Ashen's POV
I was stacking training gear in the storage room when Roy strolled by, stretching his arms.
"Alpha's got a few visiting Alphas over for meetings," he said casually, grabbing a towel from the shelf. "Whole place is on lockdown until they leave."
I barely acknowledged him, nodding as I hefted a crate onto the shelf. Politics and pack affairs didn't concern me. As long as I did my job, I could stay out of Dominic's way and after yesterday's mess, that was exactly what I needed.
Then Ryker showed up.
"Wolfe, help me move some supplies to the back."
I didn't argue. It was better than standing around with nothing but my thoughts. I followed him outside, lifting a few crates from the supply cart as we moved toward the storage hall.
Then I heard it.
A voice.
One I hadn't heard in years.
One that sent ice through my veins, locking me in place.
No.
I didn't move. Didn't breathe.
It couldn't be. It couldn't.
But the longer I stood there, the clearer it became.
That low, gruff tone. That familiar rasp that used to bark orders at me. That used to command me.
My uncle.
The crate slipped from my fingers, landing on the ground with a dull thud.
"Ashen?" Ryker's voice was sharp, but distant. Like he was speaking from behind a wall. "What's wrong?"
I couldn't answer.
My vision tunneled. My chest tightened, breath coming in sharp, rapid gasps.
He's here.
He had found me.
I staggered back. My heart was hammering so hard I could barely hear anything else.
I needed to move. I needed to hide.
Before he saw me. Before he reached me. Before—
I turned and bolted.
I didn't think. Didn't care where I was going.
I just needed to get away.
A door any door I shoved into the first room I saw, slamming it behind me, pressing my back against it as if I could keep the whole world out.
Ryker followed, his expression tight with concern. He didn't crowd me, didn't touch me. Just stood there, watching me struggle to breathe, waiting.
Minutes passed.
Slowly, the panic began to fade. My hands were still shaking, my pulse still erratic, but the initial terror was ebbing, leaving me exhausted and hollow.
Ryker shifted, crossing his arms. "Should I get Dominic?"
I flinched.
No. No.
If Dominic found out, if he saw me like this weak, pathetic he would never let me live it down.
He would never look at me the same.
"I don't need him," I forced out, my voice hoarse.
Ryker's sharp gaze studied me, calculating. Then—
"Who is he?" he asked, his tone softer now. "Why are you scared?"
I swallowed hard, my throat tight.
My uncle's voice still echoed in my head.
I couldn't tell him.
I wouldn't.
So I did what I always did.
I clenched my jaw, straightened my spine, and forced myself to lie.
"No one," I muttered. "It's nothing."
Ryker didn't look convinced.
But for now, he let it go.
"Talk to me," Ryker said, his voice calmer now, steady.
I couldn't.
My throat felt raw, like I'd been strangled from the inside. My breath still came in uneven bursts, and my hands wouldn't stop shaking, no matter how hard I clenched them into fists.
"Leave me alone," I rasped, hating how weak I sounded.
My voice broke on the last word.
Ryker didn't move. Didn't press. But he didn't leave either.
"Hey," he said, softer this time. "It's okay."
It wasn't.
It would never be okay.
But I didn't fight when he crouched down beside me, giving me space, not looking at me like I was some fragile thing about to shatter. Just waiting.
"They'll leave soon," he continued. "Just stay here."
I forced a nod, pressing my back harder against the door.
As if that could keep the past from finding me.
Silence stretched between us, heavy and suffocating.
I focused on my breathing—slow, controlled inhales. Anything to steady the storm raging in my chest.
Ryker stayed crouched beside me, arms resting on his knees, his expression unreadable. He wasn't pushing, wasn't prying, but his presence alone was grounding. I hated that it helped.
I hated that I needed it.
Minutes passed. Maybe more. My heartbeat still pounded in my ears, but the worst of the panic had ebbed, leaving exhaustion in its place.
Ryker exhaled, rubbing a hand over his jaw. "You wanna tell me what's going on?"
I shook my head.
His lips pressed into a thin line. "Figures."
More silence.
