BOUND BY THE ALPHA’S SIN

The night screamed. Ariana’s body twisted violently beneath tangled sheets, sweat dampening her hairline. In the dark, her breath came in shallow, frantic gasps, as if she were drowning. In the depths of her mind, the world was on fire. The dream began the way it always did—too real to be only imagination, too sharp to fade with waking. The moon hung swollen and heavy, its silver glow bleeding across the clearing beyond her childhood home. The air was thick with the scent of rain and blood. Shadows darted between trees, their forms almost human but wrong—elongated, crouched, with eyes that caught the moonlight in unnatural ways. A sound split the night. Not a cry, not a growl, but a guttural roar that shook her small frame. Then came the shapes. Wolves—enormous, their coats dark as midnight, teeth bared and dripping crimson—spilled from the forest. They moved as one violent tide, their bodies sleek and terrible, their eyes bright with the madness of the hunt. Wood splintered. Screams tore through the walls. The front door exploded inward, and with it came the metallic tang of blood so strong it turned her stomach. She could see her mother’s figure, illuminated for a single heartbeat by the lightning flashing outside—her hair wild, her eyes wide with terror. Her father’s voice boomed through the chaos, shouting something she couldn’t hear. His arms wrapped around her small body, the scent of pine and steel clinging to his clothes. He carried her down the hallway, each step jarring against her ribs. Glass shattered. The air filled with snarls. Something massive slammed into them from behind, knocking her father off balance. He fell forward, twisting his body to shield her from the impact. The thud of his head hitting the floor echoed in her ears. One wolf—a giant, with fur as black as the void—stepped into view. Its eyes burned a molten gold, locking on her like a predator marking prey. The beast’s lips curled, revealing teeth long enough to crush bone. Then— The dream shifted. The sound of tearing. Her mother’s scream. Blood pooling beneath her father’s unmoving form. The golden-eyed wolf lowering its head toward her, the heat of its breath ghosting across her skin. Her pulse thundered. She could not move. She could not breathe. Its teeth opened wide. Ariana jolted upright with a gasp, the scream dying in her throat. Her heart slammed against her ribcage, rattling in time with the ragged pull of her lungs. The sheets clung to her skin, heavy with sweat. The room was dark except for the faint spill of moonlight through the cracked curtains, washing the walls in cold silver. Her hands shook as she dragged them across her face, as if she could wipe away the images burned into her mind. It was only a nightmare. That’s what she told herself every time. But her body didn’t believe it. Her pulse still raced, her muscles trembled, her throat burned with the taste of fear. The dream clung to her, sticky and relentless, like smoke that refused to fade. Swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, Ariana’s bare feet touched the cool wooden floor. She sat there, hunched forward, elbows on her knees, staring at the darkened space between her boots where a faint beam of moonlight landed. The silence of the apartment was deafening. Her breath slowed, but only slightly. The scent of pine still lingered in her head. The echo of growls curled at the edges of her hearing. Her gaze drifted to the glass of water on her nightstand. She reached for it with unsteady fingers, drinking greedily until the tightness in her throat eased. The cool liquid grounded her, pulling her a fraction away from the phantom heat of that golden-eyed stare. A faint creak in the hallway made her head snap up. Her eyes scanned the shadows. The sound came again—softer this time, almost like footsteps. She rose slowly, every muscle taut. Crossing to the door, she pressed her ear against it. Nothing but silence answered. Her lips pressed into a thin line. She forced herself to pull the door open. The hallway stretched empty before her, bathed in faint light from the streetlamp outside the window. Dust motes floated lazily in the glow, undisturbed. She let out a slow exhale and shut the door. The nightmares had been coming more often lately, each one more vivid than the last. She’d told herself it was stress—too many long shifts at the diner, too little sleep, the weight of bills stacking higher every week. But there was something in the way the dream bled into her waking mind that left her unsettled. It wasn’t like ordinary dreams. It was… familiar. She didn’t remember much about her childhood before she was eight. Everything before that was hazy, a blur of fragments—faces without names, places she couldn’t locate. But the dream felt different. Like a memory trying to surface, pulling her toward something she wasn’t ready to face. Her eyes caught her reflection in the window. Wide, storm-grey eyes stared back at her, framed by a wild curtain of dark hair. Even in the dim light, her pupils were blown wide, a predator’s gaze caught in prey’s fear. She dragged her hand through her hair, forcing herself to break the stare. The digital clock on her nightstand blinked 3:17 AM. There was no chance of sleep now. Crossing to the small kitchenette, Ariana flicked on the single overhead bulb, its yellow glow spilling across the cramped space. She filled the kettle and set it on the stove, the familiar motions calming the restless energy still racing through her veins. Her mind kept replaying the same moment—the golden eyes, locked on hers. Not just the gaze of a predator, but of something that recognized her. A sharp rap at the window startled her. Her head whipped toward it, heart lurching into her throat. But when she stepped closer, she found nothing but the wind rattling the glass. She pressed her palm to the cold surface, feeling the thrum of her pulse against it. The kettle began to whistle, breaking the moment. She poured the water over a teabag, watching the dark tendrils curl through the steaming liquid. In the quiet, the city outside seemed distant, almost unreal. But the memory of the forest—the scent of rain, the thunder of paws against the earth—remained sharp. Something in her bones whispered that it hadn’t been just a nightmare. It was a warning.