chapter 12
Night settled thick and heavy over the district, the kind of night that pressed down instead of quieting. Even after the patrols finally cleared out, the building felt wrong—air too tight, walls too thin, shadows too nervous.
Ferial barely slept.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the Alpha heir’s face—the sharpness of his attention, the way his head tilted like he was listening to something no one else could hear.
She felt again the heat of his hand brushing her arm, even though he hadn’t touched her.
She felt the heavy pull of something she did not understand, something that frightened her more than the patrols ever could.
By the time dawn crept in, she was exhausted and jittery.
Work was no better.
People stared. Whispered. Pretended not to whisper. The factory floor smelled of metal, oil, and old sweat, just like always, but it felt different—like the whole place had heard what happened. Or sensed it. Or smelled it on her.
Her one supervisor Miss Tala, they rotated, walked straight toward her the second she stepped in.
“Ferial,” she said sharply.
Oh no.
Ferial straightened. “Yes, ma’am?”
Then Miss Tala did something entirely unexpected.
She smiled.
A real smile. Well—half a smile. The other half was confusion.
“Welcome back,” she said. “Two weeks is a long time. We expected… paperwork. Or an official notice.”
“I know,” Ferial said softly. “I didn’t think they’d approve the leave. Also I was told by the other supervisor that the Alpha personally came to the factory. So he was the official notice. ”
“Well.” Tala folded her arms, lowering her voice. “The Alpha did yes.”
Ferial blinked. “Sorry—who?” She was beying sarcastic at this point, given her werewolf supervisors always had it out for their human workers.
“Don’t pretend you didn’t hear.” Tala leaned in slightly. “I said yes, the Alpha came to the factory after your friend Abdie submited your leave forms. Yesterday morning, he came again. Asked about your leave. Said it needed to be processed urgently and whether you were paid already.”
Ferial’s blood iced.
She shook her head. “Miss Tala, you must be mistaken. It wasn’t—”
“He didn’t give me room to argue.” Tala scoffed. “And who argues with the man who commands all wolves in the sector? He signed the authorization right here.” She tapped her clipboard like it still held the Alpha’s signature. “We don’t question people like him.”
Ferial tried to breathe, but the air felt wrong again.
“He… asked about me?” she whispered.
“Asked. Ordered. Same thing.”
Ferial’s heart thudded hard enough that it hurt.
Tala gave her a once-over. “You’re pale. If you’re sick again, tell me now. The Alpha wasn’t subtle—he made it clear we’re to be… accommodating.”
Accommodating.
She hated the word.
Why is he paying attention to me?
She forced a smile. “I’m fine, ma’am. Just tired.”
“Good. Clock in.”
Work dragged, hours thick and heavy. Machines clanged, belts hummed, metal screamed as it was cut into shape. But Ferial couldn’t focus—her hands trembled, her mind replayed every moment of the last two days.
The Alpha watching her.
Exempting her.
Coming to the factory.
Nothing about it was normal.
By the time the shift ended, she was drained.
Abdie waited outside the gates, hood up, pacing like he was trying to burn a hole into the concrete. When he saw her, his shoulders softened—just a little.
“You look worse than yesterday,” he said.
“Thank you,” Ferial muttered. “Very supportive.”
They started walking, blending into the steady stream of exhausted workers heading toward the housing blocks.
But Abdie wasn’t distracted today. He kept glancing at her, jaw flexing.
“You okay?” he finally asked.
“No.”
“At least you’re honest.”
They walked in silence for a while until they reached the stretch of cracked pavement between blocks where wolves rarely patrolled. Normally it was a place that felt safe.
Not today.
As they passed the broken fence behind the old school building, a sudden howl burst from the northern road—sharp, urgent, close.
Ferial froze.
Abdie did too.
More howls answered. Boots hit pavement. A truck engine roared to life.
“What now?” Abdie muttered.
The patrol trucks didn’t usually come through here. This wasn’t a key route. But today the engines barreled straight toward the block like a warning shot.
