: Brown-eyed Beta

Hannah

"When do you think she’ll come through?" A female voice asked, sounding concerned. I wondered who it was; I’ve never been shown that kind of concern, with my mother being the only exception.

"I don’t really know. It’s only been a few hours since the surgery. It all depends on her, though. She’s a werewolf, so we shouldn’t be too worried. I don’t know how long she was out there, however," a male voice answered, closer than the other.

"Who would do something like this? They could have killed her," the first voice questioned, concern evident.

"Maybe that was their intention in the first place," the closer voice replied softly, sounding sad. "It’s a miracle they found her in time. If they hadn’t, I don’t think we could have helped her."

"I pray she pulls through. No one deserves to be treated this way, no matter the crime," the woman said.

"Oh, she will. This one’s a fighter," the man assured her.

They continued to talk about other things, but I didn’t pay attention until the first voice suggested leaving.

"Okay, I’ll see you another time. I have a patient to attend to," she said, before leaving.

Footsteps echoed until they slowly faded away.

I cracked my eyes open slowly, wincing at the pain. I closed them again when I tried to lift my arms to block the sunlight, but to no avail—the pain was too much.

The person in the room must have noticed my struggle. "Oh dear, hold on a second." As he said this, I felt the light dim a little behind my closed eyelids.

Once my eyes were fully open, I noticed a man in white hovering over me, his expression frantic as he moved around.

"Denise! Inform the Beta that she’s awake now—hurry!" he ordered.

"You’re finally awake! Thank the goddess."

I lay there as he worked on me, checking my vitals and ticking items off his clipboard before he began speaking to me.

"Hello… hi, dear. My name is Doctor Riley," he introduced himself. I took a look at him, he seemed a bit old, maybe in his early fifties. He was bald and dressed in a white coat.

Ignoring him, I took a subtle glance around me, taking in the room where I was being held.

The walls were striped blue and white, with a few cabinets. Other than those and the bed I lay in, the room was simple. Finally, I looked down at my own body.

The horror filled me and my breathing increased, my heart racing at what I had become as I panicked.

I tried to scream, but no sound came out. All I felt was pain in my throat as I realized the state I was in.

My right leg was bandaged and elevated slightly, as was the rest of my body. I felt the bandages on my head and couldn’t help the tears that began to roll down my cheeks.

I started thrashing around. Why me? Why didn’t I just die? What have I done to deserve this? There was no one to blame other than the moon goddess for creating me into such life.

Everyone else loved a full life, I on the other hand have never felt that before.

The doctor tried to calm me down, but he couldn’t and this bothered him, the little crease on his forehead deepened.

"I need help here!" He called out. Two nurses in blue scrubs rushed in. "Help pin her down before she hurts herself even more," he ordered.

I continued to thrash and move until I had no strength left. The pain intensified, and all I could wish for was death. I couldn’t live like this; I didn’t want to.

The two nurses finally let me go. They lingered for a few moments as if expecting me to start up again. When I didn’t, the doctor excused them, and they exited the room one after the other.

"It’s okay. You’re going to be okay," the doctor tried to reassure me. "You’ll heal, and we’ll get rid of the bandages in no time, alright?" His voice was soft and calm but I couldn't believe him, they should have left me for dead.

I could only stare at him, unable to speak. What’s the point of healing and living when there is nothing left to live for? Especially when I saw the cuffs chaining me to the bed. I must not have noticed them before, too preoccupied with my current state. I pulled at my hands and the cuffs rattled.

"From one prison to another," I thought.

The doctor followed my gaze and then spoke. "Beta’s orders. I’m sorry about them, but he doesn’t want to take any chances, apparently."

There was no end to the constant torture, which made me feel less like a werewolf, though I hardly felt like one anyway.

After a few moments of silence, the doctor began to speak again.

"What’s your name?" he asked, but I didn’t respond. He continued.

"Where are you from? Who did this to you?" He asked a barrage of questions that I ignored.

The doctor sighed, realizing he wasn’t going to get any answers from me, either because I didn’t know how to respond or couldn’t.

He resigned himself to sitting beside me on a stool, going over his clipboard.

I took this moment of silence to recall what had happened. My brothers had beaten me mercilessly, then had my body thrown off the cliff. I should be dead, so why am I not? I continued to think to myself when suddenly, I heard the doctor exclaim.

"Beta Tyrell! You’re finally here." The doctor walked up to the man at the door.

The man, Tyrell, was tall and dark-skinned, with a low-cut hairstyle and a light stubble framing his face. His light brown eyes didn’t need the sun to shine. He was dressed in suit pants and a shirt.

Both he and the doctor whispered in the corner, and I only picked up a few words from their conversation—crying, space, and speaking—which didn’t make sense to me.

