The Alpha Prisoners Obsession

Chp 2

Zyra POV

The echo of my heels against the polished floor of the academy hallway still rang in my ears as I made my way toward the library. Somehow, it felt less like a destination and more like a refuge, a place where I could momentarily leave the cold scrutiny of the academy behind. Every step I took was careful, deliberate, my hands gripping the straps of my bag as though it were an anchor, a lifeline.

To my surprise, the girl from the courtyard, the one who had warned me about the alphas was walking alongside me. She moved quietly, almost ghostlike, her presence calm but deliberate. She didn’t say much, simply matching my pace, letting me know without words that I wasn’t entirely alone.

Finally, when we were tucked into the quiet sanctuary of the library, away from the hustle of passing students, she spoke. “I’m Arora,” she said softly, adjusting her glasses. Her voice was low, almost hesitant, but there was a quiet strength beneath it. “I thought… you might like some company.”

I nodded, grateful, and for the first time that day, allowed a faint smile to slip past my lips. “Thank you… Arora,” I replied, letting the name linger. There was something comforting about it, simple, solid, like a rock amid the chaos surrounding me.

She glanced around the stacks, then leaned lightly against the edge of a shelf. “I… I’m from a pack,” she admitted quietly. “The Obsidian Pack.” The name rolled off her tongue carefully, as though she had rehearsed it, knowing that packs carried weight, reputation, and danger. I listened intently, intrigued.

“And… you want to be a detective?” I asked, curiosity sharpening my tone.

Her eyes flicked to mine, brightening slightly. “Yes,” she said, voice soft but firm. “I want to work for the police, solve crimes, and find the truth before it’s lost.” She paused, then added, almost shyly, “I want to protect people. Like… really protect them.”

I felt an unexpected warmth. Despite her quiet nature, there was fire beneath the surface, a dedication I recognized. I wanted justice too, in my own way. “I… I’m learning something similar, I suppose,” I confessed, lowering my gaze to my bag for a moment. “I want to be a lawyer and a psychologist. I study the mind, the law… to protect those who need it, to make sure the truth comes out.”

Her lips curved into the faintest smile, hesitant but genuine. “Then… maybe we could work together one day,” I said, feeling an instinctive certainty in my words. “I could understand their minds, you could catch them in action. If you ever need help, Arora… I’ll be there for you.”

Her expression softened, eyes glimmering faintly behind the lenses of her glasses. “I… I’d like that,” she whispered. There was a quiet relief in her voice, the kind that comes when someone finally finds understanding in another.

We wandered the library together, lingering among the shelves, discussing books, cases, and strategies. Arora’s mind was sharp, attentive, noticing details most would overlook. She had the quiet precision of someone destined to unravel mysteries, to see what others missed. I listened, fascinated, eager to learn more about her ambitions, her mind, the spark that made her so different.

Time passed faster than I realized, the warm, quiet environment of the library shielding us from the tension I had felt all day. Eventually, a glance at the clock reminded us both that we needed to return to class. Our schedules didn’t align; our paths would diverge for a while.

“We’ll meet during breaks,” Arora suggested quietly. “Or in art class, it’s common for everyone. That way we can… continue.” She hesitated, then added softly, “I’m glad I met you, Zyra.”

The sincerity in her voice made my chest tighten. “Me too,” I said, smiling, the words feeling heavier than I intended. “We’ll make a good team someday, you’ll see.”

With a nod, we parted ways, heading toward our respective classrooms. My bag felt lighter somehow, my steps a little less cautious, though the underlying tension of the academy never fully left me. Every student here carried potential threat; every glance, every whisper could unravel the careful disguise I had spent months constructing.

I turned into the corridor leading to my classroom, the polished floors reflecting the fading sunlight. My mind replayed the conversation with Arora, the quiet confidence in her voice, the shared dream of justice. It was rare to find someone so focused, so similar in purpose, yet completely different in approach. A small, reluctant smile tugged at my lips.

Then, it happened.

A hand, warm, impossibly strong, clamped around my neck from behind. My body was yanked to the side with a force that sent me colliding against the cold stone wall of an isolated corridor. My breath hitched, panic flooding through me, heart hammering wildly against my chest.

I twisted instinctively, trying to catch a glimpse of my attacker, but the grip was unyielding. My bag straps dug into my shoulders as my backpack threatened to topple. Fear surged, mixing with the adrenaline, each second stretching painfully.

“Who… what—” I gasped, voice trembling despite my efforts to stay composed.

A low, almost imperceptible chuckle, dark and controlled, filled the corridor. The hand didn’t loosen, holding me just enough to warn, to dominate. Warmth radiated from the grip, contrasting sharply with the cold terror twisting my stomach.

“You shouldn’t be wandering alone, Zyra,” the voice whispered, calm but laced with something unnameable: authority, danger, familiarity. My chest tightened at the sound. Recognition shot through me like ice. It can’t be…

“Who are you?!” I demanded, struggling for words, for composure. Fear and frustration warred inside me.

The figure remained silent for a moment, only letting a faint exhale escape. Then, the words came, low, deliberate, almost teasing. “You belong to me now. Not in the way you think, Zyra. But you’re mine to watch. Mine to test.”

My stomach lurched. Panic collided with a strange, involuntary curiosity. The grip on my neck was both suffocating and controlled, a perfect balance of threat and precision. I tried to pull back, but it was no use, the hold was unyielding.

My mind raced, connecting dots too fast, yet too slow to understand fully. The red eyes I had glimpsed that morning in the courtyard, the way he seemed to pierce through the crowd… it had been him. It was him. All along.

I struggled harder, heart pounding, terror and adrenaline intertwining. Every instinct screamed danger, yet there was a perverse pull I couldn’t explain. He was testing me, marking me, and I was caught entirely off guard.

“Let… go of me!” I demanded, voice shaking but firm, trying to summon courage I didn’t feel.

The hand didn’t move. Only the faintest, almost imperceptible smile curved his lips, visible in the dim corridor light. The presence, the power, the control he radiated, it was suffocating, consuming. I realized fully, with a sinking certainty, that my careful plans, my disguise, my hard-earned safety… none of it mattered anymore.

The corridor seemed impossibly narrow, shadows pooling at the edges. I could barely breathe, yet my mind raced, calculating, analyzing. He had found me, singled me out, and nothing could erase the mark he had left just by touching me.

And still, despite the fear, despite the suffocating dominance, there was a pulse of something else, thrill, danger, something exhilarating and terrifying. My life at the academy, the careful steps I had taken to hide and survive, the plans I had made… everything had changed in an instant.

“You… what do you want from me?” I whispered, voice catching in my throat.

He didn’t answer immediately. Only a faint chuckle, dark and controlled, filled the narrow corridor. I knew, without seeing him clearly, that his red eyes were locked onto me, piercing, calculating. This was not just a warning. This was the beginning of a game I could not refuse, a test I could not escape.

The walls of the corridor closed in, shadows swallowing us, the world outside forgotten. My pulse raced, fear, curiosity, and something darker twisting together. He had seen me. He had found me. And whatever game he was about to play… I was already a player, whether I wanted to be or not.

The cold stone pressed against my back, the weight of his presence overwhelming, and I understood fully: there was no running. There was no hiding. And in that moment, suspended between fear and fascination, I realized the academy was no longer a place of learning. It was a battlefield, and I had already stepped onto the front lines.