No one dares: Alpha Derek's regret

The wizard was three nights too late when he finally reached Sterling Manor. He stood outside the iron gates, his staff sinking into the muddy ground. The silver symbols carved into the wood were fading, almost as if the staff itself was ashamed. The air smelled like rot hidden under expensive perfume the unmistakable scent of a fresh, violent death. The magical protections on the house hadn't just failed, they had been completely ignored. "A child," he whispered, narrowing his pale eyes. "Of course." Some monsters don't hunt by accident. They pick their prey years in advance. And some children are never meant to stay human for long. Inside Sterling Manor, the silence was a lie. To a stranger, the house was a masterpiece of old fashioned wealth,shiny wood, heavy velvet curtains, and the smell of beeswax. But to young Zehra, the house was alive. It breathed and pulsed with a rhythm that didn't belong to a living thing. She sat on the grand staircase, her small fingers tracing the cold wood of the railing. Other kids were afraid of the dark because of what might be there. Zehra was afraid because she knew exactly what was there. Up near the ceiling, clinging to the wall like a cloud of smoke, was a Specter. It had no face, just a shifting shadow with two glowing amber eyes that watched her every move. "Zehra? Why are you sitting in the dark again?" Her mother, Elena, appeared at the top of the stairs holding a candle. She looked like a beautiful painting, but tonight her smile was shaky, like it might break at any second. "The tall man is back, Mama," Zehra whispered. Her hand trembled as she pointed up. "He’s hungry. He says the house smells like salt and blood." Elena’s smile disappeared. She knelt down and brushed Zehra’s hair back. "Sweetheart, we’ve talked about this. The doctor said you just have a big imagination. There is no tall man. It’s just shadows from the trees." "Trees don't have teeth," Zehra said softly. "Enough." Her father’s voice rang out through the hall. Thomas Sterling walked in, shaking off his wet coat. He was a man who only believed in things he could touch or count. He had no time for ghost stories. "Elena, don't encourage her," he said. "If she keeps talking like this, the servants will gossip. We have a reputation to keep." Zehra pulled away. Above them, the Specter moved, its amber eyes glowing brighter. It fed on their fear and grew stronger because they didn't believe in it. "I'm sorry, Papa," she mumbled, looking at her shoes. "Go to bed," Thomas said. His voice was nicer now, but he didn't hug her. That night, the house turned freezing cold. Zehra lay in bed, the silk sheets feeling like ice. She was too scared to close her eyes. The Specter wasn't on the ceiling anymore. It was standing at the foot of her bed. It wasn't just a ghost, it was something ancient and mean. It leaned toward her, and she felt its voice vibrating inside her bones. The moon is crying, little wolf. The feast starts tonight. "Go away!" she sobbed, hiding under her covers. "You aren't real! Mama said so!" Suddenly, a massive crash echoed from her parents' room. It wasn't the sound of breaking glass,it was the sound of heavy oak doors being ripped off their hinges. Zehra ran. Her bare feet were silent on the floor. She reached her parents' door just as her mother screamed. It wasn't a scream of surprise, it was the sound of someone realizing their worst nightmare was true. Zehra pushed the door open just a crack. Moonlight filled the room. Her father was lying still on the floor. Standing over him was a giant creature covered in dark fur, with muscles like stone. A werewolf. The Specter hadn't been a ghost at all, it was the wolf's shadow. Its teeth were at her mother's throat. Zehra gasped. The creature froze. Slowly, it turned its head. Those same amber eyes that had watched her from the ceiling for years now looked right at her. It didn't growl. Instead, it made a low, soft sound,almost like it was happy to see her. Then, the windows shattered. Men in tactical gear burst into the room, their silver blades gleaming. "The child!" someone yelled. The wolf jumped through the broken window and disappeared into the darkness. Zehra stood alone in the moonlight and the blood. She didn't scream or cry. Her imagination had just destroyed everything she knew. The funeral was held in the pouring rain. Zehra stood between two new graves, feeling empty inside. Around her, people whispered in sympathy, but Zehra saw what they couldn't, Specters were lining the edges of the cemetery, watching her. "A tragedy," a voice said behind her. "Uncle Silas." He put his hand on her shoulder, his fingers gripping her too hard. He leaned down and whispered in her ear, "You'll come live with me now. You belong to the family." Zehra froze. Behind Silas, the rain seemed to move out of the way as a tall man in a hood stepped between the graves. He hit the ground once with a wooden staff. The Specters immediately backed away in fear. The man’s pale eyes locked onto Zehra "There you are," the wizard said softly. "Before they turn you into one of them... I have to decide whether to save you." He looked at Silas’s hand gripping her neck. "or end you."