People scattered.
Doors slammed.
Mothers grabbed children by the collar.
By instinct, Ferial stepped back—
Straight into the open road.
A patrol vehicle screeched around the corner.
Abdie grabbed her arm. “Move!”
But she was already moving—and the wrong way.
The headlights hit her full on.
The world went white.
The tires shrieked as the driver braked hard, the vehicle skidding sideways. Papers flew from the back. A soldier shouted. The entire truck lurched to a stop inches from her knees.
Ferial stood frozen, breath ripped out of her lungs.
The soldiers jumped out, enraged.
“You stupid human!” one yelled. “Can you not—”
He stopped mid-sentence.
His nostrils flared.
His expression changed.
Alarm? Recognition? Something else?
Abdie stepped in front of her. “She didn’t do anything! The road was—”
The soldier cut him off with a glare sharp enough to slice.
“What’s your name?” he demanded.
Before she could answer, something happened behind them.
Another vehicle screeched to a halt.
The Alpha heir stepped out.
Just like that.
No warning. No buildup.
No chance to breathe.
He walked forward with the kind of authority that bent the air around him. His soldiers straightened immediately. The shouting stopped. The entire street seemed to shrink.
Abdie whispered, “Oh, hell no…”
The Alpha’s eyes locked onto Ferial instantly.
Like he had known exactly where she was.
Exactly what she would do.
Exactly that she would be in danger.
He walked past the soldiers without acknowledging them.
“Are you hurt?” he asked, voice deep and steady.
Ferial’s lips parted but no sound came out.
He stepped closer. Too close. Close enough that she could feel the heat rolling off him, mingled with the cold burn of dominance.
“Ferial,” he said, her name sounding different in his mouth—sharper, owned. “Did they frighten you?”
Abdie let out a strangled sound.
The soldiers stared.
Ferial’s knees nearly buckled.
She shook her head. “No. I just—I didn’t see the truck.”
A single muscle in his jaw flexed. He turned on the soldiers.
“You nearly hit her.”
One flinched. “Alpha, she stepped into the road—”
“And you didn’t scent her?” he growled.
Scent her?
Ferial’s stomach twisted.
The soldiers bowed their heads immediately, throats bared.
“Our mistake, Alpha.”
“It won’t happen again.”
“It better not,” he said.
Then he turned back to her.
Eyes softer.
Voice calmer.
But presence overwhelming.
“You shouldn’t walk home alone,” he murmured.
Abdie stepped between them. “She isn’t alone.”
The Alpha’s gaze flicked to him—calm, indifferent, deadly.
“Her safety is not your responsibility,” he said.
Abdie swallowed but didn’t back down. “She’s my bestie basically my sister.”
The Alpha considered that.
Then:
“Then you should know better than to let her walk near patrol routes when the district is unstable.”
Abdie stiffened.
Ferial finally found her voice. “What’s happening? Why are there so many patrols today?”
The Alpha looked at her for a long moment, weighing something, almost deciding it.
Then he said:
“There was a breach. Someone—or something—crossed into this sector from the northern border.”
Ferial’s skin prickled.
Abdie whispered, “That’s impossible.”
The Alpha heir didn’t blink. “It’s happening.”
A wind swept down the empty road, carrying dust and the faint, haunting echo of distant howls.
He stepped closer.
“Go home.” His voice dropped, intimate and terrifying. “Stay inside. And if anything feels wrong, you call for me.”
“I don’t have your number not even that thing called a phone,” she whispered before she could stop herself.
His lips twitched—almost a smile, but not gentle.
“You won’t need it.”
She shivered.
Abdie grabbed her wrist again. “Come, Ferial.”
For once, she didn’t resist.
But as they walked away, Ferial risked one last glance over her shoulder.
The Alpha heir was still watching her.
Not like a man.
Like a predator waiting for something only he understood.
And Ferial knew—
Whatever was coming into the district…
It wasn’t just danger.
It was him.