Page 27

The days in the mental facility blurred together, each one indistinguishable from the last. Therapy sessions, medication rounds, and restless nights filled with distant screams became my new routine.

Rachel's words haunted me, replaying in my mind like a broken record.

How could she have known about Dominic's eyes?

I tried to convince myself it was just a coincidence - that she'd picked up on my reaction when she mentioned gold. But the knowing glint in her stare suggested something deeper, something unsettling.

Lacey, my fragile roommate, had transitioned from constant weeping to silent observation.

She spent hours tracing the cracks in the walls with skeletal fingers, humming tuneless melodies that set my teeth on edge.

Sometimes, when she caught me watching, she'd flash a slow, unnerving smile that made the hair on my arms stand up.

"They're coming for you," she whispered one night, her voice disturbingly calm. When I asked who she meant, she simply continued smiling, lost in her own fractured reality.

Visiting hours were a special kind of torture. My father came faithfully every other day, his face growing more haggard with each visit. My mother's absence spoke volumes.

"She's not ready," Dad would mutter, avoiding my eyes. I stopped asking after the third time.

When Amelia visited, her usual vibrant energy seemed muted by the sterile hospital environment. She took one look around the common room - at Rachel giggling to herself in the corner, at Lacey rocking rhythmically in her chair - and her grip on my hand turned vice-like.

"Jesus, Elaine," she breathed, her voice thick with horror. "This place is..." She trailed off, but I understood. I forced a laugh that sounded hollow even to my own ears.

"You get used to it," I lied.

Her expression turned serious. "Dominic's been texting me constantly. He's going out of his mind trying to see you." The mention of his name sent a jolt through me.

"Tell him I'm okay," I said automatically. Amelia raised an eyebrow.

"You're a terrible liar," she pointed out, and for the first time in days, I felt something resembling a genuine smile tug at my lips.

Then, on the seventh day, everything changed.

I was sitting in the common room, absently flipping through a dog-eared magazine, when I felt it - a shift in the air, a sudden tension that rippled through the room.

Patients lifted their heads, conversations died mid-sentence.

Following their gaze, I looked up to see Dominic standing in the doorway, his broad frame filling the space.

He looked different - paler, sharper, like a blade honed to a dangerous edge. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and his jaw was clenched so tightly I could see the muscle jumping. When his piercing blue gaze found me, something primal in my chest stirred to life.

The orderly, a burly man named Greg, cleared his throat. "Elaine? You've got a visitor."

From across the room, Rachel let out a low, knowing chuckle. "Told you," she singsonged. Dominic's head snapped toward her, and for one terrifying second, his eyes flashed gold before returning to blue. Rachel's smirk vanished instantly, her face going pale as she shrank back in her chair.

Greg, oblivious to the exchange, gestured toward the small visitation room. "Thirty minutes," he told Dominic sternly. "And no physical contact."

The moment the door closed behind us, Dominic's carefully maintained control shattered. "What the hell is this place?" he growled, pacing the tiny room like a caged predator. "They've got you locked up with dangerous—"

"Dominic, stop." I reached for his arm, and the second our skin made contact, electricity crackled between us. His scent - pine and rain and something wild - enveloped me, making my head spin. I swayed on my feet, and in an instant, his strong hands were at my waist, steadying me.

His breath came in ragged bursts. "You're not safe here."

I pulled back just enough to meet his gaze. "I'm not safe anywhere."

The truth of my words hung between us. His expression darkened. "Because of me," he stated flatly. I didn't deny it.

For a long moment, we simply stared at each other, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on us. Then, with aching tenderness, Dominic reached up and brushed his thumb over the scar on my shoulder - his mark. A shudder ran through him at the contact.

When he spoke again, his voice was barely above a whisper. "I can get you out."

My breath caught. "What?"

"Tonight," he murmured, leaning close enough that his lips nearly brushed my ear. "Meet me by the fire exit at midnight."

I gaped at him. "Are you insane? They'll call the police—"

"I don't care." His grip on my arms tightened almost painfully. "You're mine, Elaine. And I'm not leaving you here."

The door handle rattled, Greg's voice calling through the wood: "Time's up."

Dominic's eyes burned into mine, golden flecks appearing in the blue as his wolf surged forward. One last, desperate plea.

"Choose."

Then the door opened, and he was gone.

That night, as the facility settled into an uneasy quiet, I lay stiffly in bed, staring at the water-stained ceiling.

Lacey's voice slithered through the darkness. "You're leaving, aren't you?"

I didn't answer. She giggled, the sound sending ice down my spine. "He's not what you think he is."

My pulse spiked. "What do you mean?"

But Lacey simply rolled over, her eerie humming filling the room once more. Outside, a tree branch scraped against the window - the sound unnervingly like claws dragging across glass.

Like something waiting.

Watching.

Hungry.