Constance's Power

Chapter 8. Under Watchful Eyes

Constance woke to the familiar coldness of the stone under her. Same gray, dusty bed of captive. But this morning, the chill seemed to cut further; even under her, the rock was freezing like pure ice. The walls felt closer, suffocating, and the silence pressed in on her like a weight. She hadn't slept much because her mind was trapped in a cycle of fear and doubt that had followed her ever since she'd joined the Nightshade Pack. Even longer. From the night, she fell off a cliff of Luna's being.

Every hour was a battle against her racing thoughts. Each shadow on the wall reminded her of the unseen dangers. As a child, her dad taught her to make a rabbit shadow with her fingers. Back then, she was just an ordinary child. Now, the shadows were hiding death and pain.

Yet today, there was a different energy in the air—something stronger and darker than before.

As usual, the guard came to pick her up for work in the packhouse. He was typically quiet and strict. Constance rose slowly, her body painfully stiff from the previous day's hard work. She had become used to the hard work, but the emotions weighed even heavier on her. The walk between houses and narrow corridors was always the same, but the uncertainty made each step a matter of life and death. The pack's animosity toward her had become more obvious, with keen, menacing glances from every corner. Today could be the day when everything came crashing down.

When they walked into the packhouse, it was already busy with wolves going about their daily business with a drive and zest for life that Constance herself couldn't muster. She received her usual cleaning supplies in silence—a basic mop and bucket that had become her reliable tools. As she dipped the mop into the soapy water and began scrubbing the floor, her thoughts drifted back to an unpleasant run-in she'd had with one of the pack members the day before. He had hissed at her, called her "wolfless," and bluntly reminded her that she didn't belong.

The memory sent a shiver down her spine. She could not avoid it, even though she tried to push it aside. The wolves in the Nightshade Pack perceived her as a threat rather than merely an outsider, and she couldn't risk forgetting that.

While working, Constance focused on staying under the radar. She kept her head down, her hands moving methodically as she mopped, even as her muscles screamed in protest. The packhouse was enormous, and the chores they assigned seemed endless. Still, it kept her occupied, providing her a much-needed distraction from her worries.

As she worked, she caught snippets of conversations among the wolves near her.

"…the Alpha's keeping an eye on her."

"For what reason? She is wolfless, poor."

"I don't know... but something feels wrong."

The comments hit a nerve, but Constance managed to keep her expression neutral, pretending not to hear. She was beginning to accept their treatment of her—as though she were a bomb ready to go off. Despite her best efforts to ignore it, their hostility followed her like a shadow, constantly reminding her of her fragile status.

Hours went by, and the packhouse started to silence as the wolves scattered across various areas of the territory. Constance found a strange kind of rhythm in her cleaning. The repetitive motions made her feel drowsy. Her hands were raw from washing, and her body hurt, but she pushed through the tiredness.

It wasn't until just past noon that she caught a glimpse of a shadow from the corner of her eye. She stopped, slightly turned her head, and stopped the mop midway between swipes. Alpha Aiden stood at the packhouse entrance. Constance felt tiny and vulnerable, as his presence seemed to be a force of gravity dragging the air from the room.

She quickly lowered her gaze, but his stare was too intense to bear. He said nothing and moved nothing; he just stood there, staring at her with a cold, rigid eye that made her stomach twist. What was going through his mind?

It felt like an eternity before Aiden finally turned and walked away. As the sound of his footsteps faded down the hall, Constance exhaled a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. She went back to work with slightly shaking hands. The brief encounter scared her and made her realize that she was always being watched and looked at closely. Constantly under scrutiny.

Soon, the packhouse grew quieter, leaving Constance to finish her work in relative peace. The wolves had gone about their business, but tension was in the air, and their whispers were still there. She couldn't escape the feeling that something was brewing, that the quiet was only temporary.

By the time she wrapped up her chores, the sun began to sink beneath the horizon. She pushed herself to gather her things and head back to the storage room. Her limbs ached with exhaustion. Just as she put the mop and bucket inside, a voice she knew broke the silence.

"Constance."

Her heart was beating fast as she quickly turned around. In the hallway, she saw a very worried Lyra.

"Lyra," Constance whispered. They were thrilled to see each other. She rushed over to her friend, trembling from the day's stress. "I thought I wouldn't see you today."

Lyra pulled her into a tight embrace. Her voice was low and anxious. "I've been keeping a low profile. But I've been hearing things. People are talking about you, and it's getting worse."

Constance wanted to scream, but she just murmured, "What are they saying?"

"They don't trust you," Lyra replied. "You're being wolfless already raised suspicions, but now… they think you're dangerous. They feel like there's more to you, especially since the Alpha chose to spare you."

A wave of helplessness can cause a storm of despair. "I don't understand it, Lyra. I've done nothing wrong."

Lyra squeezed her friend’s shoulder and added, "I know. But they don't see it that way. They think you're connected to something bigger, something they don't understand. And you know how wolves are about things they don't understand—they destroy it."

A sense of dread settled deep within Constance. Something out of her control was fueling the whispers, the glares, and the rising tensions. She ran from being rejected outcast in her home pack, but here it got worse than ever. According to Alpha Aiden, a prophecy spoke of someone who would either usher in great change or bring destruction.

"What am I supposed to do?" Constance asked. "I can't change who I am. I can't stop them from seeing me as a threat."

Lyra's face softened. "You have to be careful. We both do. We keep our heads down, stay out of trouble, and hope Alpha Aiden's interest keeps us safe—for now."

Constance nodded, though the words were hollow. How long could she not show her face when everyone was watching her so closely?