The Alpha Who Wanted Me Dead

A Shadow at Her Side

The stronghold felt emptier without Marco.

Regina hadn't expected his absence to change much—after all, he had never been able to truly protect her. Not from the beatings. Not from the hunger. Not from the weight of the chains she carried every day.

But now that he was gone, the silence in her life felt heavier.

She still woke before dawn, still scrubbed the stone floors until her fingers bled, still moved like a shadow through the hallways, unseen and unnoticed. Yet, everything felt different.

Because for the first time in a long time, she was alone. And she hated it.

"Move faster, girl."

Garrick shoved her forward, his grip rough on her arm. She barely stumbled—she was used to it—but the familiar sting of helplessness crawled up her spine.

"You deaf?" Garrick snarled, yanking harder on Regina's arm, his fingers digging into her skin.

Before Regina could react, another hand, strong and steady, clamped around Garrick's wrist. It was Blue. His grip was unyielding, his demeanor calm, but his icy blue eyes burned with a silent warning.

"Let her go," he said simply, his voice low and even.

Garrick hesitated, his bravado faltering. "She's just a slave," he sneered, trying to mask his uncertainty.

Blue tightened his hold until Garrick winced in pain. "And you are of the same kind. Let. Her. Go."

With a reluctant grunt, Garrick released Regina, rubbing his aching wrist, fury simmering in his eyes as he shot her a glare. He said nothing more as he turned on his heel and stalked off, his footsteps heavy with frustration.

Regina exhaled shakily, her heart still pounding from the confrontation, the adrenaline slowly ebbing away.

Blue turned to her, his expression unreadable but his eyes searching her face. "Are you hurt?" he asked, his voice softer now.

"I'm fine, thank you," she muttered, stepping back, her pride mingling with gratitude.

Days turned into weeks. Blue was always there, a silent sentinel in the shadows, just as the future Alpha had instructed him. He wasn't like Marco though. He didn't sneak her bits of food or offer whispered promises of freedom. He barely spoke at all. But he made certain no one dared lay a hand on her.

When the warriors loomed too close, he appeared like a ghost. When the guards sneered at her, he stood nearby, his presence alone enough to keep them in check.

It should have irritated her. It did irritate her. But it also kept her alive. She just didn't understand why he bothered.

"You shouldn't be here."

Regina looked up from the basket of laundry she was folding, her fingers stained from the rough fabric. Blue stood leaning against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, his blue eyes watching her with that same inscrutable look.

"What do you mean?" she asked, her brows furrowing in confusion.

"You're still sick. Your wounds aren't fully healed," he replied, his gaze flicking to the flush of fever on her cheeks.

She scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. "And? If I rest, I starve. That's how it works here."

Blue's gaze darkened slightly, shadows flitting through his eyes. He said nothing, but she could feel the weight of his disapproval.

"You don't have to do this," Regina muttered, turning her focus back to her work, the repetition a small comfort.

Blue remained silent for a long moment, the air thick with unspoken words. Finally, he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "Just following orders."