Prisoner Of The Alpha

The Whispering Night

The evening wind carried a strange scent that made Anong pause as she crossed the path between the training yard and the main hall. It was faint, like burnt leaves mixed with something sweeter. Her nose wasn’t as sharp as the werewolves, but she had learned enough to know when something wasn’t right.

She turned around and glanced at the forest that bordered the camp. Nothing moved, but the trees felt darker somehow. Like they were watching her.

That night, she couldn't sleep.

The moon was only a thin slice in the sky, but it gave enough light to cast moving shadows across her room. She wrapped herself in the thin blanket and sat by the window. Her arm still ached from the mark, but the skin was healing well.

Suddenly, she heard it.

A whisper.

At first, she thought it was the wind. But it came again, low and soft, almost like a voice calling her name.

"Anong..."

Her blood turned cold.

She moved away from the window and grabbed the training stick she kept by her bed. Her hands trembled, but she stepped toward the door and opened it slowly. The hallway was quiet. The guards had likely changed shifts.

She crept out, bare feet silent on the stone floor.

Following the whisper.

It led her toward the back of the camp, where the old shrine stood. The shrine was small, a forgotten place made of stone and moss, with dried offerings left on its steps. It wasn’t a place anyone visited often.

She stepped closer.

The whisper stopped.

Then, from the shadows behind the shrine, someone moved.

She raised her stick, heart racing. "Who is there?"

A figure stepped out. Tall, cloaked in dark grey, face hidden by a hood.

"You don’t belong here," the voice said. It was deep and sharp, not like Phayu's calm one. This voice held power—but not the kind that comforted.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"A warning."

He took one step closer. The light caught part of his face—not fully human. His eyes glowed faintly gold.

"Leave this place. The Alpha can’t protect you forever."

"I didn’t ask him to."

The figure chuckled. "That’s why you’re useful. You don’t see it yet, but you’re a c***k in his control."

She tightened her grip on the stick. "You don’t scare me."

"You should be scared. Not of me, but of what’s coming."

A rustle behind her.

She turned sharply, but saw nothing. When she looked back, the figure was gone.

Gone like smoke.

She stood there, frozen for a moment, before running back to her room. She locked the door and slid the bolt into place.

The next morning, Phayu summoned her.

She didn’t speak as she walked into his room, her heart still pounding from the night before.

He noticed. "You look like you didn’t sleep."

"I didn’t," she said. "Someone came last night."

That got his attention. He stood straighter. "Who?"

She shook her head. "I don’t know. He wore a hood. Said I was a c***k in your control."

Phayu frowned. He turned to Orasa, who stood quietly at the wall.

"Double the night guards. Check the shrine. And search the forest edge."

Orasa bowed and left.

Phayu turned back to Anong. "Why were you near the shrine?"

"I followed a whisper. I thought I was going mad."

"You’re not mad."

He sat down and looked at her like he was trying to solve a puzzle.

"They’re testing boundaries. They want to know if you're weak."

"And am I?"

"No," he said.

She blinked.

"You’re stubborn, you’re mouthy, you never follow rules—but you’re not weak."

She didn’t know if it was a compliment or a warning.

Later that day, the camp was tense. Guards moved faster. Eyes watched every corner. Training was cut short, and the younger wolves were kept close.

Anong sat alone during lunch. No one joined her. Even Orasa didn’t stop by.

When the sun began to set, Phayu came to her room.

"Pack meeting tonight," he said.

"Am I invited?"

"You live here, don’t you?"

She followed him.

The meeting took place in the center of the camp, around the large fire pit. Wolves of all ranks gathered, from warriors to scouts to kitchen workers. The flame crackled as Phayu stepped forward.

"There was a breach last night," he said. His voice echoed. "Someone entered our ground and spoke to the girl. This is not just a challenge—this is a message."

Murmurs filled the air.

He raised his hand.

"We are not weak. We are not scared. But we will be smart. No one moves alone. Night patrols will double. The border will be sealed until further notice."

His eyes swept across the crowd.

"Anyone found helping outsiders will be punished. Pack law stands."

Then his eyes landed on Anong.

For a moment, everything was quiet.

Then he said, "She wears the mark. She is under my protection. If anyone touches her, they answer to me."

And just like that, every eye turned to her.

She felt small. Exposed.

But she didn’t look away.

Later that night, as she sat by her window again, she wondered what that strange man meant. Why was she a c***k? Why her?

She had no powers.

No blood ties to this world.

And yet, something about her threatened the order here.

She touched the mark on her arm.

The wind whispered again.

But this time, she stayed where she was.