***ALICE***
My feet moved before my mind caught up—short, measured steps crunching against the gravel as I approached Xander. Each one felt heavy… too heavy. The night air wrapped around us, cold and still.
"So, here's the new place you've chosen to hide?"
Xander's voice cut through the silence—smooth, familiar and cruel.
The words made my stomach twist, anger clawing up my chest from my stomach… but I forced myself to keep it down. Forced myself to breathe.
Hide?
That wasn't what this was. And he damn well knew it.
I steadied myself, lifting my chin up just enough to impose my confidence. "What brought you here?"
Before Xander could answer, Diacam's voice cut through the air—her aura reeking of pride. "The daughter of a traitor is asking what brought the Alpha's son to his father's home?"
The way she stood there—chin raised, fingers wrapped around Xander's arm like she owned him—stung me far deeper than her words.
"What did I ever do," my voice cracked, keeping my gaze fixed on the both of them—unwavering, "to make you change this much towards me? I thought we were best friends."
Diacam laughed. A cold, humorless sound that pierced right through my chest. She leaned on Xander as if the two of them had been sharing the joke all along.
"Best friends?" she repeated, her smile twisting into something hurtful. "Xander found you cute and wanted to have his time with you. That's all. Nothing more."
The world tilted.
For a moment, everything—my breath, my heartbeat, my thoughts. Everything stopped.
Cute.
Wanted to have his time with me.
Nothing more.
The people I trusted the most—people I thought really cared about me, had only used me. Laughed at me. Pretended.
My vision blurred, tears forming below my eyes. Not here. Not in front of them. I clenched my fists so hard my nails pierced into my palms, grounding myself in the pain.
But then—
A shadow moved from behind them towards me.
Lancelot.
He stepped in with a calmness that suppressed the tension in the air, his eyes scanning Xander and Diacam like they've had history together.
"Hey, Lance. What brought you here?"
Xander asked, an arrogant smile curling from the corner of his lips. He casually ran his fingers through Diacam's hair, as he stared at Lancelot—biting his lips.
Only then did the realization strike me—they knew each other. Or at least, were far quite familiar.
Lancelot didn't even bother answering him.
He simply turned his gaze toward me., "Come with me."
Not a question. Not a request.
A soft command.
And before I could respond, he took my wrist gently but firmly, pulling me away from them.
A soft chuckle trailed behind us—Diacam's and Xander's mixed together. "Looks like Lancelot's found a new plaything," Diacam mocked.
Lancelot froze mid-step.
His shoulders tensed, irritation flashing through his eyes. He turned slightly, ready to confront them, but I placed a hand on his arm.
"Don't," I muttered, my voice tired. "I've had a long night… I just want some quiet."
For a moment, he didn't move. Then he exhaled slowly, nodding. "Alright." Glancing over his shoulder one more time, before proceeding forward.
He led me through the dim paths until we reached a house I'd never seen before—it stood alone in the midst of a beautiful garden, almost unreal in the moonlight. Soft lights glowing from within. It was beautiful.
Inside the sitting room, Derrick sat on a couch, utterly absorbed in a puzzle, clicking pieces together with strict focus.
"Typical of you," Lancelot muttered.
Derrick looked up briefly, smiled, nodded, then returned to his puzzle as if the tension and the expressions on our faces didn't mean anything to him.
Lancelot guided me down the hallway to his room.
Inside—everything was neat. Soft. Calm.
The exact opposite of what I felt inside.
He closed the door gently behind us. Then he turned, leaning slightly forward, voice low but firm.
"Why did you let them talk to you like that?"
My breath hitched. I blinked at him, surprised. "You… heard them?"
His lips twitched, a gentle smile curling out of them.
"Why exactly have you been stalking me?" The question slipped out of me too naturally—too raw.
But he didn't take it seriously. He smirked a little, brushing his thumb across my cheek with a gentleness that made my chest tighten.
"You're still a young wolf," he murmured. "I figured you'd need some protecting."
Protecting.
The somehow sent warmth to my body… and somehow, that felt terrifying.
Because this—this closeness. This sweetness—this was how people slipped under my skin. This was how I got hurt. How I ended up standing in front of Xander and Diacam with my heart torn open.
My thoughts tangled.
Just in that moment, Lancelot leaned in slowly, carefully closing the distance between us. His soft breath brushed my skin. His lips were just a few inches away.
"Lancelot… " I stopped him, pressing my hand against his chest.
His eyes widened slightly. A moment of regret flashed through them before he stepped back.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, clenching his fists.
I swallowed hard, unable to speak. The room suddenly felt too small. Too suffocating.
"I… I should go," I muttered, rushing towards the door.
He followed immediately. "Alice—"
"Don't follow me," I said sharply, my voice barely holding steady. "Please."
He stopped. Just watched me with something unreadable in his eyes.
I stepped outside… into the cold, lonely path leading home.
No footsteps behind me.
No voice calling.
Just a crazy ache growing stronger in the middle of my chest.
The quiet made room for thoughts I didn't want—pulling me back to the things Lancelot said by the stream… and to the way Xander used to treat me. Sweet, gentle, careful.
Maybe that's what this is again. A convenient relationship that shatters as soon as he gets what he wants.
I wrapped my arms around myself, breathing through the hurtful memories hurling through my head.
Fine.
If that's how the world wanted to treat me, then I wouldn't give it another chance to break me.
From this moment forward, there would be only one goal.
Get stronger.
And save my father.