I have been turning and tossing all night in bed because I couldn’t sleep no matter how hard I tried.
It was a struggle to sleep and I couldn’t tell what was happening to me.
The silk sheets, which had felt so incredibly soft and comforting just hours ago, now felt like stifling weight wrapping around my limbs.
Every time I closed my eyes, the silent void in my deaf ear seemed to grow louder, filling the dark room with a phantom pressure that kept my mind racing.
I rolled onto my left side, staring at the embers of the fireplace fading into grey ash.
The room was warm, but a restless, frantic energy was pulsing through my veins, making my skin prickle.
I knew I really needed to get some rest as Hazel’s dad would be running some tests on me tomorrow to figure out how to proceed with treatment.
The thought of it alone made my stomach knot with a fresh wave of anxiety.
They were going to poke at my shattered ribs, examine the wet gash behind my skull, and scan the dead nerves in my ear.
If I showed up to the clinic completely exhausted and hollowed out from a lack of sleep, I wouldn’t have the strength to handle whatever truths the diagnostics uncovered.
Realizing that staring at the dark ceiling wasn’t going to fix the pacing inside my head, I carefully slid out from beneath the duvets.
My bare feet sank into the carpet, the cool air of the room instantly hitting my skin through my new pajamas.
I needed a distraction.
I needed something to ground my senses and stop the frantic ticking of the clock in my mind.
I quietly cracked the door open and stepped out into the quiet hallway to get a glass of water from the kitchen, and then maybe walk a bit to see if I would tire myself out.
The cold air in the corridor washed over my face, helping to clear the stifling fog in my lungs.
I kept my chin tucked tight against my collarbone, my ear tilted forward to track the empty space while my the deaf side remained completely blind to the darkness around me.
The pack house was so quiet that if you dropped a pin on the floor you could literally hear the sound of it.
Everyone was probably asleep now.
There were no boots scraping down the corridors, no clinking bottles of cheap whiskey, and no snarls echoing from the common rooms.
It was a holy, pristine kind of quiet that felt entirely sacred compared to the chaotic prison of Silver Ridge.
I walked slowly down the path, my steps completely silent, letting the chill of the air slowly soothe the ache in my muscles.
As I passed a slightly open door which Hazel had told me was the Alpha’s private study during our tour, I could hear Alpha Alexander talking quietly.
I froze instantly on the thick runner, my foot hovering in mid-air.
The thin crack of golden light spilling from the door cut across the dark hallway floor like a blade.
I didn’t know who he was talking to, but the fact I was hearing only his voice meant he was on a call with someone.
His tone was a low, dangerous, and incredibly controlled baritone that rattled right through the wood and into the soles of my feet.
“What do you mean he filed a case against me for kidnapping?” Alexander spoke, his voice dropping into a freezing register that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
“Did he really think I was going to leave her there with them?”
My blood ran completely cold.
A sharp, paralyzing jolt of panic struck my chest, completely stealing the breath right out of my lungs.
I clutched the wood paneling of the hallway wall just to keep my knees from buckling under the sudden weight of the terror.
Kidnapping.
The word echoed inside my head like a siren.
I realized he was probably, most definitely talking about me.
There was no other ward, no other unranked orphan he had pulled out of a valley of monsters just days ago.
My mind began to fracture with a thousand frantic questions.
Who was it on the other line, and who filed the case against him?
The answer hit my stomach like a bucket of ice water before I could even voice it.
Klaus.
It had to be Klaus.
The son had inherited his father’s throne, and he wasn’t wasting a single second.
He was already using the legal loopholes of the High Priest Council to drag me back into the dark.
He was twisting the rescue into a crime, trying to force them to return the living evidence of their violations right back into their blood-stained hands.
I wanted to stay and hear the rest of it.
My fingers tightened against the polished wood of the frame, my ear straining against the crack in the door, desperate to hear the voice on the other end.
I needed to know if the Council elders were believing the lie.
