Chapter Eight
The house was too quiet.
The kind of quiet that didn’t soothe, just pressed in—thick and terrifying.
Shelly lay in bed, eyes open, breath shallow. She hadn’t truly slept in days, not without dreams pulling her back into that old room, the blood on the floor, the breath on her neck. Tonight was no different.
Only now, there was something else under her skin. A hum. A presence. Like the night itself was breathing around her.
She rolled over, clutching the pillow tighter.
> A wolf. One of them.
That man from the restaurant. The way the air changed when he entered. The quiet certainty in his eyes. She had known, even before her mind could name it.
And the Alpha…Andy—his silence, his precision.
She didn’t know if it was possession. A warning. A threat.
Or something deeper—something that hummed beneath language.
---
Across the hallway, Lucy paced.
She couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t sit still. The curfew had clamped down like a collar, and Raymond scent was in the air again—ghosting through the windows like a taunt. Plus, she could smell traces of HIM!
It made her itch.
Her wolf was clawing just beneath the skin, furious, restless.
She pressed her hands against the wall and tried to breathe.
> Don’t shift. Don’t shift.
But her wolf didn’t listen. Not tonight. Not with the moon rising and HIS and Raymonds scent trailing like a song through every corner of the house.
Her nails lengthened first. Eyes golden. Then the ripple of bone beneath skin.
> Just a little. Just a brush. Just one nuzzle—
She stumbled toward the door, half-shifted, trembling.
The handle was in reach when—
A hand slammed against the frame beside her head.
> “No.”
Andy’s voice was low and cold.
She didn’t see him come in. Just felt him. Solid. Sharp. Cold.
His presence pushed the wolf back like a tide rolling over fire.
> “You don’t get to lose control in this house,” he said.
> “I didn’t mean to,” she choked out, halfway between woman and beast. “I just—I need—”
> “I know what you need,” he snapped. Then softer, “But not like this. Not to her.”
Behind the door, Shelly stirred in her sleep, caught in the middle of a dream, heart racing.
She didn’t wake. But she felt the weight shift outside her room.
---
Later, when the Alpha’s sister had shifted back, curled in shame against the kitchen wall, he sat beside her. Silent for a long time.
> “You smell like guilt,” she whispered.
> “You smell like chaos,” he replied.
They both chuckled, quietly. Bitterly.
---
And in her room, Shelly finally slipped into real sleep.
But the dream didn’t end.
She was in the woods again. The forest burned silver.
And in the distance, two wolves circled each other—
One broken, one wild.
And neither of them looked away from her.