The Ghost Lycan's Mate

"But I'm worried, Gika" my mom said through the phone, a smile blooming on my face as I arranged my wardrobe "It's fine mama" I said, smoothening the creases on a new blazer I just bought "there's nothing like ghosts or spirits. I'd rather believe a serial killer was involved in the deaths. Though that seems unlikely with the different manner in which they all died and even the..." "Gika" my mom snapped, and I clamped my mouth shut, she hated when I rambled on about murder orders and crime scenes. "Gika, I don't care about your philosophies and all, I'm just worried, three people were found dead in that apartment, three, who's to say you won't be the fourth?" She continued, worry lacing her voice Mama is always too believing, ghosts? Spirits? Just lies to manipulate people. Not that I was complaining, I got this apartment at 70% off, perfect for the current jobless me "Gika" "Mama" I replied, "it's all just a lie, but don't worry, if I sense any hint of danger, I'll leave immediately, I promise" A lie I was even lucky I was able to get an apartment like this with my budget—thanks to the rumours What mama didn't know was that her daughter had just lost her job and I wasn't ready to break that news to her This house was the only thing I had to my name now, I'd literally poured all my savings into it. If I was going to be jobless, I need to at least have a roof over my head. "Promise?" "I promise mama" When you've worked as a cop for eight years, lying comes easily. A knock came from the door "Hold on mama." I said, cutting the call as I walked through the living room. Another knock, much more hurried this time, more like pounding on the door I looked out through the peephole, and standing there was no one What the hell? I'm in no mood for pranks right now Another bang on the door and I flung it open Standing there was a middle aged woman with a basket in her hand "You're the new neighbor right?" She said. Her voice was sweet, melodious even, nothing like her age at all I nodded, skeptical She smiled and handed me a plate of cookies—they looked homemade "It's been a while since this apartment has been occupied" she said with a glint in her eyes "I hope you stay long this time" Her smile was contagious, pulling me in. I returned it with a bigger one, taking the cookies from her. "Thank you." I gestured, "I'll enjoy it." I watched her walk away, disappearing into the elevator. I sighed, closing the door. I placed the cookies on the counter and returned to unpacking, humming an old tune under my breath. The apartment felt strangely cold, even with the afternoon sun slanting through the windows. Probably poor insulation. These old buildings were always like that—cheap for a reason. As I sorted my clothes into the wardrobe, my eyes caught the new clock on the shelf. The hands sat frozen at 3:17. I tapped the glass once, twice. Nothing. "Scammed again," I muttered, shaking my head. "I'll return it first thing tomorrow. Useless piece of junk." The rest of the evening passed in a blur of boxes and decisions. By nightfall, everything had its place. I stepped out of the shower, skin still damp, and slipped into a thin nightdress. The cookies sat waiting. I grabbed one, settled on the couch with my laptop, and started scrolling through job listings. Part-time barista, data entry, anything that paid. Crunch. Not bad. Homemade, warm spices. I took another. Thud. I paused, instinctively straining my ear to listen Another thud. I glanced up at the ceiling. "Great. Noisy neighbors on day one." I went back to the screen, typing keywords. The footsteps continued—back and forth, back and forth—louder now, almost pacing. This was getting too much. I snapped the laptop close, snatching a hoodie from the chair. I threw it over my nightdress, and stepped into the hallway. The corridor lights flickered once before steadying. I walked towards the elevator, fists clenched. Then, I froze. Wait. I'm on the top floor. There was no button going up. I sighed, pressing the button for the main floor instead. It was empty. Banging on the caretaker's door, I waited. Nothing. I tried the handle—locked. There were no lights under the gap. "Perfect. Empty office too." I sighed, rubbing my temples. "Too tired for this nonsense." I muttered the whole way back upstairs. "First the cold, then the clock, now fake footsteps. This place is falling apart, not haunted." I shrugged off the hoodie, letting it drop to the floor, and jumped straight into bed. The sheets were cool against my skin. Comforting. The door creaked softly behind me, but I didn't bother turning around. Probably just the wind or bad hinges. My eyes were already closing. Sleep pulled me under fast. --------- Flames licked the corridor walls. Smoke burned my throat as I ran, my bare feet slapping against hot tiles. "Gika!" A voice shouted ahead, urgent. "This way!" I reached out, straining toward the figure in the haze. A man's hand reached out to me. Strong, steady. I grabbed it. I couldn't see his face, but his eyes... they were sharp, dark, locked on mine like they knew every secret I'd ever kept. He screamed, his voice cutting through the roar of the fire: "Wake up!" I bolted upright in bed, my heart hammering against my ribs. Sweat slicked my back. The room was dark, completely quiet except for the ragged sound of my own breathing. Then a whisper brushed my ear, low and terrifyingly close. "You're late." I whipped my head around. Empty. There was no one there. I ran a hand through my damp hair and exhaled slowly. "Dreams. Just weird dreams after a long day." I glanced at the stopped clock on the shelf. Still 3:17. I lay back down, pulling the covers up to my chin. But the whisper lingered against my ear. Warm. As though someone had been standing beside my bed all along.