Prankster

Prankster
Chapter 48:

“Welcome to pack politics,” she said dryly. “Everyone’s terrified of upsetting the Alpha, especially when he’s being all broody and protective. He gets that from—” she stopped again, then smiled quickly. “From being him, I suppose.”

I took a sip of the tea, it was spiced, warm and soothing in a way I didn’t expect. “So it’s not just me then? He’s universally frustrating?”

“Painfully so,” she answered. “Do you know how many times he’s canceled meetings because he thought he ‘felt something off in the air’? He once made half the pack redo the entire perimeter wall because a wolf reported a strange scent that turned out to be a skunk.”

I burst out laughing, nearly choking on my tea. “No way.”

“True story,” she said, smirking. “You should’ve seen his face when he realized. Didn’t even apologize. Just said, ‘Good training exercise.’”

“Oh my god.” I covered my mouth, giggling. “He’s so dramatic!”

“Oh, absolutely. But don’t tell anyone I said that.”

“Your secret’s safe,” I said, grinning. “We could start a support group. Victims of Damian’s Overprotective Tendencies.”

Her laughter came again, softer this time. “We’d need a big hall.”

“Perfect. We’ll meet weekly, serve snacks, plan our escape routes.”

She pretended to consider it. “Maybe even stage an intervention. Though I can’t promise he’d actually listen. The man treats responsibility like it’s an Olympic sport.”

I rolled my eyes. “Tell me about it. I swear, if he could bubble-wrap me and hide me in a safe house, he would.”

“Oh, he definitely would,” she said, eyes sparkling. “And then claim it was for your own good.”

We both dissolved into laughter again, the sound echoing softly through the warm room. It felt… good. Easy, in a way nothing else here did.

When we finally caught our breath, she leaned forward in her chair and gave me a sly grin. “You know what we should do?” She asked, her eyes glittering with mischief.

“What?”

She lowered her voice in mock conspiracy, “We could get even.”

I blinked. “Even?”

“Yeah, get a little revenge. Nothing dangerous, just… mildly inconvenient.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Revenge?”

“Why not?” she said, shrugging casually, to me though it looked anything but casual. “You’re clearly not happy about being grounded here, and I wouldn’t mind seeing him lose that iron composure of his for once. We could… make him squirm a little.”

I frowned, half amused, half intrigued. “What did you have in mind?”

“Oh, nothing too dangerous,” she said, her voice lilting with glee. “You’re human, so we’ll keep it simple. Maybe move his papers around in the study. Switch the key to the weapons room. Rearrange his clothes. Hide his phone. Anything to remind him, he's not a god.”

I gasped dramatically. “Hide his phone? That’s so cruel….” I paused, then smirked, “I like it!”

“Exactly.” She grinned. “He’ll lose his mind.”

I tried to picture Damian; calm, stoic, always two seconds from growling, searching for his missing phone and almost snorted. “Okay, that’s actually kind of tempting.”

“See? You’ve got the spirit.” She leaned in, her silver-gray eyes gleaming. “Never let an Alpha think he’s completely in control. It’s bad for them. Inflates their egos.”

“I think his ego’s already beyond saving.”

“Then we’re doing a public service.”

We both broke into giggles again, the sound bubbling up like we’d known each other for years. For a brief moment, it didn’t matter that I was human, or that I didn’t belong here, or that I’d been dragged into a world full of teeth and shadows. In here, I was just a girl having fun with someone. It was nice. It was normal.

“Alright,” I said between breaths, “but if he finds out, I’m blaming you.”

“Fair,” she said with a shrug, amusement still curling her lips. “Though, for the record, I’m very good at lying.”

“Oh, that’s comforting.”

We grinned at each other over the rim of our teacups, conspirators in mischief. The fire crackled quietly between us. For the first time since I’d arrived at Blackthorn territory, the air felt lighter.

She leaned forward, mischief flickering in her eyes. “So, which crime against the Alpha, do we commit first?”

I thought about it, tapping my chin like we were plotting a world takeover instead of mild chaos. “His room,” I decided. “If he’s going to imprison me here, the least I can do is return the favor… by attacking his wardrobe.”

Her smile turned devious. “Excellent choice. Lead the way, partner in crime.”

We slipped out into the corridor, trying, and failing to look innocent. Every step echoed far too loudly in the quiet halls. I half expected someone to appear from the shadows and demand an explanation, but no one did.

When we reached Damian’s room, I hesitated at the door. “He’s going to kill me if he finds out.”

She tilted her head. “He’s not here. Besides, I’ll take half the blame.”

“That’s not as comforting as you meant it to be.”

“It wasn’t supposed to be.”

I grinned despite myself and turned the handle. The room was exactly what I expected: neat to the point of obsession. The bed was perfectly made, the desk spotless, not a wrinkle in sight. It was begging to be messed with.

“Okay,” I whispered, “the mission: Wreck the Alpha’s closet is a go.”

“That’s such a terrible name but I love it!” She said grinning at me, I grinned back and morioned for her to go.

We started with the closet. Every shirt was folded symmetrically, every pair of pants arranged by color. I stared at it for a long moment before tugging one hanger free. “You ready?”

She grinned. “Born ready.”

Five minutes later, the once-perfect closet looked like a tornado had taken a personal interest in it. Shirts hung halfway off hangers, a pair of boots ended up on the bed, and I was laughing so hard I had to lean against the wall to stay upright.

“Stop–stop, you’re going to make me snort,” I said between laughs.

“Don’t stop now, we’re just getting started,” she replied, tossing a perfectly folded jacket across the room with surprising accuracy.

When we were done, it looked like a toddler had decided to dress himself for the day.

“Beautiful,” she said, admiring the chaos. “A true masterpiece.”

“Michelangelo could never,” I added, wiping a tear of laughter.

We exchanged a mischievous glance. “Next mission?” she asked.

“The study,” I said, already heading for the door. “If we’re lucky, we’ll confuse him so badly he’ll forget to be mad.”

“Unlikely,” she said, following close behind. “But worth a shot.”

The study was worse—papers neatly stacked in perfect grids, pens aligned with military precision. He’d even labeled the drawers. Who labels drawers?

“Oh, he deserves this,” I muttered, grabbing a handful of folders.

Together, we swapped piles, turned pages upside down, and rearranged his files just enough to drive him insane. The more we worked, the harder it was not to laugh.

“Do you think he’ll notice?” I asked.

She gave me a look. “He notices when someone breathes wrong. Of course he’ll notice.”

We both dissolved into giggles again, trying to smother the sound with our hands.

“Alright,” I whispered, “one last thing, and then we vanish before–”

“IVY!”

The voice thundered through the halls like a storm breaking over the mountains. I froze mid-step, a file still in my hand.

“Oh no,” I whispered, turning to her with wide eyes.

She grinned, completely unfazed.

“Oops.”