The Alpha In The Dark

The Alpha In The Dark
Chapter 9

The Alpha in the Dark

The night was heavy again—too quiet, too cold, too long. I'd lost count of the hours that slowly ticked by. Sleep wouldn't come, and the silence pressed in like a weight I couldn't shift.

The candle on the table guttered weakly, its flame trembling against the darkness. My blanket was thin, useless against the chill that crept in through the window cracks. I pulled it tighter anyway, huddling smaller.

Then—

A sound.

A faint tapping.

Not at the door this time, but the window.

My heart leapt into my throat. I froze completely, not moving or breathing.

Another tap, soft, hesitant.

I turned my head toward the sound, my heart racing. The curtains moved again as someone moved behind them. 

There was someone outside. 

I stood on shaking legs, moving closer, my bare feet meeting the cold stone. My hands trembled as I reached out to the curtain and drew it back enough to see.

And there—in the pale moonlight—stood Alpha Kade.

My eyes widened in surprise.

He was dressed in dark attire, his hair slightly mussed, his expression severe but… warm. His eyes did not contain cruelty, no cold dominance. Only concern.

When our eyes crashed, he brought a finger to his lips, bidding me silence, then nodded in the direction of the latch.

I hesitated for a long while. This could be a ruse. A test. Something Ronan devised to see if I'd obey commands.

But the look in Kade's eyes—steadfast, genuine—stirred something in me. 

I opened the window. Slowly, quietly. 

The hinge creaked, and he winced at the sound before pulling one leg over the sill and stepping inside.

The scent of pine and night air followed him in.

"Lyra…" he whispered.

His voice was low, but gentler than I remembered. I hadn't heard it in weeks, not since the night of the ceremony, when everything fell apart.

"What are you doing here?" I whispered, stepping back, my heart racing. "If Ronan—"

"He won't know," Kade said softly, interrupting. "I saw to it."

He smiled faintly, a smile that didn't quite reach his tired eyes. "I brought you something."

He placed a small basket on the table from under his arm. There were pieces of bread, a small portion of roasted meat, and—my breath caught—berries. Fresh ones.

"I thought you'd be hungry," he whispered.

My throat closed.

No one had ever broken into this place for me. No one had ever risked getting in trouble just to ensure I had something to eat.

"I—thank you," I whispered, looking at the food but not touching it. "But you shouldn't be here. If Ronan discovers—"

Kade shook his head. "I don't care what Ronan finds out. You don't deserve to be locked up like this, Lyra."

His words pained my chest. I didn't know what to say.

He inched forward, a small step, his eyes searching my face warily, as though fearful of breaking me with a look.

"You're so pale," he whispered. "So thin. He's treating you like a prisoner."

"I am a prisoner," I whispered, the taste of the words sour on my lips. "And you needn't pity me for it."

His brow furrowed. "I don't pity you. I—"

He cut off, his jaw tight as if choking down something thick. "I'm angry," he said finally. "At him. At what he's doing to you. You deserve better than this cage."

I turned away, wrapping my arms around myself. "No one ever cared before. Why start now?"

He sighed softly. "Because I see you now, Lyra. I should've before, but I didn't. And that's on me."

His honesty cut more than any sharp word Ronan had ever thrown my way.

I fell back on the edge of the bed, my voice trembling. "You shouldn't be here," I repeated, feebly. "If Ronan—"

"—handles me," Kade finished softly. "Let him."

I jerked my head up to him, sharply. He wasn't bragging or trying to impress me. He was serious.

The air between us shifted—thicker, warmer, denser.

He sat on the floor beside the bed, close enough that I could feel the subtle warmth radiating from him. We were silent for a time.

The wind murmured outside against the stone walls.

Then, silently, he removed his outer cloak and put it around my shoulders.

I startled, but didn't shrug it off. The fabric was thick, rough, but warm.

"You're shivering," he whispered.

I did not thank him this time. I could not. The words were trapped somewhere within me.

Instead, I sat there—wrapped in his cloak, listening to the sound of his slow, steady breathing.

After a long silence, he spoke again. "I can help you, Lyra. I can get you out."

My heart skipped a beat. "What?"

"I know a way," he said, his voice insistent. "Through the eastern wall. There is a passage that leads out to the forest. I can take you when the guards change at dawn."

I blinked, disbelief and fear stirring inside me.

He sounded so convincing. Too convincing.

But freedom—after all this—frightened me more than prison walls could possibly do.

"I can't," I whispered. "If Ronan finds out…"

Kade stood before me, his expression gentle but piercing. "You're afraid of him," he whispered. "After everything he's done."

I said nothing.

Because he was right.

I was afraid—of Ronan, of freedom, of everything that might go wrong if I fled. Of everything I might feel if I stayed.

Kade let out a sigh, rubbing his neck, frustration playing on his face.

"I know what he did to you," he said, his voice lower now. "I know what he's capable of. But he doesn't own you, Lyra."

There was something in his voice that made me look at him again. His eyes—green and warm in the candlelight—were full of something that looked too much like compassion. Maybe more.

He reached out slowly, his fingers brushing against mine where it rested on the blanket. His was a soft, hesitant touch, one that asked permission words couldn't.

I didn't pull my hand away immediately—but my heart was beating too fast.

"I'll keep you safe," he whispered. "I promise."

My eyes burned, tears rising. "Don't make promises like that," I whispered back. "Not here. Not now."

He smiled faintly, a hint of melancholy at the corners of his lips. "Then I'll not say it, but keep it."

The heat from his hand still lingered on mine. His scent—pine, smoke, something wild—hung in the air around us. It was too much. Too close.

As I looked up at him, his face was inches from mine.

The air was tense.

He moved slightly, his hand brushing the edge of my hair, sweeping a strand behind my ear.

"Lyra…" he whispered.

I tensed. My breath halted.

He leaned in—slowly, cautiously, like a man testing the edge of a forbidden fire.

And for one frozen moment, I didn't move. The world paused.

But then—

Ronan's face flashed in my mind. His eyes, his voice, the way he'd looked at me that morning.

Panic flooded me.

I jerked back, my heart pounding. "Don't!"

Kade stopped immediately, his eyes widening. "Lyra—"

"I can't," I said, shaking my head. "Please. Don't."

He flinched, but made no move to touch me again. He stood up slowly, giving me space.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. "I didn't mean to scare you."

I said nothing.

The silence that now stretched between us was strained, heavy with all that was not being spoken.

Kade shoved a hand through his hair, his voice low. "I'll still rescue you. Even if you hate me for it."

He went to the window, glanced once back over his shoulder. The moon illuminated the curve of his jaw, his eyes dark but still gentle.

"I'll be back," he whispered. "When it's safe."

Then he scrambled out the way he'd come, vanishing into the darkness.

I stood there for a long while, staring at the window, my hands trembling inside his cloak. 

My heart was still racing—not due to the chill. Not because of Kade. 

But because of what I had felt the instant before I fled. 

Something warm. Something perilous. 

Something that had made me fearful of myself. 

And just as I was about to sit down, I heard it— 

The slightest creak. 

The door. 

Someone was out there. 

Listening.