Marked By My Enemy Alpha

Episode9

CHAPTER NINE

Annalise

Hunter’s gaze was locked onto my face, unwavering.

“What did you find down there?” he asked again, this time in a softer tone, which somehow made it feel even more intense.

I considered lying. I thought about saying I’d just gotten lost, that the dirt smudged on my hands didn’t mean anything, that the frantic beating of my heart had nothing to do with the rusted door I’d stumbled upon, wedged behind a pile of crates in the east cellar. A door that looked like it hadn’t been touched in ages but had clearly been unlocked recently.

But the words just wouldn’t come. Not with him so close, not with the chilling memory of what I’d seen still weighing heavily in my chest.

“I need to go,” I finally said, trying to sidestep him.

He caught my wrist before I could take two steps, his grip gentle, not the harsh hold from that first night—just enough to keep me from moving.

“Annalise.”

“I’m tired,” I replied, avoiding his gaze. “Melissa will kill me if I’m late for kitchen duty.”

For a tense moment, he held on, and I braced myself for him to push harder, to demand the truth like he had so many times since that night my parents died. But something in my expression must have told him it wasn’t the right time, because he finally let go and stepped back.

“This isn’t over,” he said.

“It never is with you,” I muttered, turning away before he could say anything else.

I didn’t look back to gauge his reaction. I didn’t need to. I could feel the weight of his stare on my back as I walked down the corridor, and even after I turned the corner, it lingered like a ghost, pressing against the mark on my neck with a low, simmering energy.

The bond. A constant reminder that it worked both ways now.

I hated that. I hated that even from a distance, I couldn’t completely shut him out.

By the time I reached the kitchen, Melissa was already fuming, arms crossed and foot tapping against the stone floor in a rhythm that promised trouble....

“Where have you been?” she snapped, irritation lacing her voice. “I sent for you an hour ago.”

“I got held up,” I replied, which was more or less the truth.

“Held up,” she echoed, her tone flat. “By what, exactly? Your Alpha’s bed?”

The kitchen fell silent, a few omegas pausing their tasks to watch, curious to see how far Melissa would push and how much I would take.

I didn’t bite back. I was too worn out, too shaken from the cellar, from Hunter’s probing questions, from that pale strand of hair still hidden beneath my floorboard, and the note tucked away beside it. I simply didn’t have the energy for Melissa’s antics today.

“Just tell me what needs to be done,” I said.

Something in my lack of enthusiasm seemed to let her down, as if she had been itching for a confrontation and I had denied her that satisfaction. She gestured toward the wash basin, then the ovens, and finally the long table piled high with unpeeled vegetables for the evening meal, a day’s worth of work crammed into whatever time was left in the afternoon.

“All of it,” she said. “And don’t think you’re getting a break just because you decided to wander off this morning.”

I didn’t argue. I simply moved to the table, grabbed a knife, and got to work.

The hours melted away after that, just like they always did. Peel, chop, scrub, stir, lift, carry. My back still throbbed where the lash marks hadn’t completely healed, tightening every time I bent or reached, but I pushed through it, just like I had with everything else since arriving at Silvercrest. One task after another, until there was no space left in my mind for thoughts of cellars, dead mothers’ diaries, or pale strands of hair that didn’t belong to anyone I knew.

It was the lifting that finally did me in.

A crate of root vegetables, heavier than it appeared, needed to be moved from the storeroom to the kitchen, and in her usual cruelty, Melissa decided I was the one to do it. Alone.

I should have asked for help. But pride, exhaustion, or maybe just plain stubbornness kept me silent, and I hoisted the crate up into my arms.I really should have asked for help. But pride, exhaustion, or maybe just plain stubbornness kept me quiet. Instead, I lifted the crate into my arms, ignoring the way my back protested like it was screaming at me, and the way my vision blurred at the edges from a whole day without food.

I barely made it three steps before the world decided to tilt sideways.

The crate slipped from my grasp, and vegetables went flying across the stone floor in a chaotic mess. My knees buckled just a heartbeat later. I felt the fall more than I registered it, the floor rushing up to meet me too quickly, my body too weak and slow to catch itself.

But I never hit the ground.

Strong arms caught me, firm and steady, sweeping under my knees and shoulders before I could even gasp. The scent that enveloped me wasn’t Hunter’s, not exactly. It had that familiar thread all Silvercrest wolves shared, but it was sharper, colder, and definitely unfamiliar.

I blinked up at a face I recognized only vaguely...hard jaw, close-cropped dark hair, and those watchful eyes that seemed to miss nothing.

Elias. The Beta.

“Easy,” he said, his voice low and calm, adjusting his hold as the kitchen erupted into startled whispers around us. “You’re not eating enough.”

“I’m fine,” I managed to say, though my voice came out weaker than I’d hoped.

“You’re not,” he replied simply, already moving, carrying me toward the door without waiting for my say-so or Melissa’s.

“Put her down,” Melissa called sharply, rushing after us. “She has work to finish.”

Elias didn’t even slow down. “She’s done for today.”

“That’s not your decision to make.”

“It is,” Elias said, a hard edge creeping into his voice, “when I’m the one who’ll have to answer to the Alpha if his mate collapses from exhaustion on my watch.” He glanced down at me, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. “And believe me, he will hear about it, Melissa. One way or another.”

Melissa’s protests faded into the background as Elias carried me down the corridor, away from the kitchen,the scattered vegetables, and Melissa’s angry shouts, toward a part of the pack house I hadn’t explored yet.

“You really don’t have to do this,” I said, feeling the embarrassment catch up with the dizziness. “I can walk on my own.”

“You couldn’t even stand a couple of minutes ago,” Elias replied. “Forgive me for wanting to play it safe.”

I took a moment to study his profile as he walked, noting the tightness in his jaw and the careful way he held me, as if I might break apart if he wasn’t careful enough. There was something protective about him, a sense of restraint that felt less like obligation and more like a deeper concern, similar to what I’d sensed in Hunter before it transformed into something else entirely.

“Why do you care what happens to me?” I asked, genuinely curious.

Elias fell silent for a long moment, long enough that I wondered if he would even respond.

“Because I made a promise once,” he finally said, his voice low and almost too soft to hear, “to someone who meant a lot to this pack. And I intend to keep that promise, no matter the cost.”

Before I could ask for clarification or fully grasp the weight of his words, he stopped in front of a door I didn’t recognize—plain wood, unmarked, tucked away in a quiet corner of the corridor, far from the kitchens and the omega quarters.

Elias adjusted me in his arms, freeing one hand to knock twice on the wood.

“Rosalind,” he called out. “I need you.”

The door swung open almost instantly, revealing an older woman with silver-streaked hair and sharp, assessing eyes that quickly scanned me with practiced efficiency.

“Set her down,” Rosalind instructed, already moving to clear space on a narrow cot against the wall. “Gently.”

Elias complied, lowering me with more care than I anticipated, and as he straightened up, his gaze met mine one last time.

“Rest,” he said softly. “We’ll talk when you’re feeling better.”

As he turned to leave, I might have let him walk out without saying anything more, but Rosalind’s sharp voice sliced through the air, aimed not at me, but at him.

“Elias.” There was a sense of urgency in her tone. “Does the Alpha know she was in the east cellar today?”

I froze in place.

Elias hesitated in the doorway, his back turned to us, and the silence that followed lingered just a moment too long to be casual.

“No,” he finally replied. “And it has to stay that way. If he discovers that door unlocked, he’ll know exactly who’s been sneaking down there, and trust me, it won’t be her he comes after first.”