Chapter 88: Chapter 88
The first time I cooked noodles for the psycho Alpha, I had no idea it would change everything.
Back then, I was trembling so hard that I nearly dropped the pot. The Alpha’s quarters were vast and silent, filled with the heavy scent of pine and dominance. Every time I stepped inside, my body tensed like I was walking into a lion’s den. But I was desperate.
I needed him to see me not as another faceless omega, not as someone he could strangle at will, but as a person. As Ellie.
So that morning, I had stood by the small stove, carefully stirring the noodles in boiling water, mixing in spices from the omega’s kitchen red pepper flakes, garlic, and a splash of sesame oil I’d begged Elizabeth for.
The scent alone brought tears to my eyes. It reminded me of my world. Of rainy nights in my apartment after long shifts at the hospital, slurping noodles while half-asleep in front of my laptop. I could almost hear the faint hum of the city again, the car horns, the chatter of people who didn’t have fangs or claws.
Maybe it was foolish, but I hoped if I could make something from my world, something simple, warm, and human maybe I could melt a corner of his frozen heart.
I plated the noodles carefully and placed the bowl on the Alpha’s dining table. The air in the room shifted the moment I heard his footsteps. Oh God, it’s The psycho Alpha His presence always filled the room like a storm. He was tall, broad-shouldered, his golden eyes unreadable as ever. His scent dark cedar and cold rain made my chest tighten with fear.
He stopped in front of the table and stared down at the steaming bowl.
"What is this?" he asked, his voice low and steady.
"N-Noodles, Alpha," I stammered. "It’s... something I made. For you."
He didn’t move for a long time. My hands grew damp as I stood there, waiting for his anger or worse, that cold, amused smirk he always wore before threatening someone.
Then, without a word, he picked up the chopsticks and took a bite. My breath caught.
He didn’t stop after one bite. He kept eating, slow and deliberate, as if testing each flavor. I could see his expression shift slightly barely visible, but enough to make my heart skip.
He finished the entire bowl.
When he finally set the chopsticks down, he didn’t look at me. He simply said, "Make it again tomorrow."
Then he walked away. Just like that. No yelling. No insults. No threats.
It was the first time I’d ever seen him leave the table without breaking something or scaring someone. And that night, for the first time since I woke up in this cruel world, I dared to hope.
From that day on, noodles became part of the Alpha’s routine. Every morning, I woke up early, boiled the water, and prepared them exactly the same spicy, garlicky, and simple.
He never complimented me, but he always ate them.
And when I forgot one morning because I’d overslept from exhaustion, he called me to his study. His tone had been calm, but his eyes burned with silent rage.
"Why weren’t the noodles ready today?"
My heart had dropped. "I—I overslept, Alpha."
His lips twitched slightly, his voice almost a whisper. "Don’t let it happen again."
That was when I realized something terrifying.
He was addicted.
Not just to the taste but to the routine.
The sight of me bringing the noodles every morning. The smell that filled the room. The soft sound of me placing the bowl before him.
He didn’t say it aloud, but I could feel it that strange, quiet attachment forming, one neither of us understood. And maybe just maybe that was my way in. But this morning was different. When I brought the noodles into his study, Lucien was standing by the window, shirtless, his hair still damp from a shower. The early sunlight hit his skin, turning the faint scars across his back into pale silver lines. I froze mid-step. He turned, his golden eyes locking on me.
"You’re early," he said, his tone unreadable.
"I wanted to make sure you had breakfast, Alpha." He didn’t answer. His gaze lingered on the bowl, then on me — longer than usual. My pulse quickened. I could feel the air grow heavier with every second.
"Set it down," he said finally.
I did, my hands trembling slightly.
As I stepped back, his voice came again, quieter this time. "You’re the only one who makes this."
I blinked. "Alpha?"
His eyes flickered, like he hadn’t meant to say that aloud. He sat down and picked up the chopsticks. "It’s... tolerable," he muttered before tasting it.
I almost laughed. Tolerable. That was his version of a compliment.
He didn’t speak again, but I noticed something. Every time I shifted to leave, his gaze followed me. Just slightly — like he didn’t want me too far away.
He finished the bowl again, slower this time, savoring it.
