All The Alpha Saw was her

The trees blurred past her in streaks of green and black, their branches clawing at her like hands trying to pull her back. Aurora didn't stop. Couldn't stop. The pain in her legs was sharp, but not as sharp as the memory of what she had just escaped.

Her bare feet slapped against the forest floor, cut open by stones and roots, sticky with mud and blood some of it hers, some of it not. The cool night air sliced through the rips in her dress, but she barely felt the cold. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears, drowning out the snapping of twigs behind her. Or was that just in her mind now? Was anyone even still chasing her?

She didn't know.

She didn't look back.

Except she did again.

And again.

Each time, her breath caught in her throat, expecting to see glowing eyes behind her. A shadow. A figure. A claw.

But all she saw were trees and darkness. Still, she didn't trust it. She had trusted before, and that had nearly gotten her killed.

Tears streamed silently down her cheeks, mixing with the blood from the small gash at her temple. Her lungs ached, her body screamed, but she forced her legs to keep moving.

"Don't stop," she whispered hoarsely, her voice barely there. "Don't stop. Don't stop..."

A branch scratched her arm, tearing open her already bruised skin. She winced, gasping, stumbling on a root but she caught herself. She wasn't going to fall. Not yet.

She didn't know how far she'd run. Hours? Minutes? The world had blurred into nothing but her fear and the will to survive. She had no destination. Just away.

Then

A flicker of light through the trees. Faint. Distant. Unbelievable.

She blinked rapidly, slowing for the first time. Her vision swam. Her head pounded. But she saw it again a soft golden glow in the distance.

A... house?

Her lips parted as a breathless sob escaped. She pushed forward, limping now, every part of her body begging her to stop. But she couldn't. Not when something anything waited ahead.

The trees began to thin. Grass replaced thick underbrush. And then, out of nowhere, it appeared:

A mansion.

Tall. Dark. Majestic. Like it had risen out of the earth just for her.

It sat there, silent and still under the moonlight, with long stone steps leading to towering double doors. Lanterns flickered faintly along the path, casting golden light over the night.

She didn't think. Her legs moved on their own.

She stumbled forward, leaping over a small patch of gravel, tripping over her own feet, catching herself again. Her sobs came harder now not just from fear anymore, but from the overwhelming weight of hope.

"Please..." she whimpered.

She could see the door now. So close. Just a few more steps.

Her vision blurred again.

No, nojust a little more.

But her body gave out.

The last thing she saw was the doorknob glinting in the moonlight just out of reach.

Then everything went black.

....

Warmth. That was the first thing Aurora noticed.

Not the chill of the forest. Not the sting of cuts or the ache in her muscles. Just soft, unfamiliar warmth. Her body felt weightless, almost like she was floating. Her eyes fluttered open slowly, blinking against the dim golden light coming from the far corner of the room.

The ceiling above her was white. Smooth. Unmoving. Her brain felt foggy, like she was underwater. She shifted slightly and felt soft sheets around her. Clean ones. A thick blanket was tucked over her body. She was no longer in the forest.

Her lips parted. For a moment, she thought she might be dead.

Then the pain returned. Not all at once, but in pieces her ribs were sore, her ankle throbbed, and her temple had a dull pulse under a clean bandage.

She wasn't dead. She was alive. But definitely not where she'd started.

She slowly pushed herself up, squinting as her eyes adjusted. The bed was massive, covered in ivory sheets and too many pillows. The room around her looked like it had been pulled from a dream. High ceilings. Velvet curtains. A fireplace across from her bed. A long mirror leaned against the wall, and beside it stood a table holding a silver tray with a glass of water and a small steaming cup.

Aurora looked down at herself. Her torn dress was gone, replaced by a soft oversized shirt. Her arms were wrapped in bandages. Her hair had been brushed and braided loosely.

Panic crept up her spine. Someone had touched her. Cleaned her. Changed her.

Where was she?

The door opened.

She froze as a tall man stepped into the room. He was older, with short grey hair combed back neatly, and he wore a dark sweater and slacks. His expression was calm, unreadable, and in his hand, he carried a fresh towel and a cup of something that smelled warm and herbal.

He stopped when he saw her awake, then gave a nod. "You're awake sooner than I expected."

Aurora didn't respond. Her back straightened slightly. She didn't recognize him.

"Who are you?" she asked immediately, her voice low and raspy.

"I'm Elias," he replied calmly. "I'm the head steward here. You've been unconscious for two days. You collapsed just outside the gates."

