Reborn by Moonlight: My Revenge to Alpha

A few nights have passed with some lingering tension. Again I had spent the evening alone, going over the new books I'd borrowed, trying to pass the time while Idris was out with Cassandra again. But the silence tonight was different—thicker, somehow, as if the air itself was waiting.

A shattering crash echoed through the hallway, followed by the chaotic sound of glass splintering. I froze, my heart thundering as the loudest crash reverberated down the corridors.

Grabbing the heavy brass candlestick from my bedside table, I slipped into the hall. My breath was shallow, every instinct telling me to turn back, but I forced myself to follow the sound, inching toward the porch. Fragments of broken glass littered the floor, glinting sharply in the moonlight.

Suddenly, a scream tore through the air. I dashed toward the kitchen, gripping the candlestick tighter as the sound of snarling wolves grew louder. Bursting into the room, I stopped short.

A massive wolf stood over Greg, the head chef, its yellow eyes fixed on him with a predatory gleam. Greg swung a heavy iron pot in defense, backing against the wall as the wolf advanced.

The creature sensed my presence and whipped around, its eyes locking onto me with chilling intensity. Before I could react, it lunged. I swung the candlestick instinctively, just managing to jam it horizontally between its jaws as it snapped at me, the candle wax scalding my hands as it dripped.

My muscles trembled, the wolf's strength nearly overpowering me. It snarled, its foul breath hot against my face. Just as I felt my arms beginning to give way, Greg took his chance, slamming the iron pot against the wolf's head with a dull thud. The beast wavered, then collapsed to the ground.

Our relief was short-lived. Two more wolves appeared in the doorway, their dark eyes gleaming with fury at their fallen companion. My heart pounded as they approached, their growls filling the room. I scrambled to pick up the candlestick again, quickly splashing a handful of hot wax into the face of the nearest wolf. It howled, thrashing in pain.

The other wolf growled and lunged, tearing the candlestick from my grip and flinging it aside. I was defenseless, desperate for something to use as a weapon. Just then, a small figure darted between me and the wolves—The young wolf I have taken care of for Idris. He leapt at the wolf, his small frame gripping the wolf's neck, fangs bared in a protective snarl.

But he was too small to hold his ground for long. The wolf tossed him aside, and I heard his yelp of pain. Before I could react, both wolves rounded on me, their eyes flashing with deadly intent.

A sharp whistle cut through the air, and a sword struck one of the wolves, piercing its forehead with a sickening crack. I turned just as Idris stormed into the room, his eyes blazing with a green light as he charged at the other wolf. He struck with a ferocity I hadn't seen before, his movements swift and brutal as he brought the beast down.

Within moments, both wolves lay defeated, their forms twisted and still. Gabriel arrived moments later, his light brown hair and sharp features shadowed in the dim light. Without a word, he hefted the unconscious wolves over his shoulder, carrying them out of the kitchen.

In the aftermath, I spotted the young wolf limping, blood seeping from a torn bandage on his leg. Without thinking, I knelt beside him, my hands trembling as I began rewrapping the wound.

"What do you think you're doing?" Idris's voice cut through the silence, colder than I'd ever heard it.

I glanced up, meeting his intense gaze. "His wound reopened. He tried to help us, and now it's bleeding again. I need to tend to him."

Idris took a step forward, grabbing my hand before I could react. I winced at the pain—the scalding wax from earlier had left red blisters along my fingers, some spots even bleeding slightly.

"So, you can feel pain," he said, his tone as sharp as the sword he'd just wielded. "You should take a look at your hand." He released me, and Cassandra appeared, taking over with the young wolf. "Come with me," he ordered, his voice low and firm.

It was impossible to get out of Idris' grip, especially with the pain, I had to follow him down the hallway and into my bedroom. He motioned for me to sit, then retrieved the ointment from my bedside, uncapping it with practiced ease.

How did he know the ointment was in my bedroom in the first place!?

As I watched, his hands steadied over mine. His fingers, long and precise, moved with surprising gentleness as he spread the cool balm over the burns on my hand. A soft warmth radiated from his touch, and for the first time, I felt something other than hostility emanating from him.

The harsh green glint in his eyes from earlier had faded, replaced by a calm focus.

"Funny," I muttered, my voice tinged with irony. "This is the first time I've seen you act with any hint of kindness."

Idris didn't look up, neither did he care about my blunt comment, his expression unreadable as he continued to tend to my hand. "Kindness?" he murmured, a wry smirk tugging at his lips. "I'm hardly capable of that."

I chuckled bitterly. "Well, compared to the way you treat me, this feels almost generous. But Cassandra get to see this side of you all the time."

At this, he paused, the faintest flicker of something passing over his face. "Cassandra is different," he replied quietly. "She's one of mine. You're not."

I blinked, his words raising more questions than answers. "One of yours? What does that mean?"

He straightened, his face hardening once more. But instead of answering, he set the ointment back on the bedside table and turned to leave.

"Rest," he said over his shoulder, his tone as distant as ever. "The wolves may come again."

"Oh and by the way, the wolf you had been taken care of has a name, Ryan."

With that, he closed the door, leaving me alone in the silence.