Chapter 3 Amelia

My breathing grew shallow, my chest tightening with the strain of keeping my eyes open for so long. My vision wavered, the room around me shifting as tears welled up, pooling in the corners of my eyes. I swallowed hard, trying to focus on anything but the unbearable urge to blink.

It was no use.

My lashes trembled, the muscles around my eyes weakening as they struggled to keep open. And then, with a sharp, involuntary flutter, I blinked. Once.

It felt like defeat. A single tear slipped down my cheek, hot and betraying my resistance. My body had given in before my mind was ready to accept it.

I blinked again, this time a flood of moisture gathering in my eyes, the sting from before now accompanied by the bitter taste of resignation. I couldn't deny it anymore. This was real.

Woodson's expression remained as calm as ever, but I felt the shift in the air. He knew it too. His gaze, still unrelenting, seemed to say: I told you so.

"Could you both leave us?" Woodson's voice finally broke the tense silence, low and commanding. I noticed a shocked expression etched on Selene's face when he said that ."But K-"

"Please Selene. I'll see you soon." He looked at her with a look I could only describe as soft, and then I was overcome by shock. The shock at how gentle and pleading he sounded towards Selene. It brought me to the conclusion that she must be really dear to him.

There's a pensive look on her face for a moment before she stands up and begins to leave, not even sparing me a glance. The pale guy followed he behind, offering me a tight smile as he passed. The moment the door shut, the room felt impossibly larger. The air was thick, heavy with an unspoken tension between us. I stood there, my heart still hammering in my chest, unable to shake the sensation that I was walking into a trap, even though there was nowhere left to run.

Woodson remained seated, his gaze still fixed on me, unmoving. His expression, although calm, was unreadable, like a puzzle I couldn't quite decipher. His silence weighed on me, and I struggled to find something-anything-to say, but the words were caught in my throat.

The room, with all its elegance and grandeur, felt suddenly stifling. I wanted to turn and run, to escape this moment, but my feet wouldn't move. Every instinct screamed at me to flee, but I was trapped by more than just the walls around me-I was trapped by him.

He finally spoke, his voice as steady as his gaze, but now softer, almost curious. "You're afraid."

It wasn't a question. It was a statement, one that carried an undeniable truth. My mouth opened to argue, to deny it, but I closed it again. He was right, and there was no use pretending otherwise. My fear was palpable, and I could feel it radiating off me.

I didn't know how to respond, so I didn't. Silence stretched between us, and with every second that passed, the knot in my stomach tightened. His eyes never left mine, and I felt like I was under a microscope, like he could see every thought I was trying so hard to keep hidden.

"I won't hurt you," he said after a moment, his tone soft, but there was something about the way he said it that didn't fully convince me.

I won't hurt you.

But you already have. He had hurt me the moment he tore me from my world, from my plans, from everything I had ever known. He had hurt me by bringing me here and chaining me to this nightmare. Like a monster. My mind screamed these thoughts, but I stayed silent.

But I have already heard your thoughts.

My eyes widened, astonished and creeped out at the fact that I was still hearing his voice in my head. The fact that it was real. How was he doing that? How was he talking in my head?

Woodson stood up then, slowly, his tall, broad form dominating the space between us. His movement was graceful, almost predatory, and I instinctively took a step back. His eyes flicked to my feet and then back to my face, the faintest trace of a smirk appearing at the corner of his mouth.

"Do you really think I'm a monster?" His voice was low, almost a whisper now, as if we were sharing a secret.

I stared at him, unsure of how to answer. He had called himself The Ardent, had paraded around as the most powerful Alpha in all of Shadow Brook, had taken me against my will-what else was I supposed to think? But looking into his eyes now, there was something more, something deeper that I couldn't understand.

"I don't know what to think," I finally admitted, my voice shaky. "You haven't exactly given me much of a reason to trust you."

Woodson took a step closer, and I felt my pulse quicken. He wasn't threatening, but there was an undeniable power in his presence that made it impossible to relax.

"You think trust is given, just like that?" he asked, his voice laced with curiosity. "It's earned, Reve. And so is fear."

I swallowed hard; my throat suddenly dry. "And what have you earned, Woodson? My fear?"

His lips curled into a small smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Perhaps. But you'll see in time. Fear is just the beginning."

I didn't fully understand what he meant, but the way he said it sent a shiver down my spine. There was a confidence in his words, an unsettling certainty that made me feel powerless. I hated that feeling, hated him for causing it.

"What do you want from me?" I whispered, my voice barely audible. It was the question that had haunted me since he brought me here, since the night when everything changed. What could someone like him possibly want from someone like me?

His gaze sharpened, a flicker of disdain crossing his face. "Do you have memory loss? It was only two weeks ago when I told you-you are my... wife." The way he said wife made my cheeks burn with embarrassment. There was disgust in his tone, disbelief, as if the very idea repulsed him.

"Yes... you're right," he continued, as though reading my thoughts. "I can't believe it either."

"Stop it!" My voice came out sharper than I intended, my hands clutching my head.

"What am I doing?" he asked, his expression unreadable. Yet, I could see it-the amusement lurking beneath the surface. He was enjoying this, toying with me like I was some game.

"Reading my thoughts! Stop it!"

"You've accepted that I can," he replied smoothly. "Good. But it's you who leaves your thoughts wide open. I'm just reading what's already there."

I clenched my fists, frustration boiling in my chest. I didn't understand what he meant, and at this point, I didn't care. All I wanted was to be free of this nightmare.

"Please, let me go," I whispered, my voice cracking with desperation. "I'm not your wife. I'm not fit to be anyone's wife. I turn eighteen in three weeks. I just... I want to go home." My voice broke as a tear slipped down my cheek. The weight of it all-the confusion, the disbelief-crushed me. I didn't belong here. I never did.

His eyes darkened, and for a moment, I thought I saw anger flash across his face. "You want to return to the place where they hit you? Abused you? Diminished you?" His voice was sharp, cutting through the fragile resolve I'd tried to build. "You prefer that world to this?"

"Yes," I whispered, my voice barely steady. "I'm not fit to be here. Please. I promise I won't tell anyone."

A low, humorless laugh escaped his lips, chilling me to the bone.

"Do you even have anybody to go back to?" he asked. The words hit me like a punch to the gut because they were true. I didn't have anyone. I was alone. Still, I would have chosen that over this.

"It's your will to return to the human world, isn't it?"

"Yes," I answered without hesitation, my voice firm despite the storm of emotions swirling inside me.

For the briefest second, his features hardened with anger, but then he nodded, stepping closer.

"Then your will shall be granted."

In the blink of an eye, a figure I hadn't noticed before materialized at the edge of the room. Their hand touched my head, and in an instant, the world dissolved into darkness.