Chapter 69: Chapter 69
The door creaked when it opened, slow, deliberate, like the sound itself was meant to crawl into my chest and twist tight around my heart. I froze where I was, hunched at the far corner of the room, my knees drawn up against my chest as if I could curl into myself and vanish. My whole body was trembling. I didn’t even want to look but I couldn’t help it. He was there The Psycho Alpha. He didn’t step inside. He didn’t speak. He only stood in the doorway, framed by the dim light of the corridor, his tall shadow spilling into my room and stretching across the floor until it nearly touched me. His eyes found mine instantly, and the weight of that gaze was so heavy I thought my bones might snap beneath it.
I couldn’t breathe. I could only sit there, shaking so violently my teeth almost chattered, as he watched me. Watched me like a hunter sizing up prey he already owned. My lips began to move before I realized it. Silent words. A whisper, not meant for him. God, please. Please, don’t let him come closer. Please, I don’t want to die here. Please keep him away from me.
The words tumbled through my head, spilling from my heart faster than I could form them. I pressed my forehead against my knees, squeezing my eyes shut. If I couldn’t see him, maybe he would disappear. If I prayed hard enough, maybe God would hear me and drag him away.
But the silence stretched on.
And I could still feel his eyes on me. Slowly, reluctantly, I lifted my head again. He hadn’t moved. He was still there at the door, his body motionless, his expression unreadable. Not a smile. Not a frown. Just that unnerving stillness, like he had all the time in the world to stand there and let me crumble under the weight of his presence. My chest rose and fell in shallow gasps. I wanted to beg him to leave, but the words clung to my throat and refused to come out. What if speaking shattered the stillness and brought something worse? What if my voice was the spark that lit his madness?
Please, God. Please...
I folded my hands together tightly, pressing them against my knees. I had never prayed so desperately before, not even in my worst nights of beatings, not even when I thought I wouldn’t live to see the morning. My entire soul poured into the silent pleas, every shred of strength I had left clinging to the hope that God would keep me hidden from the Alpha’s cruelty.
The seconds dragged into minutes. And still, the crazy psycho did not move. Instead
he was studying me I knew it. Measuring every twitch, every shiver, every flicker of my gaze. He fed on it. My fear was the only thing filling the room, and he was drinking it in, savoring it like it was his favorite wine.
I could feel the sweat beading at my temples, sliding down my neck. My arms ached from holding myself so tightly, but I couldn’t loosen them. I couldn’t let go. If I let go, I would shatter. I dared a glance upward, just for a heartbeat, to see if he was still there and he was.
His head tilted ever so slightly, the faintest curve tugging at his lips. Not a smile. Not quite. But enough to tell me he knew. He knew I was praying. He knew I was begging for someone else’s strength because I had none left of my own. And that small twist of his mouth said he found it amusing.
My stomach dropped. Tears pricked my eyes, hot and blurring the edges of his silhouette. I bit my lip hard to keep from sobbing, the metallic taste of blood filling my mouth. I couldn’t give him that satisfaction. I couldn’t let him hear me cry. But the harder I tried, the worse it got. My chest was heaving now, and a broken sound escaped me anyway, muffled against my knees. His eyes never left me. I wanted him to shout. I wanted him to rage, to snarl, to do something anything that would let me know what was coming. But this silence, this unbearable waiting, it was worse than any of his taunts. At least when he spoke, I could hear the edges of his madness. Now, with him standing there in silence, I couldn’t tell if he meant to strike, to laugh, or to simply keep me pinned with fear until I lost my mind completely.
Minutes stretched into an eternity. I lost count of how many times I whispered please inside my head. Lost track of how long I rocked back and forth, small, desperate motions like a child hiding from a nightmare.
And then he finally moved.
Just a shift of his shoulders at first, his hand brushing against the frame of the door. My heart nearly stopped. My whole body went rigid. If he stepped inside, I knew I would collapse. I had no strength left to endure whatever he planned. But he didn’t step in.
He stayed where he was, watching me for a few seconds longer. His head tilted again, almost as if he were satisfied. As though this had been a test, and I had failed exactly the way he wanted me to. And then, without a word, he turned and walked away. The sound of his footsteps was unhurried, calm, echoing down the hall as though he had simply finished a casual visit. The door creaked shut behind him, the faint click of it settling back into place nearly deafening in the silence that followed. For a moment, I didn’t move. I couldn’t. My body remained frozen in that curled position, my arms locked around my knees, my breath still trembling out in shallow gasps. It was only when the silence grew too deep, when I realized he was truly gone, that the tears spilled over. I buried my face against my knees and sobbed quietly, my prayers collapsing into broken thanks and desperate fear. Relief surged through me, but it was hollow, fragile. Because I knew this wasn’t mercy.