The Beta kept glancing at me occasionally as the doctor briefed him, until finally, their conversation ended.

The doctor and the Beta walked further into the room, coming closer to me, scrutinizing me like I was some spectacle on display.

"Who are you, and why are you here?" the Beta asked. His voice was low and threatening. I couldn’t help but shrink into myself, feeling a bit of fear. He reminded me of my time in the Raven's Fall pack.

I was thrown off by this, but he didn’t seem to notice—or probably didn’t care.

His eyes scanned me from head to toe. I tried to speak, but nothing came out, and this probably made him angry at being ignored.

I couldn’t help it as I shook inside, chanting a mantra to myself that he was going to beat me to a pulp, kill me, and throw me out just like my previous pack did.

"I don’t think it’s necessary to get angry, Beta Tyrell. As I said before, I don’t think she’s capable of speech—or maybe she’s just scared. We’ve done a general check-up, but I still don’t know why she can’t speak," the doctor intervened.

Taking a whiff of the air, he remarked, "She’s a werewolf. How come she hasn’t healed yet? Maybe she’s just pretending." The Beta continued as he drew closer to me, his breath fanning across my face. I could smell the sweat on him; he must have rushed in when they informed him I was awake.

"I don’t think someone who sustained such injuries would be pretending, sir," the doctor suggested. "Besides, she’s in unknown territory, she’s bound to be scared."

"You never know the lengths people will go to get what they want," Tyrell muttered, his face close to mine before drawing back. He then asked, "Where are the ones who found her? Bring them to me." His voice was low but filled with authority.

"Yes, Beta," the doctor replied, excusing himself to pass on the order.

I was left alone with the mysterious Beta. Silence stretched between us as he continued to observe me, his expression blank but watchful.

The silence lasted until the doctor returned, bringing two individuals I didn’t recognize. One was a boy, the other a girl; both looked to be around my age.

The boy was lean, with hair that brushed just above his eyes. He was tall, especially compared to the girl beside him.

The girl looked fit, her black hair braided into two sections that fell over her shoulders. She was relatively short, though maybe that was only in comparison to the boy.

The Beta, who hadn’t taken his eyes off me, finally turned to the newcomers and asked, "What happened?"

Both of them snapped to attention when the Beta faced them, and the boy began to speak. "Sir, we were patrolling the border near the river when Dora wanted to take a... short break," he admitted, blushing a little. "I heard her call out for me to come quickly. I went over, and she was pulling someone out of the water." He glanced towards me as he spoke.

"She was badly injured and looked like she’d been in the water for a while. I helped pull her out and checked her pulse; she was still alive, so we decided to bring her in. That was when Shane mind-linked you." The girl, named Cleo, finished.

"What direction was she floating from?" Tyrell asked, his tone still hard.

"From the north, sir," Shane answered. This response seemed to anger Tyrell, which made both Shane and me nervous.

"And what pack lies in the direction of the north?" he asked, his voice dipping lower.

"Uh... that would be the... Raven... Falls... pack," Shane answered nervously, his voice fading as he acknowledged the significance of the direction.

"And what did you do after you brought a stranger onto our pack lands?" Tyrell continued his interrogation.

"We... waited... outside in case we were needed," Cleo murmured, her voice so low I could barely catch it.

Both of them looked dejected, as though they had done something wrong.

"Oh, so you left your post at the border open and vulnerable without requesting a shift change? You brought an unknown stranger onto pack lands who just happened to come from the direction of one of the most ruthless Alphas and our rival pack, and you’re telling me you thought nothing of it?" The Beta listed their mistakes, and I understood now why they looked so ashamed.

"This might have been a plot—a distraction to lure you from your post to enable an invasion of our pack. Do I have to explain this to you?" He was furious.

It was all my fault they were being scolded.

"Get out. Return to your post and stay there until your shift is over. Perhaps you’ll also receive a punishment. Pray there isn’t already an invasion, or I’ll have both of your heads on a spike." He concluded. The two of them quickly scurried away.

After they were gone, Tyrell turned back to me, his eyes now full of suspicion and anger. "Who exactly are you, and what is your plan here? What are you aiming at by coming like this?" He looked pointedly at my wounded body.

I tried to speak, wanting to assure him that this wasn’t a plot or some scheme to invade his pack but rather my own misfortune and fate. Yet, no words came out.

Or perhaps it was a plot, but I wouldn’t know. I’d always been a pawn in other people’s games, and I wouldn’t be surprised if my pack had thought up something like this.

"You’re not going to answer? Well, I suppose a few doses of wolfsbane might do the trick."

"But sir, that could kill her," the doctor interjected.