I shifted against the door, tension coiling in my shoulders. "Are they still here?"
"Yeah." Ryker studied me carefully. "But they won't be for long. Just a few more hours."
A few more hours.
I could survive that.
I had to survive that.
Ryker's gaze didn't waver. "You don't have to tell me everything, but…" He hesitated. "You're not okay, Ashen."
A bitter laugh scraped from my throat. "No shit."
He huffed a quiet chuckle, but his eyes darkened. "If this guy whoever he is if he's a threat, Dominic should know."
My stomach clenched.
No.
Dominic couldn't know. He could never know.
"He's not a threat," I muttered, voice tight.
Ryker raised a brow, clearly unconvinced. "Really? Because you looked ready to pass out five minutes ago."
I swallowed hard, forcing my expression blank. "It's in the past. I handled it."
Ryker's jaw twitched.
He wanted to argue. I could feel it.
But after a long moment, he exhaled, nodding once. "Alright."
He didn't believe me.
But he let it drop.
For now.
I dragged a hand through my hair, trying to calm the lingering tremors in my fingers. My uncle wouldn't recognize me now. I was different. Stronger. He had no reason to suspect I was here.
And after today, he'd be gone.
I just had to stay out of sight.
Stay hidden.
And pretend none of this ever happened.
I stayed in that room longer than I wanted to admit. Ryker didn't leave, but he didn't push me either. He just sat there, quiet and patient. It should've annoyed me, but it didn't.
Eventually, my breathing evened out, and the tremors in my hands faded. I told myself I was fine. That I had to be fine.
I glanced at Ryker. "You should go."
He frowned. "Not until I know you're good."
I forced a smirk. "I'm always good."
Ryker didn't buy it. Not for a second.
But he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Alright. But if you need something—"
"I won't."
His jaw twitched, but he didn't argue.
With one last glance, he stood and left, closing the door behind him.
I exhaled slowly, staring at the floor.
The walls of the room felt too close, the air too thick. I needed to move.
I couldn't stay hidden forever.
So I forced myself to stand, shaking off the last remnants of fear, and stepped outside.
The halls were quiet. No sign of my uncle. No voices that sent ice through my veins.
Good.
I moved carefully, avoiding the main corridors, but I needed to be sure. I had to see for myself that he was really here. That I wasn't imagining things.
I reached the upper level of the packhouse and peered down into the main hall.
And there he was.
My uncle.
Standing amongst the alphas, laughing, talking like he belonged here. Like he wasn't a monster.
My stomach twisted, bile rising in my throat.
The room spun.
I gripped the railing, fingers digging into the wood. He hadn't changed. Same sharp eyes, same controlled presence.
My body screamed at me to run. To hide.
But another part of me one I barely recognized wanted to do the opposite.
Wanted to fight.
I wasn't the same helpless kid he had broken years ago.
And yet, standing there, watching him…
I wasn't sure who I was anymore.
A knock at the door made me flinch.
I had been standing in the same spot for too long, my grip still tight on the railing, my breathing shallow.
"Ashen." Ryker's voice was calm but firm. "They're gone."
Gone.
The word echoed in my head, but my body didn't move right away. It was like I needed to hear it again—needed proof that the weight in my chest could finally lift.
Ryker stepped closer, lowering his voice. "You okay?"
I swallowed hard and forced a nod, even though I knew he didn't believe it. "Yeah."
He studied me for a second, then jerked his head toward the hallway. "Go on. Get some air or something."
That was all the permission I needed.
I turned on my heel and rushed down the corridor, pushing past warriors who barely gave me a second glance. I didn't stop until I reached my room.
The door slammed shut behind me.
My hands found my knees as I bent forward, sucking in a breath like I had just surfaced from drowning.
They were gone.
I was fine.
I had to be fine.
But my hands were still shaking. My body was still coiled too tight, my mind looping back to the past, no matter how hard I tried to pull myself out of it.
I gritted my teeth and clenched my fists, forcing the tremors to stop.
I was not that terrified kid anymore.
I was stronger now.
So why did I still feel so fucking weak?