I needed to know if the transport trucks were going to roll backward down the mountain pass to drop me right back onto the concrete floor of my shack.
But as I stood there in the dark, my heart was hammering violently against my fragile ribs, a sudden wave of reality hit my brain.
I realized I was eavesdropping, and that was very bad and wrong of me.
I was a guest under their roof, wearing the clothes they bought me and sleeping in their pack.
If Alpha Alexander or one of his guards caught me lurking in the shadows, listening to his business, the freedom I had spent my time celebrating would vanish in a second.
I forced my locked muscles to move, ripping myself away from the door.
I quickly made my way to the kitchen, my bare feet flying across the cold tiled floors of the lower level as I tried to outrun the suffocating panic clawing at my throat.
My hands were shaking so violently that the glass cup clicked loudly against the metal faucet as I filled it with water.
I downed the liquid in three frantic gulps, the cold shock of it doing nothing to cool the terror burning in my chest.
Klaus was coming for me.
Even with Alpha Richard in a cage, the valley was still reaching out its claws to drag me back.
I couldn’t go back upstairs to that silent bedroom.
The walls would feel like a trap, and the bed would feel like a target.
I needed open air, fresh air.
I needed a space where I could see the sky and breathe without feeling like the ceiling was collapsing over my head.
Leaving the empty glass on the counter, I decided to make my way to the Rose Garden that Hazel had showed me.
I pushed open the glass side doors of the pack house, stepping out into the freezing night air.
The garden was very beautiful and easily my best place in the pack.
Hazel had explained during our tour that the previous Luna had spent decades cultivating the rare, midnight-colored roses that climbed up the stone arches.
In the dark, the petals looked like velvet, absorbing the soft silver light of the moon.
The air out here was completely crisp, laden with the rich, intoxicating scent of damp earth, winter pine, and sweet floral nectar.
It was a stunning, peaceful sanctuary that felt completely disconnected from the rest of the pack.
I navigated the winding stone paths carefully, using my situational awareness to trace the shadows until I reached the center of the display.
I sat on a long cement bench there, overlooking the garden.
The stone was freezing against my skin, the cold biting through my pyjamas, but the physical discomfort was a relief.
It kept my mind from fracturing under the weight of Klaus’s kidnapping case.
I clutched my arms tightly across my chest, tucking my chin into the collar of the pyjamas watching the silver moonlight dance across the leaves.
Let him try, I thought stubbornly, a tiny, rare spark of anger cutting through the panic.
Let him file whatever cases he wants.
I am not going back.
I stayed there for what felt like hours, listening to the gentle whistle of the wind through the rose bushes, the quiet of the night slowly working its way into my soul.
The rhythmic, steady rustle of the leaves acted like a lullaby, gradually draining the remaining adrenaline from my system.
My eyelids began to feel incredibly heavy, the physical and emotional exhaustion of the last twenty-four hours finally collapsing over my shoulders like a thick blanket.
After a while, sleep started setting in.
My vision began to blur, the dark shapes of the rose arches melting into a soft, hazy shadow.
I tried to force myself to stand up, to pull my freezing limbs off the stone bench and make the long walk back up the three flights of stairs to my room, but my body simply refused to listen to my brain.
My muscles felt like melted lead, heavy and completely frozen against the concrete seat.
Being so tired and not wanting to move my body after finally getting sleepy, I decided to sleep out there in the Rose garden.
I knew it was freezing.
I knew Hazel would probably scold me in the morning for exposing my fragile, healing body to the sharp mountain frost.
But the thought of moving, of breaking the peace that had finally settled over my mind, was entirely impossible.
I slowly let my shoulder slide down against the curved stone backrest, curling my legs up onto the bench as much as my fractured ribs would allow.
I buried my face into the sleeves of my pyjamas, breathing in the faint, lingering trace of rose.
This is getting interesting.
What could Klaus possibly be plotting.