"Gates?" she echoed. "What gates?"

He approached the side table and placed the cup down gently. "You're safe. That's all that matters for now."

"I don't... I don't remember anything," she said, voice cracking.

Elias didn't look surprised. "Your injuries were severe. Memory loss isn't uncommon in cases like this."

"You're safe," he added, noticing the tension in her body. "No one here will harm you."

He walked slowly toward the side table and placed the towel and cup down next to the tray.

She remained silent, watching him with caution. Her fingers curled into the bedsheets.

Elias glanced at her again. "I'm not here to interrogate you. You don't need to speak if you're not ready." He straightened. "But you should know when you were found, you were unconscious, covered in blood, and alone at the estate gates. Whoever or whatever you were running from... didn't follow you here."

Aurora swallowed. Her throat was dry. Her voice came out barely audible. "Where... is here?"

"The Blackmist estate."

She frowned. "Is that... a town?"

"It's home to a pack," he answered. "A large one. You're in safe hands."

She was quiet for a long moment. Then, "Why did you help me?"

He didn't flinch. "Because someone needed to. You were bleeding. Cold. Unconscious. You made it to the gates, barely breathing. What kind of people would we be if we left you there?"

She didn't respond.

Elias stepped back toward the door.

"It will help with the pain. If you remember anything anything at all you can ask me. I'll be nearby."he said, motioning to the cup.

....

The kitchen was quiet, lit only by the under-cabinet lights and the flicker of the small lamp on the counter. The estate had fallen into its usual nighttime hush the kind that came after midnight, when even the guards were quiet in their patrols and the halls stopped echoing with footsteps.

Irene padded in barefoot, her oversized hoodie falling just below her knees, dark curls shoved into a messy bun. She rubbed her eyes with one hand and yawned loudly, not bothering to be graceful about it. The cold tiles of the kitchen floor made her wince slightly as she walked toward the fridge.

Elias was already seated at the long table near the window, a cup of tea in front of him and a small lamp casting soft light over the papers spread across the wood. He didn't look up immediately. He just spoke.

"I expected you an hour ago."

Irene groaned. "God, you always do that creepy 'I heard you coming' thing. I swear you don't sleep"

He smiled faintly. "I might ask you the same."

"I'm not working twenty-four seven," she said, opening the fridge and scanning its contents. "Besides, I'm not here for me."

"The girl?"She asked

"Ah the girl upstairs"He said

"She has woken up. Confused. Quiet. Didn't speak for a while."

"Did she say who she is?"

"No. She doesn't remember anything."

Irene paused, one hand still on the fridge door. "Seriously?"

Elias nodded. "Completely blank. Name, pack, what happened to her nothing."

Shit," she muttered under her breath, closing the fridge. She walked to the counter and unwrapped the tray, checking the food. "How's she even supposed to recover if she doesn't even know who she is?"

"She's resting. The body remembers before the mind does. Sometimes the silence is protection."

Irene didn't respond right away. She grabbed a ceramic plate from the top shelf and began transferring warm bread, roasted vegetables, and soft pieces of fruit onto it. She moved with the quiet efficiency of someone used to moving around this kitchen. Her movements weren't rushed, but she was clearly thinking.

"I saw her," she said suddenly, glancing over at Elias. "When they brought her in. She looked so... small. I didn't even think she was breathing at first."

"She was lucky she made it to the gates."

"Lucky?" Irene scoffed. "She looked like she hadn't been lucky a day in her life."

Elias didn't argue.

Irene added a small bowl of soup to the tray, then filled a clean glass with water. Her expression had changed slightly now the teasing edge had faded. She looked more serious. Thoughtful.

"Does the Alpha know ?" she asked quietly and Elias nodded

She frowned slightly, then shrugged and turned back to assembling the tray. "Maybe that's for the best. She'd probably pass out all over again if she saw him."

Elias chuckled.

....

The light slipping through the curtains was gentlenot harsh, not blinding. Just enough to touch her face and pull her from sleep. Aurora stirred slowly, her body still sore, but not as heavy as the night before. She blinked a few times, taking in the room again. The warmth, the neatness, the faint smell of something floral in the air.

It wasn't a dream. She was still here. In the same strange bed. In the same beautiful room that felt too soft to be real.

Her hand reached up, touching the side of her face where the bandage lay. Her memory still hadn't returned. Nothing clear. Just shadows and flashes. Running. Fear. Blood. Her name that, at least, had surfaced sometime during the night. She remembered it now.

Aurora.

