A lie

I was in Ethan's arms. We were happy. 

But it was a lie. 

Someone yanked me, wrenching me away from him. I reached out, desperate, but he was already smiling at someone else. The warmth in his eyes that I thought was meant for me was now for her. Everything was a lie.

She is my mate. You never meant anything to me. we were a lie. 

Every moment he spent with me—every smile, every touch—had been a lie. 

The dreams we had the promises he made, the future we weaved together is now a lie.

I was standing on the edge of a cliff, and they were there, laughing, their faces glowing with cruel smiles as they pushed me. I fell, powerless, the wind rushing past me, and all I could do was let my heart bleed. Let it cry because it was all a lie. 

"Celia!" 

Someone shouted my name, pulling me out of the nightmare. 

"Wake up!" 

The acrid smell of smoke filled my senses. My eyes fluttered open, heavy with tears, my face wet from crying so hard I could barely breathe. I gasped for air, my chest heaving, as I became aware of the chaos around me. Hands grabbed me, hauling me off the bed. 

"There's fire!" Clara shouted, there was pity with urgency in her eyes as she stared at me. did she witness my nightmare, the way I was crying? I pulled all my emotions in and assessed the situation.

The room was ablaze, flames devouring everything in sight. Heat pressed against my skin, and smoke choked the air. My legs felt weak, trembling beneath me, but Clara who was holding me didn't let go.

i coughed as smoke entered, my vision blurred by smoke and tears. Panic clawed at me, but I clung to the hands pulling me, my mind a blur of fear and confusion. 

"How did this happen?" Oliver's voice cut through the crackle of flames as he rushed into the room, his face a mix of panic and frustration. 

"How would I know?" I snapped, hastily wiping the tears from my eyes. My hands felt strange—unnaturally hot. Werewolves naturally ran warm, but this was different. My palms were scorching, almost as if I had started the fire myself. 

Oliver glared at me. "Weren't you supposed to be keeping an eye on me?" I shot back; my tone sharp despite the chaos around us. 

"Oliver, carry her out of here!" Clara's said as she pushed me to him, her voice strained but commanding. 

He stepped toward me, ready to scoop me up, but I backed away, shaking my head. "I'm not going with him. What if he drops me? I don't want to take the risk." 

His glare deepened. "Or I can leave you here to burn to a crisp in this blazing fire," he snapped, his tone dripping with sarcasm. 

"I'll walk," I shot back, my voice firm even as the smoke thickened around us, making it hard to breathe. 

"This is not the time to do this celia." Clara glared at me pulling me towards Oliver.

The heat intensified, and the fire spread rapidly, consuming everything in sight. The room was a blur of flames and smoke, my vision swimming as I coughed and struggled to steady myself. 

And then, through the chaos, another figure appeared in the doorway. The smoke swirled around him, but there was no mistaking the familiar presence. His dark hair, stark against the fiery backdrop, was unmistakable. 

My heart lurched. The Angel of Death. 

He stepped into the room, his dark eyes locking onto mine. For a moment, the raging fire and the suffocating smoke seemed to fade into the background, leaving only his commanding presence. 

Without thinking, I pushed Oliver toward the figure in the doorway. "Take him! I don't want to die yet—I'm only seventeen!" I blurted, darting behind Clara for cover. 

But even as fear gripped me, I couldn't help sneaking glances at the man—no, the angel of death. He was undeniably handsome, his dark eyes sharp and piercing even through the haze of smoke. 

"Alpha!" Clara and Oliver said in unison, bowing their heads as he stepped further into the room. 

"Alpha?" I echoed; my voice tinged with disbelief. Is he the alpha of the Silvermoon pack? Clara did say that their alpha was the one who saved me. So, he is not the angel of death? But a human? it was fortunate that the smoke was partially covering my flushed face. 

"She's very annoying and stubborn," Oliver muttered under his breath as he turned and walked out of the room, Clara following closely behind. 

The angel—the alpha—ignored them both, his gaze fixed solely on me. Without a word, he bent down and scooped me up in his arms as though I weighed nothing. 

I froze for a moment, caught off guard by his strength and how effortlessly he held me. His eyes locked onto mine, unwavering, and I couldn't help but grip his neck tightly, instinctively holding on to him. For some reason, I had no objection to holding onto him. He felt safe, as if i knew he would not let anything happen to me. 

"I'm not annoying," I said, my voice quieter now but still firm, as though I needed him to believe it. 

He didn't respond immediately, his expression unreadable as he carried me out of the burning room. 

"Or stubborn," I added quickly, hoping to fill the silence. He didn't respond, his stoic expression unchanged as he carried me out of the burning room. 

The sunlight was just breaking over the horizon, casting golden rays across the landscape. I squinted against the light, noticing several people gathered outside the house, their faces a mixture of curiosity and concern. My stomach sank when I realized where I was—right in the middle of the Silvermoon Pack's territory. 

Beside the house, we had just exited was an even larger, more imposing one. Without a word, the alpha carried me toward it. 

Despite the lingering scent of smoke clinging to him, I caught a whiff of something else—something warm, rich, and intoxicating. Before I could think it through, I buried my nose in his neck and inhaled deeply, savoring the scent. 

He froze mid-step. 

My heart sank as I realized what I'd just done. Panic surged through me, and I didn't know how to recover. Oh no, what was I thinking? Not wanting to come across as a complete creep, I shut my eyes and feigned sleep, taking slow, deliberate breaths. 

He resumed walking, but his whole body shook. I couldn't tell if he was laughing or if he was furious. Either way, I didn't dare peek to find out. 

A door creaked open, and moments later, he placed me on a soft bed. But instead of leaving, his hands remained around me, keeping me close. 

I cracked one eye open cautiously. He was staring straight at me, his gaze intense and unreadable. My heart skipped a beat as I took in his features up close. His beauty was breathtaking, almost otherworldly, and for a moment, I forgot how to breathe. 

"What?" I asked, my voice coming out quieter than I intended. 

He raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement flickering across his face. "You tell me." 

I frowned, puzzled. "You're the one holding me," he said pointedly. 

My breath hitched as I realized that I was, in fact, gripping him with both hands, clutching onto his arms as if my life depended on it. Heat rushed to my face as embarrassment overwhelmed me. 

Desperate to salvage the situation, I faked a loud yawn, stretching my arms above my head as if I had just woken from a deep sleep. "I'm so sleepy," I said dramatically, turning over and squeezing my eyes shut, hoping he would buy it. 

I prayed silently for the bed to swallow me whole.