Chapter Five: The Whisper Room
1044 Words
The house was quiet.
Too quiet.
Sabrina’s wolf senses didn’t miss it—the air felt heavier. Like the walls were listening.
She sat still on the velvet couch of the Hale mansion, her hands brushing the old carvings on the armrest. Isaac had been gone for an hour now, claiming a “business call.” But business, she knew, always meant blood in his world.
The fireplace crackled. Shadows danced.
She hated waiting. Wolves don’t wait.
But something was wrong, and her instincts screamed louder than the silence around her.
She stood, every move slow, calculated. Her dagger was strapped to her thigh beneath the black silk robe she had borrowed. Her clothes were drying from the night rain, but now, she wished she hadn’t taken them off.
She walked deeper into the hallway, passing a row of closed doors. Her heart beat louder with every step.
Then, she felt it.
That scent.
Blood.
But not human.
Vampire.
Fresh.
She turned the knob of the last door on the left.
Locked.
She stared at it, her mind racing. Then—click.
It unlocked by itself.
The hair on the back of her neck rose.
She stepped in.
The room was dim, lit only by a red lamp. There were no windows—only mirrors. A dozen mirrors lined every wall, reflecting her image again and again until it made her dizzy.
In the middle of the room was a single wooden chair.
Strapped to it was a man.
Dead.
His throat was torn out, and carved into his chest was a symbol—a crescent moon with a line slashing through it.
Sabrina’s heart dropped. That mark...
It was from her past. From before she became an assassin. From the Order.
The Order of the Crescent.
They were supposed to be gone. She had burned them down. Killed the last Elder herself. Or so she thought.
Footsteps.
Behind her.
Fast.
She spun.
Isaac.
His eyes were dark, like ink. His shirt stained with blood. His lip had a cut, slowly healing. But it wasn’t his wounds that scared her.
It was the way he looked at the body.
Not surprised.
Not horrified.
Calm.
“I told you not to go snooping,” he said softly.
Sabrina stepped back, hand going to her thigh. “Who is he?”
Isaac didn’t move. “A traitor. He sold my name to a rival clan. I handled it.”
“But that symbol—” she whispered.
“I know what it means,” he interrupted. “You’re not the only one with secrets, Sabrina.”
She narrowed her eyes. “What are you hiding?”
He walked toward her. She didn’t flinch, but she was ready to strike.
“I was part of the Order too,” he said, voice low. “Before I was turned. Before I was a Hale.”
Her hand dropped from her dagger.
“What?”
“I was their shadow,” Isaac said. “They trained me before I became what I am now. I thought they were dead too… but this mark, it means they’re watching us.”
Sabrina’s blood ran cold.
“They're watching me,” she said. “They know I betrayed them.”
Isaac looked at her with something strange in his eyes. Not fear.
Regret.
“I need to show you something,” he said.
He led her down a spiral staircase hidden behind a bookshelf. They entered a dark basement—walls lined with weapons, files, and photographs.
He handed her a picture.
A girl.
Her face was familiar.
Too familiar.
It was her. But younger. Maybe fifteen. Dressed in white, standing in the middle of a forest, surrounded by masked men.
She dropped it.
“That’s not real,” she whispered.
“I think it is,” Isaac said.
Sabrina stared at him, her voice shaking. “That can’t be me. I’ve never been in that forest.”
Isaac bent down, picked up the photo. “That’s the thing, Sabrina. Someone erased your memories.”
She felt her breath leave her.
“I found medical files,” he continued, walking to a shelf. “From a doctor—Dr. Renic. A psychologist hired by the Order. His notes say they performed memory reconstruction on one of their assassin trainees… initials S.C.”
Sabrina’s heart slammed against her chest.
“I—I don’t remember any of this.”
“You weren’t supposed to,” Isaac said. “But I think you were more than just a killer for them. I think… you were part of something deeper.”
He pulled out a second file.
Inside, a list of names.
All dead.
Crossed out.
Except one.
Hers.
“Why am I the last one?” she asked, voice hollow.
“Because you survived something you weren’t meant to,” Isaac said. “And now they want you back.”
She looked down at her hands, trembling.
What had they made her do?
Why couldn’t she remember?
And then it hit her.
“Isaac… what if I’ve already done something? Something bad. Something I can’t remember.”
Isaac stepped closer. “Then we find the truth. Together.”
She looked up at him, eyes fierce. “You’d really stay with me? Even if I’m the monster?”
He gave a broken smile. “You say that like I’m not one too.”
Their eyes locked.
In that moment, they weren’t vampire and wolf.
Not spy and assassin.
Just two broken people with too much blood on their hands and too many ghosts in their minds.
They kissed.
Not gentle.
It was pain and fire and fear and longing.
And just as quickly, it ended.
Because above them, the house shook.
An explosion.
They ran.
Smoke filled the air as flames rose from the east wing of the mansion.
Sabrina’s eyes glowed gold. Isaac’s fangs dropped.
And from the fire, a figure stepped out.
A woman.
Pale, with silver eyes.
Sabrina’s body froze.
“Elara,” she breathed.
Isaac grabbed her arm. “You know her?”
Sabrina didn’t answer.
Because deep inside her head, a voice whispered.
“Come home, little wolf. We remember everything… even what you tried to forget.”
- Writer