"Well, that wouldn’t be too bad now, would it?"

6. Fear Of Wolfsbane

: Fear of Wolfsbane

Hannah:

I hadn’t seen Tyrell for almost a week since he last threatened me with one of the deadliest poisons to wolves: wolfsbane.

I was so scared that he might have actually used it. I had to constantly look out for him, just in case. Even though the doctor assured me that he had convinced the alpha to avoid violent means, I still found myself looking over my shoulder every now and then. This was an unknown territory, after all, and I was new here.

It was quiet, save for the beeping sound on the monitor.

Doctor Riley had shown me where the bathroom was, which contained basic necessities I could use, like a toothbrush, toothpaste, scrubs, and the rest.

Every time I freshened up, I was always in a hospital robe. The nurses were a lot of help since I was still wrapped in bandages.

Although I had tried to get them to leave it up to me, they insisted and I didn't know how to feel about that. It was a new feeling having to be served by others.

Today was no different than other days. This has become my routine for the past week. I’d been cooped up here day and night.

The nurse, whose name was Kiera, came in today, dressed in her light blue scrubs and a warm smile on her face. She was the only one who attended to me more frequently.

She always struck up a conversation to check if I was doing any better, if I was in pain, and so on, as part of her routine in changing my bandages.

Since I couldn’t speak, I only nodded and used head gestures.

Today, the doctor accompanied her with a positive attitude and a broad smile.

“How are you feeling today, Hannah?” he asked as he took a seat on the other side of the bed, not obstructing Kiera as she removed the bandages.

I had written my name down the second time the doctor visited. He had brought along a small sheet of paper with a pen; that was the only thing I was willing to write at the moment.

“Oh, right, you don’t speak,” he berated himself, as though he’d forgotten that I hadn’t said a word since they found me.

“Anyway, good news!” Doctor Riley exclaimed. “You’ve been doing pretty well this week, so we’re going to remove the bandages.”

“You’ve healed really fast, which is a good thing, but I still can’t understand why you can’t speak.” He sighed before continuing, “Once I’m done with the final check-ups, you’ll be out of here in no time.”

Kiera had removed the bandages from around my legs and arms, and now she moved on to the one wrapped around my head.

These bandages were a nuisance to me, and I didn’t like them. I was quite happy to hear that I was fully healed, though I still wondered why I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t come up with an answer.

I even asked the doctor on the notepad he’d given me, and he mentioned something about hysterical trauma.

He said that I might still feel pain within me and in my mind, which prevented me from speaking.

I didn’t doubt him much because, deep down, I was still scared—scared that my voice had actually been ripped out by my brothers, scared that if I spoke, I’d be punished or, worse, killed.

Kiera had finished removing all the bandages, which she disposed of in a trash can before excusing herself.

“You’ll be fine, dear,” Doctor Riley assured me as he noticed my distant stare.

I cast my gaze toward my hands, which lay on my thighs. Everything wasn’t going to be fine—maybe for them, but not for me. I felt I would only become a nuisance, someone everyone despised.

I was being held because I was from another pack, locked up, unable to do more than bathe, eat, and sleep, it was only a matter of time before they realized just how useless I had always been.

On the plus side, I’d soon be able to leave this dreaded room. I was tired of the colors and everything, the routine as well, it only made me further sick.

“Mark’s going to bring in your meal,” he said. He waited for some sort of response from me, but I had nothing to say. He realized that as he continued.

“I have a few questions I’d like to ask you before I discharge you, alright?” He handed me his booklet and a pen.

“Who did this to you?” His voice had softened.

As he asked, I remembered Heather and my brothers, and I couldn’t help but fidget in fear, cowering backwards and inching into myself.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, or if it’s too much for you,” he reassured me.

He placed a comforting hand on mine, which was still trembling, but I shrank away.

He withdrew, his hands raised in a gesture of surrender.

“How about easier questions, then? Ones that won’t trigger any...” he trailed off and I couldn't have been more grateful for his understanding.

“What about your parents?” he asked. I slowly scribbled the word dead on the paper and turned it to him.

He hummed before apologizing. “I’m sorry to hear that.” I didn’t mention my adopted mother, but who would care about that anyway?

“Is there anything you can tell me about your former pack, Hannah?” he asked, his eyes full of concern.

I wondered what the Ravens Fall pack had done to him.

I shook my head. I knew nothing about my former pack other than cleaning, being beaten, and running errands. I was pretty sure that wasn’t what he was asking.

“I need you to think again, Hannah. It’s important that you tell me the truth now. Anything at all that you can remember, maybe something Alpha Jax—” He hadn’t finished his sentence before I began to shake again.

That name alone terrified me.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he said, grabbing my hands to try and calm my panic attack, which didn’t help.