He hadn’t left me alone out of kindness. He had left because he wanted me to sit in this room and remember the way he stood there, silent, watching, until I thought I’d go mad. And that thought would never leave me. oh God! How do I get out of this damn book and get back to my life? He was gone. I told myself that again and again, forcing the words into my head like a mantra. He’s gone. He left. He isn’t here. But the echo of his gaze lingered. The heavy weight of it clung to my skin like frost. Even now, alone in the room, I swore I could feel it on the back of my neck. At last, when my body began to ache from being held so tightly, I pushed myself up. My legs quivered beneath me as I staggered toward the narrow bed. Each step felt like stepping onto cracking ice, as if the floor might give way and send me plunging straight into darkness. I pulled the thin blanket around me, clutching it against my chest as though its frail fabric could shield me from him, from everything. I lay down, curling onto my side. My muscles refused to relax; every inch of me was stiff, my heartbeat loud and wild against my ribs. My eyes fixed on the door, half-expecting it to swing open again. He’s gone. He left. He isn’t here. I whispered it under my breath until the words blurred into nothing. Slowly, my eyelids grew heavy. My body wanted sleep desperately but my mind wouldn’t surrender. The silence was too loud. At first it was only the sound of my breathing, uneven and shallow. Then came the faintest creak. I snapped my eyes wide open, my chest jerking. My gaze darted to the door, but it hadn’t moved. The handle sat still, untouched. The shadows in the corners didn’t shift. It’s nothing. Just the wood settling. Just the house breathing. I squeezed my eyes shut again, clinging to the blanket.
But then I heard it again closer this time. A whisper of sound, like the brush of a foot dragging across the floorboards. My whole body froze. The hairs at the back of my neck prickled upright. My mind screamed at me to look, to check the room, to be sure but terror pinned me down.
And then I thought I heard my name. Soft. Barely there. A whisper so faint I almost believed it was my own breath echoing back at me. Ellie My chest locked. My lips parted, gasping in silent air. My eyes flickered wildly across the shadows of the room, but there was no one. Nothing. Just the darkness and the fragile moonlight spilling across the floor.
I pressed my hands over my ears, shaking my head violently. "Stop," I whispered hoarsely. "Stop. Stop." My voice cracked, trembling like the rest of me. But the silence didn’t stop. It shifted. It breathed. A creak near the window. A sigh along the wall. A faint tap-tap, like fingers drumming lightly against wood. I squeezed my eyes tighter, tears slipping out against my will. It isn’t real. It isn’t real. He’s gone. He left. But I couldn’t stop hearing him. The echo of his voice replayed in my head, over and over, soft and mocking. Careful, little one. You might break your leg. You wanted them gone. You wanted to be alone with me. I shook harder, curling tighter beneath the blanket, dragging it over my head like a child hiding from monsters. My breaths came fast, suffocating inside the fabric. The blanket clung damp against my face from sweat and tears, but I didn’t dare throw it off. The noises kept coming. The floorboards creaked again. A sighing sound at the door. Then, the faintest knock so light it might have been the pulse in my own ears, but I heard it. I swore I heard it. I bit my lip until it bled, muffling the sob that tried to claw out of my throat. My prayers slipped out again, broken and desperate. "Please, God. Please, please, make it stop. Don’t let him come back. Please."
But the more I prayed, the louder the silence became. The creaks grew closer, the whispers softer, as if they were just beyond the blanket, leaning close, waiting for me to peek out. I couldn’t take it anymore. My chest heaved, and with a sudden burst of panic, I ripped the blanket down and sat up, staring wildly around the room.
Nothing. The room was empty.The door still shut. The window still locked. Only shadows and moonlight. But my heart refused to believe it. My body still trembled, convinced that if I blinked too long, I would open my eyes and see him standing there again at the door, at the bed, leaning close enough that I could feel his breath. I pressed my hands against my face, sobbing softly. "It’s not real," I whispered. "It’s not real. He’s gone. He’s gone."
But the noises had already sunk into me. They weren’t outside anymore they were inside my head. And even when the room finally grew quiet again, I could still hear them, faint and ghostly, like the beating of wings beneath my skin. Eventually, exhaustion dragged me down. My body surrendered where my mind could not. My sobs quieted into hiccups, my eyelids too heavy to fight. The last thing I felt was the tremor still coursing through my limbs, the certainty that even in sleep, I wasn’t safe. And as I slipped under, I swore I heard it again. A whisper, curling around me like smoke.
Ellie...