Chapter 68: Chapter 68
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The corridor exploded with the sound of feet slapping against stone. Joan and Elara ran as though fire itself chased them, their breaths tearing out of their lungs in ragged bursts. I pressed my palms hard against the locked door, heart pounding so loudly I thought it would burst through my chest. Through the crack near the bottom, I saw them dart past shadows twisted in panic, bodies jerking forward without rhythm. Elara’s shoe caught on the uneven stone. It flung high into the air before tumbling behind her, abandoned like a corpse of leather and fabric. She didn’t stop to grab it. She didn’t even stumble. Barefoot, she kept running, her toes scraping against the cold floor.
Joan wasn’t so lucky. Her foot caught on the same uneven edge, and she pitched forward with a shriek. My heart stopped. For a moment, I thought she’d crash headfirst into the ground, bones snapping under her own weight. But somehow, with a wild, graceless flail of her arms, she managed to catch herself. Her palms slapped against the stone, skin scraping raw, before she shoved herself up and stumbled forward again.
Behind them, framed in the thin strip of light under the door, a figure remained perfectly still. The Psycho Alpha. He hadn’t moved since ordering them to run. His shadow stretched long and monstrous across the corridor, the outline of broad shoulders and a head cocked slightly to the side, as though he were admiring his prey’s frantic escape. He didn’t chase. He didn’t shout. He just stood there, silent, watching. That stillness was worse than any violence.
My throat burned. I wanted to scream for Joan and Elara, to tell them not to look back, not to stumble, not to hesitate. But the sound caught in my chest, strangled by terror. If I made a noise, if I drew attention, what if he turned on me instead? What if he punished them through me?
So I stayed pressed against the wood, trembling, forced to listen. Their footsteps thundered, each slap of bare skin and thin soles echoing through the hall like drumbeats of desperation. Joan’s breaths came in loud, wet sobs, hitching with every stride. Elara’s cries were higher, broken wails that tore through the air before vanishing into the distance.
"Run," his voice slithered inside my skull, though his lips hadn’t moved. I knew it. He hadn’t spoken aloud. He didn’t need to. His thoughts burrowed straight into my mind like claws carving into bone. Run faster. Run until your lungs bleed. Run until you collapse. I want to see how far fear can carry you before it eats you alive.
I pressed my forehead against the door, squeezing my eyes shut. Stop. Please stop.
The sound of their frantic feet shifted, one heavier, one lighter. I imagined Elara limping, toes cut open on the rough floor without her shoe. Joan gasping, blood smearing across her scraped palms. But neither stopped. They couldn’t. To stop meant death. Behind them, he chuckled. The sound was low, barely audible, but it seeped under the door like smoke, filling the room until I thought I’d choke on it.
Pathetic little lambs, his inner voice hissed, curling around my thoughts. Do you see them, Ellie? Your friends, your protectors? All it took was a single word from me, and they scatter like rats. You locked them out, thinking you saved them. But really, you gave me a show. You handed me their fear on a silver platter.
My stomach twisted violently. I dropped to my knees, clutching them against my chest. I didn’t mean
Didn’t mean what? To betray them? To shove them into my jaws? His laugh cracked through my skull. Intentions don’t matter. Results do. And the result, Ellie, is beautiful.
I rocked back and forth, desperate to shut him out. But his presence was everywhere behind the door, in my head, in the scrape of their fleeing feet. Joan’s cry echoed again, thinner this time, farther away. The sound of her stumble rattled the stones, followed by her desperate scramble upright. Elara’s wail cracked mid-note, turning into a ragged gasp.
And still, he didn’t move.
The Psycho Alpha stood at the door, arms crossed, head tilted, watching. His silence was a cage. He didn’t need to chase them because he already owned them. Their fear was his leash, pulling them apart piece by piece.
I pressed my palms flat against the wood, wishing I could tear it open, wishing I could drag them back inside where at least we could suffer together. But my hand refused to move to the lock. My body was frozen, nailed in place by terror.
Good, his voice whispered. Stay where you are. Feel it. The guilt. The helplessness. That’s the flavor I like best.
The pounding of footsteps grew fainter. Their voices stretched thinner, echoing farther down the corridor. Joan sobbed openly now, gasping for air. Elara’s bare feet slapped wetly against the floor, the skin probably splitting open with every stride. And then everywhere became silent. They were gone. The corridor swallowed them whole. I held my breath, every nerve straining to hear, praying they’d made it far enough, that they’d reached safety. But safety didn’t exist here. Not really. If he wanted them dead, he’d snap his fingers and it would be done. The only reason they still breathed was because he allowed it. The shadow under the door shifted. His boots creaked against the stone as he adjusted his stance. Slowly, deliberately, he leaned forward until the faintest whisper of his presence pressed harder through the barrier. My heart jumped into my throat.
"Alone at last," he murmured aloud this time, his voice so soft it might have been mistaken for affection.
I clamped a hand over my mouth, strangling a sob.
