CHAPTER 8
1250 Words
X Chapter Eight X
“Sasha, what did you do to her? Did you scare her?” Havan asked as the two of them walked into the study hall, everyone definitely heard the scream the birds probably ran away from the trees.
“I did not,” Sasha replied sharply.
He pushed the doors open—only to stop when he saw a tall, intimidating man standing inside.
Andrew Ronoarh.
His father.
Andrew’s face was tense, worn from battle, but the moment he saw Sasha, his expression broke into raw relief.
“Sasha!” Andrew shouted, pulling his son into a tight embrace.
“I’ve missed you, son.”
Sasha didn’t return the warmth. His face remained emotionless.
“Yes. I’ve missed you too,” Sasha replied flatly.
Havan watched the exchange quietly. Sasha’s cold reaction wasn’t new—but it still stung every time.
“Son, the moment I heard you regained consciousness, I wanted to leave the borders immediately,” Andrew explained, “but I had matters to settle. Havan, on the other hand, ran all the way without looking back.”
“Yeah, Father,” Sasha said, his voice ice, “that’s the difference between you two. He came right away.”
Andrew only smiled—unfazed, or pretending to be.
“Well… whatever the case, I’m glad you’re awake.”
His voice softened. “Vina told me your mate was found.”
Sasha’s gaze sharpened instantly at Wren’s name.
“And by the way,” Andrew continued, “your wife never told me how she managed to find the girl.”
Sasha leaned forward slightly—interest returning.
“Well… it was the Spirit Wolf,” Andrew said. “He sought help from the Kingdom of Bodtariam. There’s an Elytran prince—Forest Sàdon—capable of bending time between universes. He was the one who located the girl from Mounty. I don’t know the rest.”
Even Havan stiffened. They’d heard of Prince Forest Sàdon, but never of abilities that powerful.
“I’ve searched so long…” Sasha whispered.
“I’ll give Bodtariam this—their prince’s power is unmatched.”
Andrew hesitated for a moment before asking quietly,
“Son… do you know who cast the curse on you?”
Sasha’s voice dropped to a lethal whisper.
“Father… if I did, you’d already be attending their funeral.”
Andrew froze.
“Right… well.”
He cleared his throat. “Take care of your health, son. I’ll leave you two.”
He stepped out.
“Sasha,” Havan said carefully, “don’t you think you’re a little harsh on your father? It seems unfair. He genuinely cares about you.”
Sasha inhaled deeply, eyes narrowing.
“Havan, have I been too lenient with you?” he said coldly.
Havan flinched. He knew better than to argue—Sasha could toss him out the window if he wanted.
“My apologies for the intrusion,” Havan said, lowering his head.
He handed Sasha a thick file—the report of everything that happened during Sasha’s absence.
Just few minutes passed in silence before Havan finally gathered the courage to speak.
“Forgive me, Alpha, but… about the girl. Your mate.”
He swallowed nervously.
“I think you should stay close to her. Talk to her. She’s confused, weak, and frightened. And you… you’re not in perfect health either.”
Havan exhaled slowly.
“If you don’t keep her close, she might try to run away, It's a fact.”
Sasha looked at havan for some seconds before taking another long sigh.
*****
"There was no way… he changed my clothes.
Oh God, I’m finished".
Wren looked down at her chest, face turning red instantly.
"They aren't that small… right?
But he thinks they are?"
Why was she even thinking about that?
“Wren, snap out of it,” she muttered to herself, gripping the blanket tighter.
“He’s a pervert. A crazy wolf-man pervert.”
Her mind raced.
Should I just escape through the window?
But the flashback of the butler and sasha' powers —and the fact that he allowed her to attend school... .
"Maybe… maybe I can run away after school. I’ll find Uriah. I just need my phone… where did I drop it?"
Her heart tightened.
“That butler must know where it is…”
She went into the bathroom and took a hot shower.
Steam drifted out of the bathroom as Wren stepped into the room, a towel wrapped tightly around her waist. Her hair dripped with water, strands clinging to her neck. She moved quickly, searching the room for the clothes Sasha promised to bring.
"Where did he put it? Oh God did he forget?"
She tiptoed around the bed, clutching the towel with one hand and opening drawers with the other.
Then—
the door swung open.
Wren froze.
Sasha stepped inside, mid-sentence.
“Wren, I brought your clo—”
His words died.
His gaze landed on her.
Not her face.
Not the floor.
Her.
Just a towel. Just her bare shoulders. Just—
Wren screamed.
“A-AHH!! GET OUT! GET OUT!”
She grabbed the closest object—a pillow—and threw it at him with all her strength.
Sasha caught it instantly, unfazed.
“You’re screaming like I haven’t already seen—”
“SHUT UP!”
Wren nearly tripped while grabbing another pillow.
“Why didn’t you knock?!”
“I did. Three times,” Sasha said, completely calm.
“You just didn’t hear it because you were too busy… dripping.”
Wren squeaked, pulling the towel higher.
“Close your eyes!” she yelled.
“I’m not blind,” Sasha said dryly.
“CLOSE THEM ANYWAY!”
He sighed like dealing with a troublesome kitten.
But—he actually turned around.
“There,” he said. “My eyes are closed. For now.”
Wren panicked, running around the room, searching for anything to cover herself with.
“Why are you even here?!” she snapped.
“I came to bring your clothes,” Sasha said, waving the folded bundle behind him.
“You know… the one I told you about.”
Wren paused.
“Oh.”
He smirked—she could hear it in his voice.
“Do you want them, or should I keep holding them until your towel falls on its own?”
“Give it!” she yelled, snatching the clothes from his hand and backing away like he was a tiger.
Sasha’s voice dipped low.
“Wren.”
“What?!”
“always keep the door locked.”
He opened his eyes finally, staring at her with that unnervingly intense gaze.
“And don’t walk around half-naked in a pack full of wolves.”
Wren clutched the clothes to her chest.
“I wasn’t half-naked. I was… ninety percent covered!”
“That ten percent is enough to start a war.”
Her eyes widened.
“You’re exaggerating.”
Sasha tilted his head, gaze dropping for one second—one deadly second.
Wren screamed again.
“GET OUT!”
This time he actually left, but not before saying:
“You’re mine, Wren. I’d prefer if no one else saw even a drop of water on your skin.”
The door clicked shut.
Wren sank to the floor, face burning red.
“AHHHHHH!”
She buried her face in the pile of clothes.
“Why does he always make me feel intense, the worst way possible?!”
- Writer