And when he was done, he didn’t dismiss me immediately.
Instead, he said quietly, "You may stay."
My heart skipped. Stay? I didn’t know what that meant — if it was an order, a warning, or something else entirely. But I obeyed, standing silently by the corner of the room while he read his documents. For a while, the only sound was the rustle of paper and his slow breathing. It was strangely peaceful. Until he suddenly spoke.
"You’ve stopped shaking."
My head snapped up. "Alpha?"
"Before," he said, his eyes still fixed on the page. "Every time you entered this room, you trembled. But today, you didn’t."
"I... I’m trying to do better."
He hummed lowly, setting the document aside. Then, finally, he looked at me like really looked. His gaze was calm but searching, like he was trying to read something in my face.
"I don’t like weakness," he said softly. "But I also don’t like losing what’s... useful."
My throat tightened. "Useful, Alpha?"
His lips curved faintly. "Your noodles."
I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. So that was it. I was safe... as long as the noodles kept him calm. As long as I kept feeding the psycho Alpha, maybe he wouldn’t strangle me. But deep down, I felt something twist — something frighteningly human. Maybe the witch was right. Maybe this was the beginning of something far more dangerous than death itself. Because the more he ate my noodles, the more his golden eyes lingered on me and the more I began to forget that I ever wanted to escape.That night, when I returned to the omegas’ quarters, Elizabeth asked
, "How did it go today?"I smiled faintly, my voice trembling. "He ate everything."
Elizabeth looked relieved. "That’s good, Ellie. The Alpha doesn’t eat much from anyone else."
I nodded slowly, but inside, my chest felt heavy. He didn’t just eat. He needed it now. And maybe he was starting to need me. But I couldn’t let myself fall for the illusion. Because I knew — once the Alpha got tired of something, he destroyed it. And if I wasn’t careful, I might be next. Still, as I lay down that night, I couldn’t stop thinking about the way his voice softened when he said I could stay. Maybe, just maybe, this was how it began — not love, not yet — but the first thread that would eventually pull me out of this cursed world. Or wrap tighter around my neck.
Sleep had refused to come the night before; my mind had been full of Alpha Zach’s quiet voice, the sound of him saying I could stay, and the way his golden eyes had lingered on me longer than they ever had. It shouldn’t have made my heart race but it did. Still, I knew better than to trust moments like that. The psycho Alpha could be unpredictable. Gentle one second, terrifying the next. So when I got out of bed, I made a silent vow: don’t get comfortable, Ellie. Just keep surviving.
I slipped into the clean gray uniform of a personal omega and tied my hair into a neat bun. The corridors were silent as I made my way toward the Alpha’s quarters, carrying my basket of fresh noodles, the same way I always did.
The cold morning air brushed against my skin, and the faint scent of pine and smoke drifted through the halls. Everything was too quiet almost unnaturally so.
When I finally reached the heavy door of Lucien’s chambers, I paused for a second to breathe. Then, I pushed it open slowly.
The moment I stepped inside, I froze.bThe room was empty.
No scent of him. No presence. Nothing.bThe bed was neatly made, the window slightly ajar, and the fire in the hearth had gone cold. For someone as meticulous as him, that silence was wrong very wrong.nMy heart began to pound.
"Alpha?" I called softly, just in case he was in another room. "Alpha Lucien?"
No response, only he echo of my own voice came back to me, small and hollow.
I set the basket of noodles on the table and stood still, every instinct screaming that something was off. The uneasiness that crawled through my body wasn’t just fear; it was that same heavy, suffocating energy that always filled the air before he appeared except now it was gone.
It was like he had vanished from the pack entirely.
I took a slow step forward, scanning the room the books neatly stacked on his desk, his coat hanging over the chair, the faint imprint of boots on the carpet. Everything looked normal, yet the emptiness pressed against me like a weight.
"Where did you go..." I murmured under my breath.
The silence answered me back.
My pulse quickened. The psycho Alpha never left without reason, and if he did it was never good. Who is he going to kill now?"
What if something happened to him?
I immediately shook the thought away. Why was I even worrying? This was zach The same man who could silence an entire room with one look. The same man who once ordered a guard flogged because he didn’t like the way the man breathed.