You’ll thank me one day, Ellie, his thoughts slid into mine again. I rid you of your distractions. Now, you belong only to me. No more little shadows to cling to. No more false protectors. Just you... and me.
My tears blurred the floor beneath me. They dripped onto my hands, hot and salty, leaving wet circles against my skin. The silence stretched on. I couldn’t tell how long he stood there, looming beyond the door, breathing in my fear. Seconds? Minutes? Hours? Time warped in his presence, stretched thin until it cut. And then, at last, his boots clicked against the floor. One step. Another. Slow, deliberate, retreating down the corridor.
I dared not move.
The sound faded. The shadow dissolved. But even after he was gone, his voice lingered inside me. You’ll never be free. Not until I say so. I collapsed against the door, my body trembling so violently I thought it might split apart. My breaths tore out of me in broken sobs, but the sound didn’t ease the suffocating pressure in my chest. He hadn’t touched them. He hadn’t killed them. He hadn’t even chased them. And that was the worst part.
Because mercy wasn’t in his nature. This was something else. The moment Joan and Elara vanished down the corridor in a flurry of pounding footsteps and shrill breaths, I shut the door and pressed my back against it, my lungs dragging air like I had been running as well. The echo of their terror still vibrated in my ears—the scuff of shoes, Elara’s half-scream when one slipped off, Joan’s stumbling gasp as though she was about to hit the ground. Then came the heavy silence. I thought I was alone. I pushed myself off the door and stumbled across the room, every muscle in my body trembling. My heart was still racing so fast that it felt as if it would rip right out of my chest. I needed to sit down, I needed to collapse, I needed. My foot caught the edge of the rug. The world tilted sharply. My stomach lurched, and for a second I was certain I would crash face-first into the hard floor. My hands flew out, useless in the air. The sharp terror of impact sliced through me before it could even happen But it never came. An arm, firm and unyielding, slipped around my waist. A hand caught my elbow and steadied me, holding me upright as if I weighed nothing at all. My breath hitched violently as my body froze against that touch I knew too well.
"Careful," a smooth voice murmured, close to my ear. Too close. "If you’re this clumsy, little one, next time you might break your leg."
The soft chuckle that followed made my stomach twist into knots.
I gasped and jerked away as soon as my feet were steady again, stumbling backward until my back collided with the wall. My wide eyes darted up, and there he was. The Psycho Alpha. He stood so casually, as though he had simply appeared out of the shadows, his presence filling the room without effort. His lips curved in that faint smile that never reached his eyes, those dark, unreadable eyes that made my blood run cold.
"How... how did you—" My voice broke, shaking so badly the words barely made sense.
He tilted his head, the way a predator might study a trembling rabbit. "I’ve been here, Ellie. I saw everything. Your little trick. Sending your friends away. Locking the door behind them as if that would keep me out."
I swallowed hard, my throat bone-dry. "I... I didn’t mean—"
"Oh, but you did." His voice was gentle, mocking, almost amused. "You wanted them gone. You thought it would keep them safe from me, didn’t you? Or maybe..." His smile deepened, sharper now, "...maybe you just wanted to be alone with me."
My entire body jolted at the suggestion. "N-no! That’s not
"Shhh." He lifted a finger to his lips, silencing me with a single soundless gesture. "No need to protest. I enjoy the thought. You tricked them so cleverly, little one. I should praise you for that."
He stepped closer, slow, deliberate. Each footfall echoed too loudly in the small room. My breath stuttered as I pressed harder against the wall, wishing I could melt into it, wishing I could disappear entirely.
When he reached me, he leaned down just slightly, invading my space until his presence pressed down on me like a weight I couldn’t escape. "But you should be more careful," he whispered, his voice almost tender. "If I hadn’t caught you, you would’ve fallen. Maybe cracked your skull. Maybe twisted your ankle. And then what would you do? Crawl on the ground, begging me for help?"
A trembling sob escaped my throat before I could stop it. My chest felt too tight, my breaths shallow and broken.
"That’s not very graceful, Ellie." His tone was light, playful almost, but the undercurrent beneath it was sharp as blades. "You should stay on your feet. You never know when you’ll need to run."
Run. The word seared through me like fire, but my legs wouldn’t move. I was trapped under his gaze, pinned to the wall by nothing but the cruel amusement in his eyes.
He straightened slowly, still too close, still watching me like I was the most fascinating creature he’d ever seen. "You did well tonight," he said at last, as if delivering a verdict. "Sending them away. Locking them out. That’s the kind of instinct I like. But don’t worry..." His smile softened again, mockingly kind. "I’ll take good care of you now that you’re alone."
Alone!! The word sank into me like ice. My knees threatened to give way beneath me, but I forced myself to stay upright, to not collapse at his feet. If I fell, he would catch me again. And I didn’t want his hands on me. Not again. But even as I thought it, I could still feel the phantom weight of his arm around my waist, the strength of his grip on my elbow. Too firm. Too possessive. Too careful. I wanted to scream.
But no sound came out. Only silence. And his quiet, mocking laughter that lingered long after he stopped smiling.