Not Alone
Gabrielle POV
Footsteps crunch behind me. Slow and deliberate.
I don't need to turn around to understand whose voice it is.
“You know,” he says mildly, “This is why humans shouldn’t wander off.”
Connor’s voice has never sounded this pleased before.
A thought rises unbidden. Most victims know their attacker.
Before I can let the thought take root, he speaks again.
“You never listen, do you? That’s what always gets girls like you into trouble.”
I stop. My lungs ache, my chest rising and falling too fast. Not just from running, but the weight of it all.
“You should have stayed where I told you,” he drawls. “They said you'd run.”
They.
My feet refuse to move as he prowls closer, unhurried. Like he has all the time in the world.
“That’s okay,” he continues lightly.
“Everyone has their place, Gabi,” he says lightly. “I might even be able to help you find yours.”
His fingers brush a loose strand of hair, tucking it back as if he thinks he has every right to touch me.
I flinch.
“Don’t.”
He smiles. His hand comes up, fingers brushing my wrist.
“Relax,” he murmurs, drawing me closer. "We can take our time."
He leans closer. Too close. My skin crawls, shuddering at the unwanted closeness.
I turn my head away instinctively, heart slamming in my chest.
“You don’t know what you are,” he whispers.
His grip tightens. Not enough to hurt me, just enough to remind me .
I think now of the cabins. The lights. How close they were. How far away they feel now.
"Don't cry little orphan. I can make it all better..."
His breath is warm against my cheek. I try to twist my face out of reach, angry tears warm my eyes.
You will not be my first kiss. An inner voice almost roars. It's then that something inside me snaps.
Not fear – fury.
I don’t scream. I don’t cry. I don’t beg.
I still.
His fingers tighten, expecting me to fold, and when I don’t – when I meet his gaze instead of shrinking from it, something unreadable flickers across his face.
My pulse roars in my ears, but beneath it, there’s something else. A pressure. Like my body is bracing for impact before my mind can catch up.
No.
The word forms without sound, but it is absolute.
My grip clenches around my necklace, knuckles whitening.
Connor hesitates. Just for a heartbeat.
And I know then, not consciously, but deep in my bones – that I am not what he thought I was.
Whatever he expected me to be…
“Huh,” he murmurs, studying me now. Curious.
“That’s new.”
His lips curl. “Guess they were right about you after all.”
Something starts simmering under my skin, but before I can speak the air changes.
Connor freezes.
He feels it too. A presence? No… a force.
The scent hits me first. I don’t hear footsteps, but I know someone is there.
And so does Connor.
My breath catches in my throat as the forest growls.
The world narrows. The breeze stills. The trees lean in. My knees tremble.
What is this?
My necklace burns against my skin.
“Step away from her.” the stranger says, his voice low but carrying.
Connor swallows. “Alpha– ”
Alpha?
“If she wanted you that close,” he adds coolly, cutting him off. “You’d already know.”
He steps closer.
“Go.”
Connor backs away without another word.
The Alpha doesn’t spare Connor another glance. His eyes are fixed on me.
The first thing I feel is not fear. I should be afraid. I'm not.
I feel… safe.
And something else I don’t dare name.
“Are you hurt?” he asks, his voice low, rough. Something flickers behind his eyes.
I nod, because I can’t speak. Not with his eyes on me.
His gaze moves over me as if he’s listening to something beneath my skin.
He doesn't touch me. He doesn't have to.
Our eyes meet and I can barely breathe. Realisation hits.
His eyes. Deep. Like fire in the forest.
I know them.
I’ve seen them in flashes, in moments I told myself were only dreams.
I shake my head, mute.
Something in my chest tightens, like a tether pulling taut between us.
“What’s your name?” he asks.
“Gabrielle,” I whisper, suddenly conscious of how breathless I sound.
His eyes search mine, like he’s looking for something only he can see.
“Gabrielle,” he repeats, as if tasting the sound.
“You should head back now,” he says gently. “You’ve all been warned to stay close to camp."
A pause, as if there's something he wants to say, but doesn't.
"I suggest you heed that warning next time.”
And then he’s gone.
As silently as he arrived.
The forest feels different now. Aware.
This is only the beginning.
The forest knows it.
And so do I.