chapter 4
The morning light came too early. A pale ray of sun crept between the thin curtains of their apartment, barely chasing away the cold that had settled in overnight. Ferial was half-asleep on the broken couch, her injured hand pressed against her chest, the burn throbbing like a heartbeat.
A sharp knock jolted her awake.
“Ferial! Open up! Come on, wake your grandparents!”
She groaned, recognizing the voice. “Abdie?”
The door creaked as she stumbled to open it, blinking blearily. Her friend stood there wide-eyed, panting, his jacket half-buttoned, face lit with a mixture of panic and disbelief.
“What’s going on?” she mumbled.
“They’re coming,” he said. “The Alpha. The heir. The enforcers. Here.”
She frowned. “What do you mean ‘here’?”
“I mean our building!” he hissed. “They announced it over the patrol speakers. The Alpha heir’s inspection team is going through selected housing blocks from yesterday’s event—and ours is on the list!”
Her grandmother stirred from the bed, her white hair frizzy and loose. “Inspection?” she repeated, blinking. “For what?”
“To ‘see how humans live,’ apparently,” Abdie said, still catching his breath. “They’re bringing cameras, food parcels, the works. We’re supposed to be on our best behavior.”
“Best behavior?” her grandfather muttered dryly, pulling on his worn shirt. “We live in a one-room box. What more do they want from us?”
Abdie shrugged helplessly. “Just… be polite, I guess.”
Ferial’s stomach tightened. The memory of the Alpha’s speech yesterday—the confidence in his voice, the way the screens showed him towering above everyone—flashed in her mind. “You’re serious?” she asked.
“As serious as a wolf’s bite,” Abdie replied. “They’re only a few blocks away. Patrols are clearing the street already.”
Outside, faint orders echoed through the alleys—wolf voices barking commands. “Civilians inside! Stay clear of the main road!”
Ferial’s grandmother immediately began straightening things, muttering under her breath. “By the Goddess, we can’t have them see this mess. Ferial, fix your hair! Wipe that table!”
“Gran, they don’t care what we look like,” Ferial protested, grabbing a rag anyway.
Her grandfather chuckled softly. “Let her have her moment. If the Goddess herself was visiting, she’d do the same.”
They had barely set the room in order when the first knock came—three firm, authoritative taps that made the entire wall tremble.
Ferial froze. Abdie quietly slipped out on the small apartment porch, whispering, “I’ll wait outside—I’m not getting caught in a camera frame looking this ugly.”
Before she could respond, the door opened.
Several enforcers filled the doorway—tall, broad, in clean black uniforms. Their badges glinted under the light. Behind them came a cameraman and a reporter, both wolves, speaking softly into microphones. Then, finally, him.
The Alpha heir stepped into the small apartment.
He was younger than she expected, maybe late twenties, with sharp gray-blue eyes that seemed to take in everything at once. His uniform was crisp, military-style, his posture straight, controlled—but his gaze lingered. On her.
For a moment, the room felt too small, the air too heavy.
Her grandmother greeted them nervously, bowing slightly. “Welcome Alpha. Forgive our humble home.”
The Alpha inclined his head. “No forgiveness needed. We appreciate your cooperation.” His voice was smooth—calm, yet powerful enough that even her grandfather, who rarely looked impressed, straightened up.
While the camera crew set up, other wolves entered, bringing boxes of goods—fresh meat, flour, blankets, even soap. They handed them to her grandparents, speaking loudly for the camera.
“Supplies for the district families most in need,” one of the enforcers said. “A gift from the Alpha heir himself.”
Her grandmother’s eyes shimmered. “Thank you, my Alpha. Truly.”
The Alpha nodded politely, but his attention had already shifted.
Ferial stood by the small counter, clutching her bandaged hand. When his gaze met hers, it was like a silent pull—startling and strangely unshakable. His eyes trailed briefly to the burn, then back to her face.
“You were injured,” he said. Not a question, but an observation.
She hesitated. “Yes, sir. At the factory.”
One of the wolves nearby murmured something, but the Alpha didn’t respond.
He stepped further in, looking around the cramped space, his expression unreadable.
The cameraman filmed discreetly from the corner, capturing everything—the smallness, the peeling walls, the humans trying to smile despite it all.
Her grandfather cleared his throat. “We thank you for visiting us, my Alpha. It’s been long since anyone of your kind stepped foot in this building.”
The Alpha’s jaw tightened slightly. “That will change,” he said, his tone soft but certain.
Her grandmother smiled faintly. “The Goddess will bless your kindness.”
The wolves exchanged glances, some rolling their eyes, others trying not to laugh. The Alpha didn’t. His gaze flicked toward Ferial again—and lingered just long enough for her to look away.
Then it was over. They handed out the remaining items, took a few pictures, and stepped back into the hall. The sound of boots echoed down the stairwell as the entourage moved to the next apartment.
When the door finally closed, the silence felt almost unreal.
Her grandmother clutched the new blanket to her chest, whispering a prayer. “We must share this blessing,” she said suddenly, already dividing the meat. “The Jalin family downstairs has not eaten in days.”
Her grandfather nodded, smiling faintly. “You have a good heart, woman.”
Ferial leaned against the counter, heart still pounding. The Alpha’s eyes haunted her—steady, piercing, almost curious. The other wolves’ stares had been different: calculating, speculative, like they’d seen something they shouldn’t have.
She shook her head, trying to shake it off.
Later, she found Abdie outside sitting on the cracked steps, watching the sun rise higher through the smog.
“Well, you survived and I climbed down the side of this building,” he said. “Did they break your furniture or your spirit?”
“Both still intact,” she replied with a small smile, lowering herself beside him.
The air smelled faintly of dust and cooked meat. Wolves were still walking through the narrow streets, inspecting buildings, their presence both strange and terrifying.
Abdie nudged her. “You notice how many cameras they brought? Like they’re making a movie.”
She snorted. “Yeah, ‘Wolves Save the Helpless.’ Coming soon to a screen near you.”
They both laughed, but her laughter was forced. Every time she glanced down the road, she could feel it—the Alpha’s gaze, the memory of it at least, clinging to her skin like static.
As they sat in the patch of sunlight, the enforcers passed again, heading for their vehicles. One of them looked right at her. Another whispered something to his companion, who chuckled.
Abdie frowned. “What’s their problem?”
“Nothing,” she said quickly, standing. “Let’s just go inside.”
He followed, though his eyes stayed suspicious. “You sure?”
“Yeah,” she lied.
Inside, the mood was completely different. Her grandmother was humming, her face glowing with joy as she cooked. The smell of real meat and vegetables filled the room—a smell so rare in their world it felt sacred.
“Look what they gave us,” her grandmother said proudly. “Enough to feed us for a week—and I’ve sent some to our neighbors too. The Goddess will bless them for their mercy.”
Ferial smiled softly, though her mind was elsewhere.
She ate slowly, the warmth of the meal easing the chill in her bones. Her grandparents talked about the visit, about how the Alpha had looked “like a true leader,” about the kindness of the wolves who carried the boxes.
She didn’t interrupt. She couldn’t.
Her hand, though, had worsened. The bandage was damp, the skin beneath red and blistered. She tried to hide it beneath the tablecloth, but her grandmother noticed anyway.
“You should go back to the clinic tomorrow,” she said. “That burn looks angry.”
Ferial nodded absentmindedly.
Outside, the sound of engines rumbled as the wolves’ convoy finally left the district. But in her mind, their eyes hadn’t.
And somewhere deep down, where she didn’t dare say it out loud, she knew—
something had changed.
Something she didn’t understand yet,
and maybe didn’t want to.