She whispered it aloud, as if trying it on again. The word felt light on her tongue, unfamiliar and familiar all at once.

She sat up slowly, wincing slightly as the soreness flared up in her ribs. The oversized shirt she wore fell loosely around her, brushing her thighs. Someone had cared enough to clean and dress her. To treat her wounds. The glass of water on the nightstand had been refilled. The untouched food from last night had been replaced with a warm plate, now slightly cooled, but still neatly arranged.

Someone had come in again.

And she'd slept through it.

Aurora swung her legs over the edge of the bed and let her feet touch the cold floor. For a moment, she sat still, listening. No sounds from outside the room. No voices. No footsteps.

Her fingers curled into the blanket for courage, then she stood.

It felt strange walking barefoot on such smooth floors. Everything about the estate was... quiet. Polished. Elegant. It made her feel like an ink stain on a clean page.

She opened the door slowly, peeking into the hallway. It stretched in both directions, lit by soft wall lamps. No one was there. She hesitated, then stepped out. Her steps were light, careful. She didn't want to draw attention didn't want anyone to stop her or ask her questions she couldn't answer.

The hallway was long, lined with thick rugs and heavy paintings. Large windows let in soft morning light. She followed the path cautiously, turning corners slowly, passing rooms with doors half-open and some tightly shut.

At the top of a wide staircase, she paused.

The stairs curved downward in a grand spiral, like something out of an old manor. Below, the entrance hall came into view high ceilings, polished floors, tall double doors, and dark wood banisters. Everything looked expensive, untouched, and silent.

Aurora took a breath and started down.

Her footsteps were soft against the rug-lined stairs, but her heart thudded like she was breaking a rule just by walking. She didn't know if she was allowed to explore. She didn't know the rules at all.

Halfway down the staircase, she slowed when she heard voices. Distant but clear.

They came from a room to the left of the entrance hall. A woman's voice soft, familiar and a male voice, lower, more serious.

She stopped at the bottom step and backed against the wall, listening.

"I just brought her breakfast," the girl was saying. "She didn't touch it again."

"She's still adjusting," the man replied. "It'll take time."

"She looked better this morning. Less pale. Still quiet though."

There was a short pause, then the girl asked, "Are you going to tell him?"

"I already have," the man replied. "I just haven't said what I think yet."

Their voices faded, muffled as they moved deeper into the room. Aurora stepped away from the staircase quietly, heading in the opposite direction. She didn't want to interrupt. Or be seen.

She turned into a long hallway and found herself standing before tall glass doors that led outside. A small garden sat beyond them neat hedges, benches, pale flowers blooming against the morning light.

She stared through the glass for a long moment, her reflection faint in the window.

Who was she, really?

Who had she been before she ran?

She didn't remember everything. But she remembered fear. And pain. And running.

This place was strange and quiet and full of unknown people... but something in her gut told her it was safer than wherever she'd come from.

Still, a part of her wanted to run again. Not because she was in danger but because she didn't know how to exist in a place this clean. This still.

Behind her, a soft voice cleared its throat.

Aurora turned.

A girl maybe a year or two older stood in the hallway behind her, holding a cup in one hand and a faint smile on her face. She had dark brown skin, a round face with expressive eyes, and wild curls tied up loosely in a scarf. She was barefoot too.

"Hi," the girl said gently. "You're up."

Aurora blinked. She nodded slowly, unsure of what to say.

"I'm Irene," the girl said, walking closer. "I brought your food last night."

Aurora's mouth opened slightly. "I... I'm sorry. I didn't eat."

"That's okay," Irene said with a warm shrug. "You were half-dead. Most people aren't thinking about chicken and soup after a night like that."

There was no pity in her tone. Just honesty.

Aurora eyes widened as Irene stretched her hand towards her neck and brought out a necklace out of her shirt

There was a necklace on her neck with something scribbled on it

She didn't even know that was there

"Aurora"She read out loud

"That's a pretty name." She added

Aurora lowered her gaze. "I don't remember anything else."

"Elias said that might happen." Irene leaned against the wall next to her. "It'll come back. Probably when you least expect it. That's how these things work, right?"

Aurora nodded, although she wasn't sure at all.

They stood in silence for a moment. Then Irene nudged her gently with her elbow.

"Come on," she said. "Let me show you the way to the kitchen. If you're going to be wandering around, you might as well do it with food in your hand."

Aurora gave the smallest hint of a smile. It felt strange on her face.

But she followed.

For now, that was enough.