Chapter 48: Fist Fight

Chapter 48: Fist Fight Kaya My mind is in shambles; utterly lost and spiraling. Shelly ran away. She left without a single word. Why would she do something like that? Why now? She said she’d get rid of Damien’s baby, but I never imagined she’d leave the pack to do it. Where would she even go? As far as I know, Shelly is an orphan, just like me. She was born in Dark Wood, raised by her packmates after her parents died during a hunt. There was no one else. No family. No home outside these borders. She can’t go back—not with Camilla still there. And she can’t go to Damien either. He’d kill her the moment he laid eyes on her. So where the hell did she go? A jolt runs through me like a splash of ice water. My breath catches as I suddenly realize I’m still in her room—alone, surrounded by the mess she left behind. In my hands is the only thing she entrusted to me: a single note, folded carefully between my fingers. The last piece of her. Until the very end, she believed in me—believed I’d keep my word and wouldn’t let anyone else in. For the first time in years, someone besides Damien placed their trust in me. And now, I’m standing at the edge of betrayal, caught in the impossible choice between loyalty and responsibility. "Don’t tell anyone. Act like you don’t know anything. I’ll keep your secret. A deal is a deal." I read the note again. Then again. And again—until the words start to blur and lose meaning, their weight sinking deeper into my chest. She’s begging me to stay silent. To protect her freedom, even as she promises to guard my secret in return. But can I really do that? Can I turn a blind eye... and let her vanish without a trace? I sigh, but the tight knot in my chest refuses to loosen. For now, I’ll do what Shelly asked of me. It’s the least I can do. Without another word, I step out of her room and place the paper bag Dr. Ron gave me beside her door. If anyone asks why I did it, I’ll simply say that I knocked and she didn’t answer. Given the nature of our relationship, no one would question it. They’ll assume we’re just... keeping our distance again. Suddenly, an eerie stillness settles over me. The hallway is unnaturally quiet—no footsteps, no murmurs of conversation. Not a single soul in sight. It feels like the entire pack house is holding its breath. Curious and mildly disoriented, I step back into Shelly room and glance at the alarm clock on the nightstand. My eyes widen. Twenty minutes past midnight. Goddess. I’ve spent the entire day here, sitting in silence, going over everything in my head again and again. I wander back into the hallway, but I don’t know what I’m doing. My feet carry me forward, but I have no destination in mind. I’m not hungry, so the kitchen isn’t an option. And I’m not tired either, so the thought of curling up alone in my room fills me with dread more than comfort. More than anything, I just don’t want to be confined again—not tonight. Maybe I should visit Samantha. But no. She’s probably asleep by now, and I don’t want to risk seeming too needy. I’d hate to come off as clingy, especially now when we’re finally starting to build something that feels like a real friendship. Fine... I sigh again, dragging my fingers through my tangled hair, wincing slightly at the knots. With a few haphazard twists, I manage to tie it into a loose bun—messy, but at least it’s out of my face. I’ll go for a walk. A bit of fresh air might help clear my head. Maybe afterward, exhaustion will finally settle in, and sleep won’t feel so out of reach. The moment I step outside, a cold gust of wind slaps me in the face, sharp and biting. I shiver as it rushes through my clothes, curling around my limbs with icy fingers. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this weather. It’s such a drastic shift from the warm, golden days back in Dark Wood. There, the sun seemed to always find me. We were never tired of it. We...That single word brings Damien crashing back into my thoughts. We used to be his favorite word. He wielded it like a promise, using it to tether me to his world. We was how he first spoke to me—how he drew me in, painting pictures of a better life, a shared future. We were supposed to be forever. No matter what. Through everything. But now... I click my tongue and shake my head, irritated with myself for letting my thoughts drift back to him, the man who broke me. I shouldn’t be thinking about Damien. Not now. Not ever again. I really believed he would give me a better life. I clung to that hope like it was the only thing I had. But in the end, all he did was use me and toss me aside the moment I ceased to entertain him—exactly as everyone had warned me he would. And still, like a fool, I thought they were wrong. Lost in a swirl of self-pity and bitter reflection, I barely notice that my feet have carried me somewhere familiar. I blink, realizing I’m standing at the edge of the training grounds. The memory of my first attempt to train with the others flashes across my mind, tightening the pit in my stomach. Being here now—alone, in the middle of the night—feels unsettling. The field is cloaked in silence, bathed in pale moonlight. Empty. Still. Almost... eerie. A sudden chill runs down my spine, and I shiver as if some unseen force has brushed right past me. I hadn’t even realized how on edge I was until that moment; that ghoul incident must have left its mark on me, and it runs deep. My eyes dart around instinctively, scanning the shadows, half-expecting to see something move—another twisted silhouette like the one I saw in the forest with Magnus. But there’s nothing. No movement. No threat. And still, I can’t shake the unease tightening around my chest. I’ve seen enough. I’ve felt enough. Decision made, I turn on my heel. I’m going back. I think I’ve had enough adventure for one lifetime, let alone a few days. I round the corner of the equipment room, ready to sneak back into the house, when a sudden, unfamiliar sound catches my attention. Voices—low and distinctly male—coming from somewhere near the old, half-collapsed shed at the far edge of the training grounds. Why would anyone be out here this late at night? I curse my insatiable curiosity, the same reckless instinct that now makes my fingers twitch and my spine tingle with anticipation. Despite the sensible part of me urging caution, I find myself creeping forward again, moving as silently as possible across the open training field. My heartbeat quickens with every step. When I finally reach the shed, I press my back against its cold, weathered wall, trying to steady my breath. For a moment, I hesitate, summoning the nerve to peek around the corner. And when I do—what I see stops me cold. Two figures stand there, locked in a fierce exchange. One of them I recognize immediately—Ray, the pack’s notoriously gruff chef. But the other... He isn’t a man. Not yet, at least. He’s just a boy—barely in his teens by the look of him. And the two of them are having a fist fight.