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1322 Words
The man's voice stumbled slightly as he spoke.
"The girl who ran down the hallway is… is very important. We're looking for her."
I held my breath, my back flat against the door, feeling the cold wood against my spine. My palm pressed firmly over my mouth to quiet the rushing sound of my breath in the small, dark room.
For one terrifying moment, the thought that they were looking for me made my joints go stiff.
But as the muffled conversation continued through the door, my muscles slowly loosened. The voice didn't belong to him. Not to the man I had spent the night with. Even though I hadn't heard him speak much, I remembered his voice. It was deep, controlled, and confident. The man outside sounded nothing like that. In fact, he sounded half-drunk, slurring his words like someone who had also gotten lost after the party and ended up in a wing of the estate where he wasn't supposed to be.
My shoulders relaxed slightly. Just slightly.
I kept my hand firmly over my mouth anyway, afraid even the tiny rustle of my clothes would give me away to a wolf's sharp ears.
Outside, Matilda let out a heavy, irritated sigh.
"Do you want me to help you look for this girl or what?" she asked impatiently, her voice sharp. "Because I honestly don't understand why you're knocking on my door at this hour."
"It's only three in the morning," the man replied, his tone defensive and thick with alcohol.
I could practically picture Matilda rolling her eyes. "Exactly."
"The party is still going downstairs."
"Well, that's what happens during wedding celebrations," Matilda shot back, her voice raising a notch. "My cousin is getting married. What did you expect?"
The man seemed momentarily speechless, his heavy, uneven footsteps shifting on the carpet.
Then Matilda continued. "Look, don't disturb me." Her tone became even sharper, cutting through the quiet corridor. "I don't want any trouble from anybody tonight."
A heavy silence followed.
"If you don't have anything important to say, I'm going back to bed."
There was a brief pause, the sound of her hand probably resting on her door handle, before she added firmly, "I'm going back to my room."
The hallway grew quiet for a moment, the tension thick enough to feel through the wood.
Then the man spoke again, his voice cracking slightly. "Please…"
His voice sounded almost desperate now.
I pressed my ear harder against the door, my toes curling against the floorboards as I strained to catch whatever he would say next.
"Since you're related to the bride, can you help me find her?" the man asked, his voice thick and desperate through the wooden panels of my door.
Matilda let out a loud, irritated sigh that echoed in the quiet corridor. "How exactly am I supposed to help you find someone when I don't even know who I'm looking for?"
The man didn't answer immediately.
So Matilda continued, her tone dropping into a dry, impatient drawl. "Do you have a name? Any identifying details? Anything useful? There are hundreds of people staying in this estate right now. Guests. Family members. Servants. Workers. If you want me to help, I need something more than 'a girl.'"
The man hesitated, the silence outside stretching thin. Then he said, "She has rosy lips."
I blinked in the dark room, my body freezing in place.
"She has long black silky hair," he continued.
A sudden chill ran down my neck, raising the tiny hairs on my arms.
"Blue eyes."
My breath caught in my throat.
"And there's a small beauty mark near her lips," his voice grew more intense. "Her eyebrows are well-defined, and she has an oval-shaped face."
For a few seconds, there was complete silence in the hallway.
Then Matilda let out a dry, incredulous laugh. It wasn't loud, but it carried enough sting to show how ridiculous she thought his whole speech was. "Are you sure you're okay?"
The irritation in the man's voice became obvious, vibrating even through the thick wood of my locked door. He was angry, frustrated, and running on pure desperation, though he was clearly trying to keep himself from completely blowing up.
"Why?" he asked sharply. "Will you help me find her or not?"
Matilda snorted. "You've either had too much to drink, or you've been staring at a magazine model. The description you just gave me sounds like a top model. And silky black hair? Half the women in this estate have that hairstyle." She paused, shifting her weight outside. "Ever since that pageant winner in 2025 made it popular, everybody's been copying it."
Another heavy silence settled between them.
Then Matilda sighed. "Do you have a name?"
"No."
"Anything else?"
"No."
"Then I can't help you."
The hallway fell quiet again.
Then the man spoke, his voice dropping lower. "I know her height."
Matilda sounded completely exhausted now. "Good for you."
"She's slightly taller than you."
"So are a lot of women."
A low, sharp curse slipped past the man's lips.
"I'm sorry," Matilda finally said, her tone softening just a fraction, though her patience was clearly done. "But I can't help you. If you're that determined, try another floor. Another room. Ask someone downstairs."
The second the words another room left her mouth, a jolt of pure adrenaline shot through my limbs.
I couldn't stay here. Not for another second the description fit me so well I can't let them find me here.
I rushed toward my wardrobe, the wood creaking softly as I flung the doors wide open. I dragged my travel bag from the bottom shelf, my fingers fumbling with the zipper as I stuffed clothes inside in disorganized clumps. Everything I owned went in every simple wear, every dollar of my savings, every single document. My hands were clumsy, dropping a folded shirt twice before I rammed it down into the bottom of the canvas bag. I didn't care about folding. I didn't care about order.
I just needed to be gone. Now.
When the bag was packed, I grabbed a pen and a blank sheet of paper from the small desk. My fingers felt stiff as I scrawled out a hasty note:
Mrs. Vera Calloway,
I'm sorry. You'll find my room empty tomorrow morning. Please don't worry about me. I'm safe. Don't look for me. I'll come back when I can. Thank you for everything.
I folded the paper with a quick, sharp crease and tossed it onto the wooden table, not even looking to see where it landed.
I hauled the heavy strap of the duffel bag over my shoulder. My eyes shifted directly toward the window.
There was no hesitation. No second guessing.
I crossed the room in three silent strides and pushed the glass panes open. A blast of freezing winter air rushed inside, biting my cheeks and instantly cooling the sweat on my forehead. I climbed onto the stone ledge, the freezing wind whipping my dark hair across my face.
My lungs burned with a sudden, sharp focus. It wasn't fear it was pure, raw urgency.
I couldn't let them find me. I couldn't let anyone in this estate discover what had happened last night. I couldn't let that Alpha lay a single finger on me. Not now. Not ever.
Taking a deep breath of the icy night air, I tightened my grip on the canvas strap of my bag.
Then I jumped.
I didn't care about the drop. I wasn't human anyways a fall from the second story wasn't going to break me. My knees bent to absorb the impact as my feet hit the soft dirt of the garden below, the cold mud squelching under my shoes.
Escape was the only thing that mattered now. I adjusted the weight on my shoulder, turned my face toward the dark forest beyond the Ashmere estate walls, and started running.
- Writer
