Chapter 10
1328 Words
Aria's POV
The doorknob clicked behind me with a soft finality, sealing the heat inside. I rolled my eyes as sweat traced the curve of my spine beneath my blouse. Of course, the room felt like an oven. No surprise there. This pack house couldn’t regulate temperature if its life depended on it.
I slipped off my heels one after the other with my toes, letting them clatter to the floor. The echo felt too sharp, too hollow. Something was…off. I took a step forward, squinting into the semi-darkness. The creamy curtains I know I left open earlier were now drawn shut, swallowing the moonlight I had counted on to air the place out.
My brows pulled together. I knew I’d opened the window. Wide, even. I remember pausing before the meeting, taking in the crisp air and the quiet sound of leaves brushing each other like secrets passed in the breeze.
But now it was shut. Drapes to the floor like a final curtain call.
A sigh slipped from my lips, partly annoyed, partly… unsettled. My bare feet padded across the wooden floor with a soft whisper. I reached for the curtain.
And just like that, something brushed past my back.
I froze.
It wasn’t the kind of brush you could pass off as a draft. No, this was deliberate. Cold. Close. Human—or not.
I turned slowly, deliberately, my heart hammering like it wanted to punch its way out of my chest. My eyes scanned every corner of the room, the shadows, the edges where the wall met the ceiling, the crack under the door. Nothing. No one.
Still, I whispered, “Who’s there?”
No answer. Just the sound of my own breathing, shallow and tight. My fingers twitched at my sides.
“I swear, if someone’s playing games…” I started, voice low, hoping it didn’t tremble as much as I felt it did. “Not the day for it. Try me.”
Silence.
I turned back to the curtain, exhaling hard through my nose. One yank, and the window would be open. Let in the air, chase the suffocation away.
I reached out.
SLAP!
My hand flew back instinctively. Pain bloomed across my knuckles as if I’d reached into fire. What the actual—?
“What the—” I stumbled backward. My heel caught on the edge of the rug, and I nearly toppled. “Oh, hell no.”
I shot toward the wall, hand outstretched for the light switch. I needed to see. Whatever this was, I needed light. Now.
SLAP!
Again, the same sensation. Like an invisible hand smacking mine away. My palm stung, fingertips tingling.
“Oh, we’re doing this now?” I growled, my sass finding its footing through my fear. “You think you’re slick? Slapping my hands like I’m some toddler in a candy store?”
Still no response. Just the thick air and the whisper of my blood rushing in my ears.
I narrowed my eyes. “Come out. Right now. I’m serious. If you don’t, I swear on the goddess, I will scream bloody murder. I’ll wake up the whole damn pack.”
A silence thicker than before stretched out. Then—
“He has given you the freedom to follow him to a meeting that involves respected dignitaries.”
The voice was clear, measured. Feminine.
I stopped breathing.
No, seriously—my lungs forgot how to function.
Because that voice? It wasn’t in my head. It wasn’t whispered from the hallway.
It was here.
In the room.
With me.
And the worst part? I didn’t recognize it.
My spine straightened like someone had pulled an invisible string. “What?” I asked, too stunned to fake bravery now.
The voice repeated nothing. The silence returned, but it felt alive. Like someone was still there, watching, enjoying my confusion.
“I said—what the hell do you mean?” My voice cracked, but I stepped forward anyway. “Who are you? You don’t get to break into my space, slap my damn hands, and throw cryptic one-liners like a dollar-store fortune teller. You better start explaining—”
Nothing.
“Oh, this is real cute,” I muttered, brushing sweaty strands off my face. “First, you stalk me in my own room, and now you're pulling the ‘mysterious ghost’ act. How original.”
I spun back toward the curtain. “You know what? Screw it. I’m opening the damn window—”
“You don’t deserve him.”
The voice again.
This time, closer.
Right behind me.
I didn’t move. Couldn’t. My knees locked, and every muscle in my body buzzed with terrified tension.
“He gives you chances. And still, you keep playing the fool, he is going to use you like others, after giving him a heur, he will kill you.”
My lips parted but no sound came out.
“You think you’re clever. You think just because you’re pretty, or bold, or different, you belong here?”
I turned.
She was there.
Finally—there.
Standing just beneath the dim moonlight that bled through a crack in the curtain. Her face was half-shadowed, but her eyes burned like the center of a flame—bright, knowing, cruel.
She was wearing my dress.
The same white dress I had tossed on the armchair earlier today.
“I said…” she continued softly, her tone like velvet rubbed the wrong way. “You don’t deserve him, I hate seeing breeders around him”
I blinked. “Who the hell are you?”
A smirk tugged her lips. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
“Oh, honey, don’t play cryptic with me. You broke into my room. You played ‘phantom slap’ on my wrists. You’re wearing my dress. You better have a damn explanation or I swear—”
“You’ll what?” she cut in. “Scream? Fight me? Call for him?”
That struck a nerve. I clenched my fists. “Try me.”
She tilted her head. “You really don’t get it, do you? While you were out there… being his little shadow… he made a choice.”
My chest tightened. “What choice?”
She leaned in slightly. “He picked who’s useful. Who understands how things really work. He doesn’t need a mouthy distraction with attitude issues.”
“Oh, is that what you think I am?” I snapped, stepping forward. “A distraction? Woman with no level, I blame my stepmother for this rubbish, the only distraction here is you, with your drama and stolen fashion sense.”
She laughed. Laughed. Like we were two girlfriends bickering over boys and clothes.
I gritted my teeth. “Get out of my room.”
Her gaze flicked toward the curtain. “You still don’t get it. This isn’t your room. It’s borrowed. Like everything else you have.”
My heart raced. I felt the threat under her words, but couldn’t place her game. “You clearly want something. Attention? A scene? I’ve got time.”
She raised a brow. “You’ve already wasted too much of his.”
Something burned in my chest at that. My fingers itched to smack that smug expression off her face. But I didn’t move. Not yet.
I needed answers, not a catfight.
“He trusts me,” I said slowly. “I was at the meeting because he trusts me. Respect me.”
Her smile faltered for the first time. Brief. Barely noticeable.
Then she shrugged. “For now. Let’s see how long that lasts once he hears what you’ve been hiding.”
My blood went cold. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Another smirk. “Figure it out, Aria.”
With
that, she stepped backward, and I heard the switch click, the light turned on.
I saw her.
I don't even know her but she looks beautiful.
Who are you?
- Writer
