Chapter 4: The First Crack
1091 Words
Lena's POV
He believes me.
I sit on his floor, wrapped in his blanket, waiting for the catch. Waiting for him to laugh and say just kidding, you're insane, guards take her away.
But Axel just stares at me with those grey eyes.
And I realize he's not joking.
"Tell me everything," he says.
"That's a lot of everything."
"We have time." He leans back in his chair. "You're not leaving this room until I say so, remember?"
Right. Captive. Almost forgot.
I pull the blanket tighter. It smells like him. Pine. Coffee. Something warm underneath. I try not to notice.
"I started seeing things when I was seven," I say. "Small stuff. A bird dying. A storm coming. My mom thought I was lying for attention."
"Was she a seer too?"
"No." My throat tightens. "Just mean."
Axel's jaw tightens. He doesn't say sorry. Doesn't offer fake sympathy. Just nods and waits.
I hate how much I appreciate that.
"The older I got, the stronger they became," I continue. "Accidents. Fights. Deaths." My voice drops. "I saved my first life when I was twelve. A hunter walking into a rogue trap. I screamed at him to stop. He did. Everyone thought it was coincidence."
"But you knew."
"But I knew." I hug my knees to my chest. "I've been saving people for seven years, Axel. No one ever notices. No one says thank you. They just... move on."
"Then why do it?"
The question catches me off guard.
"Because I can," I say finally. "If I see someone dying and I don't do anything... that makes me a monster. Not the visions. The silence."
Something shifts in his expression. Softens, maybe. Or cracks.
I can't tell.
---
He stands up suddenly. Walks to his closet and pulls out a black hoodie. Worn soft. He tosses it to me.
"Put that on. You're still shaking."
"I'm not—" I look down at my hands.
They're trembling. I didn't even notice.
"Oh."
"You don't eat enough either," he adds. "I can see your collarbones from across the room."
"That's creepy."
"That's observant." He grabs his jacket. "I'm getting food. Don't leave."
"Where would I go? You locked the door."
He pauses. Looks back at me.
"Fair point."
Then he's gone.
---
I should use this time to look for a way out.
Check the windows. Test the lock. Find a weapon.
Instead, I put on his hoodie.
It's huge. The sleeves swallow my hands. The hem falls past my hips. I pull the collar up to my nose and inhale.
Stop it. Stop being weird.
But I don't take it off.
I walk to the window. The pack territory spreads out below—cabins, training grounds, the frozen river where I saved those kids this morning. Wolves move between buildings like ants.
None of them look up.
They never looked up.
I was always the shadow wolf. The quiet one. The girl who sat in the back and never spoke unless spoken to.
And now I'm in the Alpha's bedroom, wearing his hoodie, waiting for him to bring me breakfast.
What is my life.
---
The door opens. Axel walks in with two plates piled high—eggs, toast, bacon, some kind of potato situation. He sets them on the small table.
"Sit," he says.
"I'm not a dog."
"You could've fooled me."
I sit.
He sits across from me. Starts eating like he hasn't seen food in weeks. I pick at my eggs.
"You need to eat," he says without looking up.
"I'm not hungry."
"Lena."
Something about the way he says my name—not sharp, not soft, just present—makes me pick up my fork.
I take a bite.
Then another.
He doesn't say anything. Just keeps eating. But I catch him watching me between bites. Grey eyes tracking the way I chew, the way I swallow, the way I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.
"What?" I ask.
"Nothing."
"That's not a nothing look."
"It's a 'you have food on your face' look."
I touch my cheek. "Did I get it?"
"No."
He reaches across the table and wipes a crumb from the corner of my mouth with his thumb.
My breath stops.
His thumb lingers for half a second longer than necessary. His eyes drop to my lips.
The bond pulls between us—warm and sharp and terrifying.
He kills me.
In the vision, he kills me.
Remember.
I jerk back. My chair scrapes against the floor.
Axel's hand falls. His expression doesn't change, but something in his eyes goes cold.
"Sorry," I whisper.
"Don't apologize." He stands. Takes his plate to the sink. "I shouldn't have—"
"It's fine."
"It's not fine." He grips the edge of the counter. His shoulders are tight. "You rejected me. You had your reasons. I need to respect that."
"Even if you don't agree with it?"
He turns around. Grey eyes meet mine.
"Even if I don't agree with it."
The silence between us is heavy. Not angry. Just... heavy.
---
"I should go back to my old den," I say quietly. "The pack needs to see you're not keeping me prisoner."
"You are a prisoner."
"Technically."
He almost smiles. Almost.
"One more day," he says. "Then I'll take you back. But you stay in this room until I figure out what to do with you."
"Figure out what to do with me? I'm not a problem to solve."
"No," he agrees. "You're not."
He walks past me toward the door. Pauses with his hand on the frame.
"For what it's worth," he says without turning around, "I'm sorry. For whatever I do in your vision. For whoever I become."
"You haven't done it yet."
"But I will." He looks back at me. His grey eyes are dark. "That's what visions mean, right? The future is fixed."
I open my mouth to say yes.
But something stops me.
Because for the first time, looking at him—really looking—I notice something I missed before.
In my vision, his eyes were empty.
Right now, his eyes are full.
Full of guilt. Full of confusion. Full of something that looks terrifyingly like hope.
"The future isn't fixed," I hear myself say.
He raises an eyebrow.
"I don't know that yet," I admit. "But maybe... maybe it's not."
Axel nods slowly.
Then he leaves.
And I'm alone in his room, wearing his hoodie, wondering if I just lied to him or told the truth.
- Writer
