Romilda stood frozen.
The forest around her was too silent. No birds. No wind. The trees loomed like witnesses, their roots soaked in dark, sticky pools of blood.
Bodies lay everywhere.
Ones that belongs to some Pack members that she knew.
Wolves who had laughed, mocked, ignored her but still hers.
Her breath hitched.
"No… no, no…"
Then she saw her.
Lisa.
Her body lay twisted among the others, eyes wide and empty, blood staining the ground beneath her. The sight made Romilda stumble back, bile rising in her throat.
"This isn't real," she whispered, shaking her head. "This isn't real."
A soft laugh answered her.
Romilda turned slowly.
The girl stood a few steps away.
She looked exactly like her, same dark curls, same slender frame and same eye.
Her smile was too wide and too pleased. Blood streaked her hands, her dress soaked crimson like it was part of her skin.
Romilda's voice trembled.
"What… what did you do?"
The girl tilted her head, smiling brighter.
"They tormented you," she said lightly.
Her eyes gleamed.
"They tormented me."
She stepped closer, boots squelching softly in blood.
"So they don't deserve to live."
Romilda's chest tightened painfully.
"You're sick," she cried. "You're a monster!"
The girl laughed sharply and was delighted.
"Am I?" she asked. "Or am I just the part of you that finally stopped begging?"
Romilda screamed.
The forest shattered.
Romilda woke with a violent gasp.
Her head throbbed like it was splitting in two, pain pulsing behind her eyes. Her chest heaved as she sucked in air, clutching her tunic as if grounding herself to reality.
"It was just a dream," she whispered shakily.
Then she smelled it.
Blood.
Her gaze dropped.
Her stomach twisted violently.
The rogue lay before her, his chest torn open, ribs cracked and heart gone.
Another body nearby, throat slashed so deeply his head lolled at an unnatural angle. A third lay twisted, neck snapped like a broken branch.
Romilda staggered back.
"Oh gods…"
Her hands trembled. Her nails were stained dark. Her clothes splattered.
She remembered flashes now, the heat, rage and power.
The way her birthmark burned like fire against her skin.
The way something inside her thrilled.
Her breath became frantic.
"I didn't mean to..."
But she had.
And that terrified her.
If the pack found her here, standing among the bodies, they wouldn't listen or care.
They'd call her a monster and they'd kill her.
Romilda turned and ran.
She didn't stop until her lungs burned and her legs ached. She burst into her home, slamming the door shut behind her, locking it with shaking hands.
That night, she barely touched her food.
Priscilla noticed immediately, hearing what had happened to her, she thought that Romilda was stiol processing her trauma.
"Romilda," her mother said gently, watching her from across the table. "What's wrong?"
Romilda swallowed hard. Her fingers tightened around her spoon.
"Mom…" her voice wavered. "I hope you won't be scared of me if I tell you something."
Priscilla frowned softly.
"Have I ever been scared of you?"
Romilda's eyes burned.
"I… I don't know. I think…" She hesitated. "I think I might be turning into a monster."
Silence fell between them.
Priscilla leaned forward slowly.
"Did they hurt you?"
"No..., i think... I'mthe one who hurt someone this time," she whispered.
Her mother's eyes hardened instantly.
"Then they deserved whatever they got."
"No," Romilda said quickly, panic creeping in. "You don't understand."
She looked up, tears finally spilling.
"I didn't just defend myself. I ripped his heart out. I slashed his throat. I killed them… brutally."
Priscilla froze.
For a long moment, she said nothing.
Then she stood and crossed the room, pulling Romilda into her arms.
"Whatever you did," she said firmly, holding her tight, "you did it to survive."
Romilda shook in her embrace.
"At least now," her mother continued softly, "I know you can protect yourself. That means I can worry a little less."
Romilda wanted to tell her more.
About the girl that keep appearing to her.
About how good the power felt.
But the words died in her throat.
Her mother wouldn't understand.
So she stayed quiet for the rest of dinner, staring down at her plate while the shadow inside her smiled.
And waited.
****
The dining hall buzzed with its usual noise, plates clinking, voices overlapping, laughter rising and falling.
"Romilda ate in silence, keeping her gaze fixed firmly on her plate."
Then a chair scraped loudly across the floor.
The sound cut through the room.
Conversations faltered. Heads turned.
Lisa was sitting down beside her.
The hall fell into stunned silence.
Romilda froze mid-step, heart stuttering. She stared at the empty seat beside Lisa's friend and then at Lisa, who was smiling beside her.
She was convinced this was some new humiliation waiting to unfold.
Around them, eyes widened. Lisa's friends stiffened. Even the elders paused, confusion etched across their faces.
Lisa choosing to sit with an Omega that she's known to despise so much.
Lisa crossed one leg over the other with deliberate grace.
"I heard what happened to you," she said.
Romilda swallowed.
"Sorry about that." she said, her voice dropping into a bored, practiced neutral.
Romilda looked at her, unsettled. Lisa's face held no cruelty but neither did it hold warmth. Her eyes were sharp, assessing, as if she were watching a game piece instead of a person.
"Oh," Romilda said slowly. "Okay…"
Lisa smiled faintly, not reaching her eyes.
"That must have been terrifying," she continued smoothly. "Being chased by rogues. They're animals."
Romilda nodded, unease crawling up her spine.
"Yes."
Lisa leaned in just enough to feel private yet still fully visible to everyone watching.
"So," she asked lightly, voice sweet as honey,
"How did you escape them?"
Her fingers tapped once against the table.
Waiting.
Romilda hesitated. Her spoon hovered in midair.
"I ran," she said. "I got away."
Lisa's gaze flickered just once.
"That's it?"
"Yes..."
She tilted her head, studying Romilda's face as if searching for cracks.
"You're lucky," she said. "Very lucky."
Romilda forced a small smile. "I guess."
Lisa leaned back, satisfied enough for now.
She then left to sit beside her friends, as they began to question her.
"What was that about?" her Clara whispered, leaning in with a raised eyebrow.
"Since when do you sit with Romilda...?"
She kept her eyes fixed on her bag, pulling out a quill. "It was nothing," she said simply, her tone flat enough to signal the conversation was over.
Romilda returned to her meal, unaware that the apology had never been meant to comfort her.
It had been meant to test her.
And Lisa was already planning what to do next.