Heartless
1072 Words
As the car disappeared down the road, Jairo stood frozen, the silence it left behind pressing against his chest. He turned slowly and walked back into the house. The door clicked shut behind him with an eerie finality.
He didn’t even make it two steps in before he heard footsteps descending the stairs.
Montserrat appeared, changed out of her earlier clothes. Her expression was unreadable.
“You okay, Dad?” she asked, brow furrowed.
“I’m fine, honey,” Jairo replied, forcing a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Where are you headed?”
“To see Alice and Ryan,” she said simply. “And… I want to check on Brian.”
Jairo nodded, his thoughts elsewhere. Montserrat stepped forward and kissed his cheek. “I won’t be home too late.”
Then she was gone.
She walked briskly to the hospital, but her pace slowed at the emergency room doors. A strange stillness clung to her.
When she arrived at Alice’s room, she stopped. Someone else was in the bed.
Confused, she headed to Ryan’s room—empty.
A nurse glanced up from her station, meeting Montserrat’s eyes. “They were moved upstairs—doctor’s orders. Rooms 101 and 102.”
Without a word, Montserrat nodded and made her way to the elevator.
She knocked gently on Alice’s door. No answer. She opened it a crack and saw her friend asleep, pale and peaceful. She shut the door quietly and turned to Ryan’s room.
“Hi,” she said softly as she entered.
“Hey,” Ryan greeted her with a tired smile.
She sat by his bed, eyes drifting to the television. The room was calm until the commercial break ended and the infamous lost tape played.
“I never thanked you for saving me,” Montserrat murmured.
“You don’t have to,” Ryan said. “But… if you want to talk about it—”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” she cut him off, eyes on the floor. “I should go check on Brian.”
She stood up abruptly.
“Monty, wait.” Ryan’s voice stopped her. “Why was the wolf after you? I want him dead because of what he did to my dad. But you—why you?”
She didn’t answer. Couldn’t.
She walked out without a word.
Brian was in the ICU. His injuries were worse than expected. Some whispered that he might never speak again.
At the nurses' station, Montserrat spotted his parents.
Brian’s mother, Lina, locked eyes with her—and the temperature of the room dropped.
“What are you doing here?” Lina snapped, voice sharp and loud.
The nurses froze. No one dared yell at the Alpha’s daughter.
“I—I came to see Brian,” Montserrat said, her voice barely above a whisper.
“My son is like that because of you!” Lina shouted, finger stabbing the air toward Montserrat.
Montserrat said nothing. She took the verbal beating like she always did—like she had to.
Greg tried to restrain his wife, but Lina kept going.
“It’s not true,” Montserrat whispered.
“What did you say?” Lina demanded.
“It’s not my fault,” Montserrat said louder, pain rising in her throat. “I called for help. No one came. Brian—he came because no one else did. He didn’t have to. But he did.”
The memory stung. Everyone had heard her scream, but no one cared to act. Not for her. Not for the Alpha’s humandaughter.
“So don’t tell me this is my fault!” she shouted, her voice cracking, before spinning on her heel and storming off.
Outside, Montserrat’s breath came in sharp bursts. She tried to calm her pounding heart. Her body trembled with exhaustion and something else—something heavier.
As she approached the house, a yawn escaped her lips. She reached for the door—
Yelp.
She froze.
Another sound—closer now.
She turned, scanning the shadows. Nothing. But the noise was there. It had been.
She followed it.
Into the woods.
The sound stopped the moment she stepped beneath the trees. She stood still, surrounded by silence.
Just owls now. Just wind.
She was turning to leave when—
Something moved.
She spun around—nothing. But the unease crawled up her spine.
Each step back felt like one step too late. The presence was there.
Watching.
Then—snap.
Her breath caught.
She was about to run when a voice—dry, raspy, ancient—cut through the night.
“What are you doing out here so late, pup?”
Montserrat turned slowly.
A short old woman stood there, wrapped in white, her black eyes empty as death. Her hair curled like smoke, streaked with silver and shadow.
Montserrat’s skin crawled.
“Don’t be afraid,” said the woman, stepping closer. “I should be the one afraid. The daughter of Alphas…”
“The human daughter,” Montserrat corrected bitterly.
The woman’s lips curled. “And what makes you think you’re human?”
Montserrat faltered. “Because I am,” she whispered, staring at the ground.
A chuckle. Low. Knowing.
“The mind forgets what the soul won’t. You don’t remember me, do you?”
Montserrat shook her head.
The woman reached forward, hands cold as ice, and placed them on Montserrat’s cheeks.
Montserrat gasped. Her eyes clouded white. Her knees buckled.
Jairo paced his office like a caged animal. Montserrat still wasn’t home.
He called the hospital—she’d already left.
Something was wrong. He could feel it.
“Dean!” he barked.
Dean entered quickly. “Alpha?”
Out on patrol, Felix spotted a strange white light in the forest. He crept closer.
Montserrat.
She stood perfectly still, eyes white as fog, her chest unmoving.
“Monty?” he whispered.
She didn’t respond.
Suddenly, she gasped, then coughed violently. Her body collapsed.
Felix rushed forward, shifting back into human form. He touched her hand—cold as snow. Her lips were tinged blue.
He threw on shorts, scooped her up, and ran.
The hospital doors flew open.
“Help!” he shouted.
Doctor Peter and a nurse rushed forward.
“This way!” the head nurse yelled, motioning them down the corridor.
Felix didn’t slow. He wouldn’t let her slip away. Not her. Not Montserrat.
- Writer
