chapter 10
The afternoon shift whistle shrieked through the industrial yard, sharp enough to rattle glass.
Ferial stepped through the factory gates with her shoulders tight, muscles still remembering the rhythm of the machines.
Two weeks at home hadn’t made her miss this place, but it did feel strangely grounding to be back—like stepping into a routine she could at least predict.
Abdie was already waiting outside, leaning against a metal pole, boots dusted in cement powder and cheeks flushed from heat. When he saw her, he waved, but it wasn’t his usual easy grin. Something was pinched about his eyes.
“You walk too slow,” he called out.
“You wait too bitter,” she shot back.
He snorted and pushed off the pole. “Come, man. Security wants to close the smaller gate.”
They fell into step, weaving through crowds of workers heading toward the main road. The factories were shutting down one by one, windows blinking off, machinery grinding into silence. The sun dipped low, the late-day wind carrying sharp smells of oil, dust, and metal.
Ferial expected Abdie to talk—he always had something to say after work—but today he was strangely quiet. Too quiet. His jaw kept tightening like he was fighting words back.
She nudged him. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing.”
“Lie again,” she snapped.
He huffed. “I’m thinking.”
“That’s already dangerous.”
He didn’t laugh.
Okay, now she was concerned.
They walked past Block C housing, kids playing in the dirt, neighbors calling to one another from windows, the distant sound of a mother yelling for someone to “stop climbing that pole before I break your legs.”
Life as usual.
But Abdie was not as usual.
“Are you going to tell me,” she asked, “or must I guess?”
He inhaled sharply through his nose. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Tell you what?”
“That the Alpha noticed you.”
Ferial froze mid-step.
It was like the world dipped sideways. “What?”
He turned to her fully, eyes blazing.
“Don’t play dumb with me, Ferial. I heard them talking.”
Her heartbeat skidded. “Who?”
“Supervisors. Workers. People talk, you know. They say the Alpha that day—when they did inspections—he paused near your unit. That he asked questions. That he… looked at you.”
This time the ground really did feel like it shifted.
“That’s nonsense,” she muttered, but her voice trembled.
“Is it?” Abdie demanded.
They were in the middle of the road now, workers streaming past them. Someone bumped her shoulder, muttered an apology, kept moving.
She swallowed hard. “Abdie… you’re blowing this out of proportion.”
“Am I?” he barked. “Do you know what it means when a wolf shows interest in any human? It’s not good, Ferial. It’s never good.”
She felt heat prick behind her eyes. “He didn’t show interest.”
“Oh, so now you know what the Alpha was thinking?” Abdie snapped. “You psychic now?”
“Stop shouting at me!”
“You stop lying!”
A few people slowed, glancing at them before hurrying off again. Arguments were common in the district. No one stuck around longer than necessary.
Ferial clenched her teeth. “I’m not lying. I didn’t even see him properly. I didn’t talk to him. I didn’t do anything!”
“That’s exactly why I’m angry,” he growled. “You don’t have to do anything. You just have to exist in the wrong place at the wrong time, and wolves—especially Alphas—they latch onto things.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“No, it’s reality!” he said, voice rising again. “Do you even know how fast your life can change if someone like him decides he wants something from you?”
She stared at him, throat tight.
That was the real fear. The one she kept burying.
He took a step closer. “I’m trying to warn you, man. I’m trying to protect you.”
“I didn’t ask you to!” she spat.
“Oh, so now I’m wrong for caring?”
“I didn’t say that!”
“You implied it!”
They were both breathing hard now.
And under the shouting was something rawer—fear for her, frustration, helplessness.
She looked away, blinking fast. “Abdie… nothing happened.”
“That’s what scares me,” he said quietly.
Her breath hitched.
He wasn’t angry now. He was worried. Terrified, even.
“Two weeks,” he said. “I’ve been thinking about that night for two weeks. Thinking how easily things could have gone differently. And today? Today I hear the Alpha asked about you.”
“That doesn’t mean—”
“It means enough,” he cut in. “It means he noticed you. Wolves don’t forget what they notice.”
A shiver crawled down her spine.
She opened her mouth to respond—
—but the ground shook.
A deep, vibrating rumble rolled across the district like thunder cracking open the earth.
Ferial and Abdie snapped their heads toward the east.
Wolf patrol vehicles.
Dozens.
They barreled through the district streets—armored transport units, black military trucks, and enforcers on foot. People scattered like birds. Mothers grabbed their children. Workers stepped off the road. Doors slammed shut. Windows darkened.
Patrols never came through like this unless something was wrong.
Very wrong.
“What the hell…?” Abdie whispered.
Ferial grabbed his sleeve. “Abdie. We need to move.”
Too late.
One of the trucks slowed near them, headlights flaring bright. The enforcers moving beside it stiffened, heads turning sharply.
Straight toward Ferial.
Her stomach dropped.
Not again. Not today. Not in front of everyone.
A commanding voice cut through the air.
“Stop. That one.”
The soldiers halted instantly.
Abdie cursed under his breath and stepped protectively in front of her.
The enforcer approaching was enormous—armor thick, boots heavy, scent sharp like steel and forest. His nostrils flared.
He was scent-tracking something.
Someone.
Her?
No. Couldn’t be.
She stayed still, barely breathing.
“What’s your name?” he demanded.
Ferial’s voice was gone.
Abdie answered harshly, “Why? She didn’t do anything—”
The enforcer raised a hand. “I wasn’t speaking to you.”
Abdie’s jaw clenched.
Ferial finally managed to whisper, “F–Ferial.”
The enforcer studied her with unsettling calm. “The Alpha wants all females who fit certain traits screened for—”
Before he could finish, a sharper voice cracked from behind:
“That won’t be necessary.”
The soldiers stiffened.
Ferial’s breath froze.
The Alpha heir stepped out from behind the lead vehicle, dusk light kissing the edges of his dark armor, eyes glowing faintly gold.
He looked like something carved from shadow and cold fire—danger wrapped in stillness.
And he was staring directly at her.
Abdie muttered a curse so soft only she heard it.
The Alpha’s gaze didn’t leave her, even as he addressed the enforcer.
“She is not part of the screenings.”
“But sir—”
“That. One. Is. Exempt.”
Every word cut like a blade.
The enforcer lowered his head in submission.
Ferial felt the world tilt. Abdie grabbed her arm, steadying her.
The Alpha heir’s expression was unreadable—too calm, too focused.
He looked at her like he already knew her.
Recognized her.
Claimed something.
She stumbled back slightly, heart hammering.
Abdie stepped in front of her again, voice barely a growl. “You see what I mean, Ferial?”
The Alpha’s eyes slashed toward him with warning.
Abdie didn’t back down.
Ferial whispered, “Abdie… stop.”
But the Alpha’s gaze returned to her, steady and unnervingly sure.
“This district isn't safe tonight,” he said. “You shouldn’t be out.”
His voice was low. Controlled.
But beneath it—command thrummed.
Something in her chest tightened painfully.
Before she could respond, an explosion of sound erupted from the northern end of the district. Screams followed. More patrols raced past.
The Alpha heir turned his head, attention snapping away from her for the first time.
“Get home,” he ordered.
Then he was gone—moving with his soldiers toward the chaos.
The road vibrated with the force of their passage.
Silence dropped heavy behind them.
Ferial felt her knees weaken.
Abdie stared after the Alpha, then turned slowly to her.
His voice was hoarse. “You tell me nothing is happening again. Go ahead.”
She couldn’t.
She couldn’t say a single word.
Because for the first time… she wasn’t even sure she wanted to.