It took a few minutes before I finally calmed down.

“I’m sorry. It looks like you’ve gone through a lot to react like this,” he said gently, releasing my hands, casting a sad depressed look with his brows knitted closer to each other.

"But I must warn you, though, these questions must be answered—maybe not now, but if you want to assure me that you are not a threat, then…" he trailed off.

As we sat in silence, there was a knock at the door.

"Ah! Must be Mark with your meal," he exclaimed, his smile returning.

He walked over to the door and opened it.

On the other side of the door was not Mark, but rather the beta of the pack, Beta Tyrell.

"Oh! Beta Tyrell," he exclaimed before continuing, "I wasn’t expecting you this early," he whispered, though I caught it anyway.

The Beta ignored the doctor's surprise at his arrival as he entered the room, and that was when Mark arrived as well.

"Why didn’t you tell me the Beta was here?" Doctor Riley asked Mark, who carried a tray of food into the room. He set it down on the nightstand beside me, then bowed to the Beta before stepping over to Doctor Riley.

"I only just got here. How was I supposed to know?" he countered before exiting the room.

Doctor Riley sighed and looked upon Tyrell with a pleading expression, then looked at me with pity.

It was as if he knew what was about to happen.

Tyrell stood in front of me with a paper and a pen in hand, his face devoid of emotion as he stretched out his hand to pass me the items.

I took the items from his steady hands with my own shaky ones.

Doctor Riley stepped forward and tried to reason with Tyrell once more.

"Sir, I don’t think she’s ready yet. I’ve already asked all the questions; there’s no need for this," he said in a hushed, hurried voice.

"Doctor Riley, stand aside. Who knows if you asked the right questions?" Tyrell replied, his brows drawing closer in annoyance.

"I have asked all the questions, and as a medical professional, I say she is not fit to answer these questions. She has gone through trauma that triggers panic attacks at certain words, phrases, or even names. Don’t do this yet," Doctor Riley insisted, still speaking hurriedly.

An argument was struck between the both of them.

"You are so gullible, Doctor Riley. And what makes you think she’s telling the truth? You take pity on her, which might be exactly what she wants," Tyrell finished coldly, now turning to face the doctor fully.

A chill ran down my spine at such an intense and heated gaze.

They didn’t seem to care that I was right there, hearing every word they exchanged.

I was grateful that the doctor believed me, but he was not the one who ran the pack or held the second-highest authority.

The doctor glanced at me with pity, but also with caution.

"Sir, now you’re questioning my profession," he retorted, turning to face the Beta again.

Tension began to rise in the air.

I was surprised that the doctor would stand up for me like this. Why would he do something like this for someone he barely knew?

Maybe it wasn’t just about me; maybe it was his sense of ethics. Nevertheless, I was grateful.

"Doctor Riley, you are excused. I don’t know what she’s been feeding you all this while, but I’ll be sure to get it out of her," Tyrell said as he turned away from the doctor and walked over to my bedside, where I still lay.

"Leave," Tyrell ordered.

The doctor had no choice but to obey, as Tyrell had issued a command order. I could feel the power in his voice, which made me whimper as well.

Doctor Riley bowed his head before opening the door and leaving.

Once the door closed, silence filled the room. I could only look at my disheveled fingers as I bowed my head.

"I’m not going to ask you anything, but you need to write down everything you know about your pack," he said, gesturing to the notepad he’d given me earlier.

His command voice weighed heavily on me, and I quickly took the pen and started to write everything I knew.

And honestly, what I knew wasn’t much. I wrote about the alpha, how he treated his pack members—basically anything I remembered.

When I gave him back the pad, he looked it over and asked, "Is this a joke? What am I supposed to do with this?"

His expression soured by the second.

He tossed the paper back at me, and I quickly reached for it, scribbling down, That’s all I know. I wasn’t really a core member of the pack.

He picked up the pad, read it once more, and then chuckled before tossing it back onto the bed.

After a short chuckle, his face returned to its usual stoic expression.

"And you expect me to believe you?" he asked.

I didn’t know what else to say at that point. I hadn’t expected him to believe me, anyway.

"Guess what? I don’t," he answered himself.

"Since you’ve decided not to confess, I guess I’ll have to resort to more violent means," he said, taking something out of his pocket. The bright purple liquid in the vial was unmistakable—I knew exactly what it was.

I tried to scream, but nothing came out. I began to thrash and struggle, tears welling up in my eyes as I tried to plead.

It was wolfsbane, one of the deadliest poisons to werewolves. It wouldn’t kill, but it would put one through unimaginable pain, depending on the exposure level.

"Are you willing to tell me the truth now?" he asked.