CHOSEN FOR THE ALPHA のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 31 - チャプター 40

Theressa's POVSleep has never felt like a stranger to me, not until tonight. Even after the nightmare dissolves and Lyon’s presence steadies the room, my body refuses to fall completely back into rest. It hovers instead—caught somewhere between the pull of exhaustion and the sharp memory of the forest that didn’t belong to reality. I can feel the remnants of fear in my chest, lingering like a bruise that hasn’t decided whether to fade or deepen.I turn onto my side slowly, careful not to shift the blankets too much, as if moving too abruptly might trigger the same panic that dragged me out of sleep earlier. The air is warm from the lamp I left on, but it feels thin, almost fragile. And beneath all of it, there is the quiet sound of someone breathing beside me—not in my bed, but close enough that his presence changes the texture of the silence.Lyon.He’s still in the chair, posture heavy but controlled, one arm draped loosely over his knee while the other rests against the side of th

THERESSA’S POVMorning doesn’t arrive with warmth or softness. It doesn’t carry the familiar brightness that normally slips through the curtains in thin golden lines. Instead, it settles over the house like a muted shadow—uninvited, uncertain, almost hesitant. When I open my eyes, the room feels colder than it should, as if the night didn’t quite leave, as if something about it lingered along the walls and refused to fade with daylight.For several seconds I lie absolutely still, trying to listen beyond my own breathing. Usually mornings greet me with faint sounds—traffic, birds, neighbors, even the tiny hum of life waking up outside. But today there is nothing. Not a whisper of movement. Not a single reminder that the world exists beyond these walls.Just silence.A silence that feels intentional.I pull the blanket aside and sit up slowly. My body feels heavy, the remnants of last night’s nightmare still clinging to my muscles like a residue I haven’t shaken off. Every breath feels

THERESSA’S POVThere are moments when the world feels like it’s pressing too close to the skin, moments when the air inside a house feels heavier than the air outside, as if something unseen has shifted its weight onto the walls. Even after Lyon finishes speaking—after the truth of danger settles in—the atmosphere doesn’t clear. It thickens. It grows more defined.I feel it when I inhale.I feel it in my shoulders.I feel it in the way every sound seems to echo one second longer than it should.I stand in the kitchen, gripping the counter as if the solid surface can anchor me to something stable. Lyon stands only a few feet away, posture controlled, gaze on the living room like he expects the walls to breathe. The presence he sensed earlier may be gone now, but its trace lingers in the air—a faint distortion I can’t explain but feel with a certainty that makes my heartbeat pulse harder.For a while, neither of us speaks.Then Lyon’s voice cuts quietly through the stillness.“Theressa.

THERESSA’S POVPacking shouldn’t take this long.It’s only clothes, a few essentials, a toothbrush, a charger—things that, in any normal situation, would be mindless. But nothing about this morning feels normal, and my hands refuse to move the way they usually do. I fold the same sweater twice, realize I’m not even looking at it, then unfold it again just to keep my fingers busy.The house is too quiet.Too dense with the memory of something that shouldn’t have been here.I keep glancing toward the door, as if expecting something to come through it. Not because I believe something will, but because the silence makes my mind imagine it anyway.My bag sits half-open on the bed. I should be focusing on it. I should be thinking about where we’re going, how long we’re staying, what I need. But all I can think about is the way Lyon said close enough—the way the words settled in my stomach like a weight I can’t lift.When the doorframe shifts slightly—no sound, just presence—I know he’s ther

THERESSA’S POVThe farther we get from my neighborhood, the more the world begins to feel unfamiliar. Not because the streets are different—these are roads I’ve taken a hundred times, intersections I could navigate with my eyes closed—but because everything around me feels like it’s holding its breath. As if the world is aware of something I can’t fully see yet, something pacing along the edges of the horizon, waiting for the right moment to step into the open.My arms stay wrapped around Lyon’s waist as the motorcycle slices through the morning air. The city blurs past us in muted streaks of gray and pale yellow. The cold wind catches the edges of my hair and pulls them back, and beneath the noise of the engine, I hear my own heartbeat thrumming too fast against my ribs.I don’t know if it’s fear.Or anticipation.Or whatever is happening inside me.But it’s loud.Too loud.Lyon doesn’t speak.He keeps one hand steady on the throttle and the other loose enough to adjust his balance w