Chapter 66 Shattered Haze

Chapter 66 Shattered Haze
INDIE

I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, the sheets pulled up to my chin even though the room wasn't cold. My body still hummed with leftover tension from earlier. Especially with all the confusion, unwanted heat, and that deep, gnawing sense that nothing was right.

The bathroom door was closed. I could hear the faint sound of running water as West washed up. I waited, my heart beating unevenly, trying to gather my scattered thoughts into something coherent.

When he finally stepped out, shirtless and towel-drying his hair, I sat up slowly.

"West," I said softly.

He smiled at me, soft and warm, climbing back into bed beside me.

"Yeah, baby?"

I swallowed hard.

"What did we do for my last birthday?"

He blinked, then chuckled as though the question was adorable.

"We had a quiet dinner here. Just us and Lila. You said you didn't want anything big because you were tired from the healing centre."

I nodded slowly, even though the answer felt... off.

"And Lila's third birthday?"

"We took her to the river. She chased butterflies. You made her that flower crown."

"Fourth?"

"A small party with the pack pups. Cake. She got frosting everywhere."

"Fifth?"

West paused for half a second, then leaned in and kissed my shoulder.

"We kept it simple again. You weren't feeling well that week."

I stared at him. Every answer sounded perfect. Reasonable. Loving.

But none of them felt real.

My pulse quickened.

"Where is Zade?" I asked suddenly.

West went very still.

"And Leon," I continued, my voice shaking. "The one with red hair. Lila keeps asking about them. She says they're real. That one has purple eyes and calls her princess. Who are they, West?"

For a moment, something dark flashed across his face. But it disappeared too quickly for me to catch. Then he smiled again, gentle and patient, pulling me closer.

"Baby... those are just dreams. You've been so stressed with the plague. Your mind is mixing things up. Zade was... your stepbrother from before we got together. Leon might be someone you met at the healing centre, but they're not here. They're not part of our life."

His lies were smooth. Carefully curated.

But I noticed the tiny cracks. The way his fingers tightened on my waist, the slight hesitation before each name, the way his eyes didn't quite meet mine.

I pulled back slightly, staring at him.

"Have you been lying to me?" I whispered.

West's expression shifted into surprise, then something softer, almost wounded.

Before he could answer, his face suddenly twisted.

He lurched forward, clutching his stomach, and vomited hard onto the floor. Dark red blood splattered across the wooden planks.

He gasped, choking, his body writhing as another wave hit him. His hands gripped the edge of the bed, his knuckles white, veins standing out on his neck as he fought for air.

"West—!" I cried, scrambling to him in horror.

He collapsed halfway onto the bed, coughing and gagging, more blood dripping from his lips. His eyes were wide with pain and fear.

I grabbed a towel from the nightstand and frantically wiped his mouth, my hands shaking.

"You're sick," I whispered, tears flooding my eyes. "You have it too... don't you?"

He nodded weakly, still gasping, blood streaking his chin.

"I didn't... want to worry you," he rasped, his voice broken. "You've been carrying so much already. I thought I could hide it longer."

Emotional pain crashed over me. Guilt. Fear. Love. Confusion. Everything tangled together until I couldn't breathe.

I helped him clean up as best I could, wiping his face and chest with trembling hands. He leaned heavily against me, his breathing ragged.

A loud knock suddenly sounded on the door.

"Alpha!" an urgent male voice called from the hallway. "It's urgent! We need you now!"

West cursed under his breath. He pushed himself up with visible effort, swaying on his feet, still pale and bloodied.

"I have to go," he muttered, pressing a quick, weak kiss to my forehead. "Stay here. Rest. I'll be back soon."

Before I could protest, he stumbled towards the door, following the messenger.

I sat there alone in the blood-stained bed, my heart racing, my mind spinning.

Something was very, very wrong.

And I was starting to realize I was trapped in the middle of it.

...

My bare feet moved silently down the dimly lit hallway, my heart hammering so hard I could feel it in my throat. Every step felt heavier than the last, as if my body knew I shouldn't be doing this, but I couldn't stop. The need to understand what was happening outweighed the fear.

West's study door was slightly ajar. Golden light spilled out into the corridor.

I pressed my back against the wall beside it, trying to make myself as small as possible. My breathing was shallow and barely audible. I leaned in just enough to listen.

At first, there was only the wet, rhythmic sound of flesh slapping against flesh. Low, guttural grunts. A woman's breathy moans.

My stomach clenched painfully.

Then Stella's voice pierced through the air, thick with pleasure and frustration.

"Fuck... West... yes, just like that—"

Another wet slap. Harder. The desk creaked loudly under them.

I clamped a hand over my mouth, my eyes wide. My legs felt weak. I should have walked away. But I couldn't move.

West growled something filthy in response, his voice rough and animalistic. The pace grew more brutal. The sounds were visceral, punctuated by Stella's increasingly loud whimpers.

Then her tone sharpened, even as she panted.

"I'm tired of this, West. Tired of hiding like some whore while that bitch plays Luna in my house—"

A sharp, ugly thud echoed through the room.

Stella cried out in pain.

West's voice turned vicious, low and menacing.

"Shut. Your. Fucking. Mouth."

Another heavy thud. Then another. The sound of skin being struck repeatedly. Stella's whimpers turned into loud, broken sobs.

I felt sick. My free hand pressed against my stomach as bile rose in my throat. I could almost feel the impact of his fists through the wall.

West kept going, breathing hard, his voice dripping with frustration and rage.

"You think I enjoy pretending with her? Smiling at that empty fucking shell while she looks at me like I'm a stranger? I need her flames. That's all. Once I drain what I need from her, I'll—"

He didn't finish the sentence. Another brutal slap cut him off, followed by Stella's choked cry.

My knees nearly buckled.

Tears streamed silently down my face. I couldn't breathe. My mind was screaming, but my body stayed frozen against the wall, hand still clamped tightly over my mouth.

Then West's voice dropped suddenly, cold and alert.

"...Indie?"

My head spun.

He knew.

I stumbled backwards, terror flooding every inch of me. My foot caught on the edge of the rug, and I nearly fell.

Before I could run, a strong arm wrapped around me from behind. A large hand clamped firmly over my mouth, muffling my gasp. I was yanked back against a hard, warm chest.

The scent hit me like a lightning strike. Warm amber, dark cedar, and something unmistakably him.

Zade.

His voice was a low, dangerous whisper right against my ear, his breath hot on my skin.

"Quiet, bunny. Don't make a sound."