Chapter 3 In His World
CHAPTER THREE
Sara’s POV
The scream shattered the night.
Sharp. Desperate. Close.
I jolted upright in my bed, heart hammering, breath caught in my throat. For a moment I thought I imagined it. But then another sound followed. A heavy crash. The thud of something hitting stone. Then silence.
Too much silence.
My pulse raced as I slid out of bed and hurried to the door. Mira slept through it, snoring softly, unaware of the shift in the air. I stepped into the hallway. The lights were dim, casting long shadows across the walls. Everything looked normal.
But everything felt wrong.
A presence lingered in the corridor. Faint. Cold. Unfamiliar.
Luna growled inside me. Not in fear. In warning.
Someone was here.
Someone who shouldn’t be.
I moved quietly, letting my feet guide me toward the sound. The healer wing wasn’t large, but the corridor felt stretched, distorted by the tension tightening around me. As I turned the corner, I saw it.
A door was half open.
The supply room.
A faint metallic scent drifted out.
Blood.
My stomach dropped.
I stepped inside cautiously. Shelves lined the walls. Herbs hung from rafters. Jars glimmered faintly in the low light. And on the floor, a shape lay crumpled, breathing shallowly.
“Asher,” I breathed.
He was slumped against the wall, one hand pressed to his side. Blood leaked between his fingers, dark and steady.
He lifted his head and forced out a shaky laugh. “Well. This is embarrassing.”
I rushed to him. “What happened?”
“Someone jumped me,” he gritted out. “Hooded. Fast. Not from our pack.”
My stomach clenched. “Did you see their face?”
“No. But they weren’t here for supplies.” He pointed weakly to the broken drawer beside him. “They were searching for something.”
The thought sent a cold wave through me. Someone had infiltrated the pack house. Someone dangerous enough to take down a warrior like Asher.
I pressed my hands to his wound. “You’re losing too much blood. I need to close this.”
“You should run,” he said. “If they’re still here…”
“I’m not leaving you.”
He blinked at me, surprised. Then he grimaced in pain. “Fine. But do it fast.”
I pulled herbs from the top shelf and worked quickly. My hands moved on instinct, mixing a paste to clot the bleeding. The cut was deep, probably a blade. Not claws. No wolf would attack like that inside another pack’s territory unless they were suicidal.
A blade meant planning.
A blade meant intent.
Asher groaned as I pressed the mixture to his side. “I swear I’m fine. Just… hurting. A lot.”
“Hold still.”
“Bossy,” he muttered weakly. “Xenon won’t like that.”
My throat tightened. “This has nothing to do with him.”
“Right,” he said, even though he clearly didn’t believe me.
I tied the bandage and leaned back to check his breathing. He was stable. For now.
I stood. “I’m going to get help. Don’t move.”
He attempted a salute. “Yes ma’am.”
I stepped into the hallway again.
The air had changed.
Thicker. Heavier. Charged.
A low growl echoed down the corridor, not threatening me, but warning anyone who dared come close. A shadow moved at the far end. Then boots. Heavy footsteps. A presence overwhelming enough to crush the tension in the air.
Alpha Xenon.
He emerged from the darkness like a storm given skin. His eyes were blazing, his aura sharp enough to cut through the silence. Two guards followed behind him, tense, alert, waiting for orders.
Xenon looked at me first.
Then at the blood on my hands.
His jaw tightened. “Are you hurt?”
“No. It’s not my blood.”
His expression darkened further. “Where?”
I pointed behind me. “The supply room.”
He didn’t hesitate. He brushed past me and entered the room. His guards stayed outside, blocking the hallway.
From the doorway I saw Xenon crouch beside Asher, his expression dropping into something dangerous.
“Asher. Who did this?”
Asher swallowed. “Didn’t see his face. He knew where he was going. He wanted something. Something in here.”
Xenon scanned the room with cold precision. His gaze landed on the broken drawer. His shoulders stiffened.
“What was inside?” I asked.
Xenon didn’t answer.
Asher coughed. “He was fast. Strong. Not from here. But he wasn’t trying to kill me.”
Xenon stood slowly. Too slowly.
That was the moment I realized he was thinking. Not reacting.
He already had an idea.
And he hated it.
He turned to the guards. “Double the patrol. No one enters or leaves the healer wing without clearance.”
“Yes Alpha.”
He faced me next. His eyes were darker than I had ever seen them. “Come with me.”
My breath caught. “Why?”
“Because whoever was here saw you. And I’m not taking chances.”
The bond pulsed faintly. My pulse quickened despite my attempts to calm it.
“I’m fine,” I said. “I can stay here.”
“No,” he said, voice low and final. “You can’t.”
His gaze dropped to my hands again. Blood drying on my skin. His jaw flexed like the sight bothered him more than he wanted to admit.
“Wash your hands,” he ordered softly. “Then follow me.”
There was no room for argument. He didn’t shout. He didn’t threaten. But the weight of his voice pulled me forward anyway.
I stepped into the small sink room and turned on the water. As I scrubbed my hands, my thoughts raced.
A stranger entering the healer wing.
A targeted attack.
A drawer broken open.
Xenon’s reaction.
This wasn’t random.
Something was happening in this pack. Something no one talked about. Something people were afraid to even whisper.
I dried my hands and walked back into the hallway.
Xenon waited there, still as stone, his eyes fixed on me.
“Good,” he said quietly. Then he turned and began walking, expecting me to follow.
I did.
The guards fell behind us, their footsteps heavy and echoing in the dead silence of the night.
Xenon didn’t speak as he led me through the pack house. His presence was overwhelming in the narrow hallways. Not threatening. Protective. Tense.
When we reached a restricted corridor, two guards stepped aside immediately.
Xenon opened a door and stood to the side. “Inside.”
I hesitated. “Why are we here?”
He looked down at me, eyes unreadable. “Because someone broke into my pack house, injured one of my warriors, and was searching the room you were standing in.”
A beat.
“And because I don’t trust anyone else to keep you safe.”
My breath hitched.
His voice dropped lower. “Not after tonight.”
I stepped into the room slowly. It wasn’t an office. Not a meeting hall. Not a prison cell.
It was his private wing.
Spacious. Dark. Quiet. And heavy with the scent of the Alpha who lived inside it.
My stomach twisted. “I can’t stay here.”
“You can,” he said. “And you will.”
“Why? I’m not your responsibility.”
He stepped closer. Not enough to touch me. Enough to make the air shift.
“You were targeted,” he said. “Whether by coincidence or not, I won’t risk it.”
I shook my head. “You rejected me.”
The words hung between us. Sharp. Honest. Painful.
He didn’t flinch.
“I did,” he whispered. “But that doesn’t change the fact that you are safer here than anywhere else tonight.”
The silence that followed wasn’t empty. It was thick, full of everything he wasn’t saying.
Everything I didn’t want to hear.
Xenon moved toward the door. “Lock it behind me. I’ll be outside.”
“Where are you going?”
“To find whoever stepped into my territory.”
His eyes were dark fire as he added, “And to make sure they never get close to you again.”
The door closed.
I stood there, heart pounding, surrounded by the scent of the man who rejected me.
A man who now refused to leave me unprotected.
I didn’t know what scared me more.
The danger outside.
Or the way Xenon said “you” like it meant something he wasn’t ready to admit.
