I woke up with a scream, clutching my throat and bolting upright in bed. Sweat had molded my nightdress to my skin, a result of the chilling nightmare I had endured.
Legends claimed that disrespecting an Alpha always came with adverse consequences, but I expected those superstitious beliefs to be outdated and ineffectual by now. After all, we were in the 21st century.
Although a few details, such as packs, healers, and distinguishable titles like Alpha, Beta, and Omega, still lingered from the past, we were no longer living in an era where a single ruler-the Alpha-presided over the future of a community irrefutably. It was a free world around here, with communal rules we lived by, but nothing like the old system of leadership.
Months had passed since I had crossed paths with the Ragnar Brothers, and I had learned from Meredith that they descended from a line of powerful Alphas and were back in town for reasons known only to them.
Ever since their arrival, their reputation had instilled terror in the hearts of the locals. Their names were whispered on every local's lips, and nobody dared to gossip about them loudly for fear of repercussions. These people acted like gods who had descended out of nowhere into our town, intimidating the inhabitants with their presence.
My life hadn't improved over the months, and I was tempted to attribute my recurring nightmares to their influence. I was still the same jobless individual, working odd jobs to get by until I could secure a stable job that matched my qualifications. However, the prospect looked bleak with each passing day. Perhaps I would remain unemployed for life.
My nightmare never ceased to leave a sour taste in my mouth. My heart felt pinpricked, with pain spearing through it. I dragged my hands through my hair, releasing a frustrated breath.
In my dream, I was often chased by predatory creatures with gleaming red eyes that I couldn't make out in the darkness and blurriness. The snarls and tension had coaxed a shudder from me, and the sensation of fear still lingered, my body trembling in reaction.
I scrambled out of bed, throwing the covers aside, and stepped onto the floor of my bedroom. The small space, originally meant to be a closet or storage, had been converted into a makeshift bedroom for myself. I didn't possess many belongings, having sold most of them along with the house to clear some of my outstanding debts. Despite the few items I possessed and the small student bed I slept on, there was barely enough space to navigate around the room.
I headed out to the kitchen to cool my parched throat with a glass of water. I observed the time displayed on the grandfather clock in the corner; it was almost morning-5:30 a.m. I had no reason to wake up early, as I had no tangible commitments for the morning.
With a heavy heart, reminded of my predicament, I rinsed my cup and returned it to the cabinet. I doubted I could sleep again now that I had woken up. It often took me longer to fall asleep, unlike Meredith, who dozed off immediately once she lay beneath the covers. She could sleep through an earthquake, but I was a light sleeper; the tiniest sound could rouse me awake.
Having nothing better to do, I retrieved my phone from the bedroom and continued my job hunt, hoping I might encounter a stroke of luck. Persistence, they say, is the key to success, and one never knows when they might find the answer they've been seeking.
I headed back to the minimalist sitting room and plopped down on the retractable couch, surrounded by two armchairs and a three-seater cushion, all arranged around a short, circular dark mahogany table with sturdy, arched legs. The table sat atop a silky plush brown matte rug, while the rest of the floor featured dark marble flooring.
The house rent was substantial, and its decor was highly attractive – a testament to its price. Meredith took on the higher portion of the bills, thanks to her family's contribution, while I struggled to pay the lower half of the household expenses due to my unemployment.
I occasionally found gigs to supplement my income and avoid depending solely on Meredith, but the pay was barely enough to cover my needs. The labor was often more than the remuneration was worth, but I took on these jobs nonetheless; beggars can't be choosers.
I continued scrolling through job vacancies, searching for any opportunity I could apply for.
Meredith swept into the room later, dressed and ready for work. She looked professional and attractive in her attire, her long, shapely legs being the most captivating feature of her physique.
In contrast, I was short and curvy, with a more voluptuous figure, while she was slim and tall, with rich golden blonde hair that accentuated her enchanting blue eyes.
Meredith had the smile of an angel and the physique of a runway model, with moderate assets that made her look smart and poised in her attire. Unlike me, whose curves often jiggled or spilled out of my dresses, Meredith's elegance was effortless.
I wasn't ashamed of my figure; I was an hourglass, after all. However, I sometimes wished I could be taller and more like my friend – Barbie-replica attractive.
"Morning," Meredith chirped, her excitement infectious despite the gloom that had settled around me.
I managed a smile in response. "Morning, Meredith."
She smiled back, heading to the kitchen to prepare her usual cup of coffee before leaving for work. I listened to the whir of the percolator, focusing on my task until Meredith returned with two mugs of steaming coffee.
"Here," she said, handing me one.
"Thanks," I replied, inhaling the rich aroma before taking a sip.
"How long have you been awake?" Meredith asked, sitting down in the chair across from me as she waited for her coffee to cool. It was 6:50 a.m., and she didn't start work until 8 o'clock.
"It's been over an hour now," I replied, rubbing my undereye to relieve the strain of staring at the screen for an extended period.
"Any luck so far?"
I shook my head, a sigh escaping me. "The platform is dry." I was thinking of loading another page to continue my search when Meredith walked in.
She offered a sympathetic smile and words of encouragement. "I heard from a source that the Ragnar Brothers are employing."
I blinked, frowning in disbelief. "Again?"
Meredith shrugged. "They pay handsomely. That must be the reason why the job demands are excessively pressured."
"Or they're terrible people to work with," I countered, recalling Rosa's account. Rosa, a girl I met on one of my short-paying gigs, had mentioned working with them and broke down in tears. She claimed she had resigned after a week due to mounting pressure and was currently undergoing therapy to deal with anxiety issues triggered by her experience with the Ragnar Brothers.
Meredith twisted her mouth contemplatively when I shared Rosa's story. "I was just thinking... one man's poison is another man's cure. You can't assume you'll encounter similar challenges as another person in your career."
I raised an eyebrow at her relentless persuasion. "I've heard stories from three of the endless list of staff they've employed over the past two months. They scar people, Meredith."
"You can't tell until you try," she said, her tone unwavering.
I narrowed my eyes, wondering if her persistence was rooted in her frustration with my increasing debts. "Is this your way of telling me you're fed up with putting up with me and my financial struggles?"
Meredith's blue eyes flashed with surprise. "Kaida, I'm only looking out for you. You need money, and those jobs won't make a dent in your growing expenses. If anyone can survive working for the Ragnar Brothers, it's you. You've put them in their place once."
I recalled our encounter two months ago, where I flipped them the bird without direct confrontation. Working closely with them might mean offering myself up for retribution.
"You're stronger, determined, and have come this far despite the pressure you've dealt with," Meredith continued, her words laced with conviction. "This is an opportunity for you, and the pay is highly attractive."
Her emphasis on "highly" was not lost on me. After Meredith left for work, I sat alone in the sitting room, weighing the pros and cons.
What if I couldn't handle the pressure? What if I ended up like the others, seeking therapy?
What if I succeeded? A silent voice echoed within me, reasoning that the pay was attractive and could help me pay off my debts and get by fine.
I was already struggling financially; what more pressure could derail my mental health than my current situation?
I made up my mind: I would apply.