hand.

"Another problem?" he asked flatly.

I turned away and sank into the armchair by the window, suddenly too tired to stand between the two of them again.

"It's just a note," Osric replied before I could answer, his jaw tight. "Nothing you need to worry about."

Alaric moved so fast I barely saw it. One moment the paper was in Osric's hand, and the next, it was in his, and he was reading it with his brows drawn together in a hard line.

I watched his face as he read it, and I saw the exact moment something changed. His nostrils flared as he lifted the paper slightly closer, and his whole body went still, the way an animal goes still when it catches the scent of something dangerous. For a fraction of a second, something like recognition flickered in his eyes.

Then a low growl rumbled from deep in his chest, so faint it was almost inaudible, and he turned to me.

"You should have told me immediately," he said in a low, accusing voice.

I folded my arms across my chest, instantly defensive. "It just arrived," I shot back. "I haven't even had time to think, let alone send out a formal announcement."

"And yet you had plenty of time for an audience," Alaric said coldly, his eyes flicking pointedly to his brother.

Osric's eyes blazed gold. "Don't you fucking start, Alaric," he growled.

The tension between them thickened until it felt like the air itself might snap. The scent of Alpha power poured into the room, heavy and smoky and so thick I could practically taste it on my tongue. My skin prickled, and the hair on my arms stood on end.

"Both of you, stop it," I said, my voice low and shaking.

Alaric's gaze settled on me and lingered for one long, unreadable moment. Something flickered in his dark eyes that looked almost like fear, and then it was gone.

"I'll handle this," he muttered, folding the note and tucking it into his pocket.

Then he turned and walked out without another word, and the sound of his boots echoed down the corridor until silence swallowed it.

Osric let out a sharp breath and raked both hands through his damp hair. "He is going to drive me insane," he muttered through his teeth. "That man is a professional fun sucker."

I tried to smile, but it didn't quite reach my eyes.

"He's just being Alaric," I said quietly.

What I didn't tell him was that a small, cowardly part of me was grateful Alaric had walked in when he did. If he hadn't, I would have kissed Osric, and I had no idea what I would have done after that.

Osric looked at me again, and his face softened. "If anything happens," he said gently, "if anyone so much as comes near you, you call me. Do you understand?"

I nodded. "I can take care of myself," I murmured.

"I know you can," he said softly. "But let me worry anyway."

He hesitated by the door like every part of him wanted to stay. Then he dragged himself out and closed the door gently behind him.

The study felt far too quiet after he was gone.

I sank back into my chair and stared at the empty desk where the note had been. The words were still burning behind my eyes, and the same questions kept circling in my head without ever landing anywhere.

Why now? Why after twenty years? And who could possibly know enough about my father's death to use it against me?

I shook my head hard and forced myself back to the spreadsheet, determined to bury my fear in numbers the way I always had.

By the time I finally looked up again, the sky outside had gone completely dark. The rain had stopped, and the clouds had cleared to reveal a high, bright moon.

My head was pounding, and my shoulders were stiff, and the thought of going back to my room and staring at the ceiling for another sleepless night made me want to scream. So I grabbed my coat and decided to take a short walk to clear my head before bed.

The cool night air felt like heaven against my skin after hours trapped inside. The grounds smelled of wet earth and pine, and I followed a narrow path toward the edge of the woods, breathing deeply and letting the moonlight wash everything in silver.

For the first time all day, my shoulders finally began to loosen. I even let myself think about the strange look on Alaric's face when he smelled that note and about the fact that, for once, he hadn't told me I was overreacting.

Then I froze.

At the edge of the trees, maybe thirty feet away, a tall, dark figure was standing perfectly still, watching me.

My breath caught in my throat. Every instinct in my body screamed at me to turn around, run back to the house and call Osric or Alaric.

But something about the silhouette made me hesitate. It felt strangely, impossibly familiar, like a word sitting on the tip of my tongue.

I should have run, and I knew that I should have.

But something in the air was tugging at me, soft and insistent, like someone softly calling my name from very far away.

"Who are you?" I called out, my voice barely louder than a whisper.

The figure turned and darted into the trees.

My heart leapt into my throat, and before I could even think about it, I followed.

I didn't decide to do it. My feet simply moved, and it was like something had wrapped itself around my mind and dimmed all my common sense, pulling me forward on an invisible string.

Branches snapped beneath my boots as the forest swallowed me whole. The moonlight flickered through the leaves above, scattering shadows everywhere until I couldn't tell which way was back.

I caught a glimpse of movement just ahead of me, a flash of black fabric and the faint glint of eyes.

"Who are you?" I demanded breathlessly, stumbling over a root.

There was no answer, only the rustle of leaves and a low, humming sense of danger that made the hair on my arms stand on end.

Then the strange fog in my mind suddenly lifted, and I realized exactly where I was.

I was alone, deep in the forest, in the dark.

A faint click sounded beneath my boot.

I froze, my heart stopping, just as a net of shimmering silver light snapped up out of the ground and closed around me like a spider's web.

The moment it touched my skin, pain exploded through my whole body. It was white-hot and blinding, like every nerve I had was being burned from the inside out. I dropped to my knees with a strangled scream as the glowing threads seared into my arms and neck.

It made no sense. Silver was supposed to burn wolves, and I had spent my entire life being told I didn't have one. 

To someone like me, without a wolf, it should have felt like nothing at all. So why did it feel like it was dragging something out of me, something buried so deep beneath my ribs that I hadn't even known it was there?

The air filled with the stench of iron and ash.

And somewhere in the darkness, a voice whispered almost tenderly, "Got you."