Innocence in Chains

4. A White Wolf

Amelia’s fingers lightly brushed over the elegant gift tag. But before she could even turn it over, her phone buzzed with a message from her father.

“We’re just outside, sweetheart. Get ready—we’ve got the cake.”

Her heart jumped a little. Quickly, she slipped into the washroom, eyes scanning the pink gown she had set aside earlier. A soft, fairytale-like dress with a delicate shimmer, like something out of her childhood dreams.

She changed quickly and tied her hair into a loose bun, leaving a few curls free around her face. A tiny gold butterfly pin—her mother’s favorite—rested above her ear. It always made her feel close to her. These little family parties used to be her favorite part of the year.

But ever since her mother passed away three years ago, birthdays had changed. There was a silence now. A heaviness, even in the laughter. Still, she did it—for her father.

The way he smiled for her, acted cheerful even when his eyes gave him away… she knew.

She knew how hard he tried. She knew how much he had given just to keep their world from crumbling. As she dabbed a little lip tint and looked at her reflection one last time, the doorbell rang. With a smile blooming softly on her lips, Amelia ran to the door.

She opened it with the kind of excitement only daughters feel when their fathers surprise them with cake…

Only for that smile to falter—just a little. Standing beside her father, holding the cake box like he belonged there, was Herman. Her mood dipped, almost instantly.

She masked it, of course. But inside, something twisted. 'Why him? Why now?'

Still, she forced her lips into a polite curve and stepped aside, letting them in.

As they stepped inside, her father smiled and gently lifted the lid of the cake box. Before she could ask, she said playfully, “Papa, what flavor is it?”

But before her father could speak, Herman cut in smoothly, “It’s your favorite—chocolate. Miss, it took me a long time to find the perfect cake.” The warmth in Amelia’s face faded. She blinked, once. Twice. Her hands froze at her sides.

What was he doing answering in place of her father? This was supposed to be a small, quiet celebration—a father-daughter moment. Something sacred. Something hers. Now… here he was. With the cake. Acting like he knew her. Her voice rose, sharper than she intended, “I asked my papa, not you. And Papa—aren’t you always the one who brings me my cake every year? Why is it him this time?”

The room fell still. Her father’s smile faltered, but only for a second. He stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Princess,” he said softly, “why are you being rude?” His tone wasn’t scolding—just tired, quiet. Like someone trying not to let the edges crack. “I was going to buy the cake myself, like always,” he continued, “but something came up—an emergency at the clinic. I had to rush. There wasn’t time.”

He sighed, running a hand through his graying hair. “Herman offered to help. He spent nearly five hours searching and customizing this for you. I thought you’d like it. Is this how you thank someone who tried?” Amelia’s heart clenched. Her anger didn’t disappear, but the guilt seeped in quietly, like a tide. She looked down at her feet, her fingers curling slightly into the folds of her dress. “…I’m sorry,” she muttered, not lifting her eyes. “Thank you… for the cake.” Even if her heart didn’t want to say it, her manners did.

And Herman—who did everything not for kindness, but because he loved her. Even a cold polite thank you was enough for him. "It's okay, miss. And… congratulations—you're eighteen this year. Officially an adult."

Herman gave a small, proud nod, his voice unusually cheerful. "Now forget everything and let's cut the cake, shall we?"

Amelia looked at him—at that warm, content expression he wore. Despite herself, she smiled. Just a little. The celebration was quiet but sweet. Her father lit the candle, they sang softly, and Amelia made a silent wish before blowing it out. After a while, Herman took his leave, and her father sank into the couch with a soft sigh, tired from the long day.

They talked for a little while longer—just the two of them—until the clock struck midnight. “You should sleep, Papa. It's late” she said, touching his hand gently. He smiled, brushed her hair from her face, and kissed her forehead. “Goodnight, princess.”

She walked to her room with a slow heart, the silence of the house stretching out around her like a warm blanket. After changing into her soft nightgown, she remembered the mysterious box. It had been sitting silently on the table all evening, wrapped so beautifully, as if it were waiting just for her. She approached it with hesitant fingers, peeled away the ribbon, and slowly lifted the lid.

Her breath caught.

Inside was a large black teddy bear—but not just any teddy. It was stitched perfectly, fur midnight-dark, with soft glassy eyes. But there was something… odd. In its arms was a plush puppy actually no, it's not a puppy it's a wolf, snowy white. Who sent such an weird gift?

Beautiful—yes.

But the more she looked, the more she noticed its details. The eyes were almost too lifelike. And the little wolf, while adorable, had a strange air to it… as though it wasn’t just a toy. She spotted a small button on the teddy’s paw. Curious, Amelia pressed it. At first, there was nothing. And then—

A low, bone-chilling wolf’s howl echoed from the bear, sharp and wild. It was followed by a deep, distorted laughter—inhuman, echoing, wrong. Amelia gasped, stumbling backward. “No—” she whispered, heart racing. Without thinking, she grabbed the toy and hurled it across the room. It landed with a soft thud… still smiling, still silent. Moments later, she gathered her courage, picked it up with shaking hands, opened the window—and threw it out into the garden below.

Her heart still pounded.

She tried to convince herself:

A prank. Some weird joke. Nothing serious. Just a bad surprise. But that night, as she curled under her blanket, sleep didn’t come easy. Her body began to ache. A strange, creeping pain settled deep in her bones.

Her joints burned. Her chest felt heavy. She tossed and turned.

And then the dreams came.

Amelia stood in a vast, fog-covered forest, barefoot, breathless. The trees towered around her like ancient watchers. In the distance, a howl echoed—low and mournful. She turned—and saw it. A massive white wolf. Its fur glowed under the moonlight, and its eyes… piercing blue, like ice and lightning all at once. It was beautiful—terrifyingly beautiful.

It was running toward her.

She ran. Branches slapped against her skin, thorns tore at her legs—but she ran. She didn’t know where, or how—but every instinct screamed: If it catches me… I’ll die. She tripped—fell hard onto the forest floor. Before she could even move—

The wolf jump on her. It pounced, looming over her, breath hot on her skin. And just as its eyes locked with hers— She woke up.

Gasping. Shaking like a leaf. Her nightdress clung to her skin, damp with sweat. Amelia sat in bed, arms around her knees, too afraid to move. Outside, the wind blew softly. Somewhere in the far distance, she could’ve sworn…... She heard a howl.