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Word Count: 1861

~Kezi

Something cold on my forehead disturbs me right from my sleep this morning.

I jolt awake, but my arms are tied down, keeping my back flat against the bed. I don't remember going back to bed after being dragged out last night. In fact, it seems like a distant memory stored in the back of my mind. Perhaps it wasn't even real, being a part of the drug symptoms.

Pale green eyes glare down at me, a clinical mask plastered over their mouth. I know it's the woman who bathed me yesterday immediately. And she has lay a damp cloth on my forehead.

I pull on the harnesses holding me down. "What's going on."

"I was checking your vitals," she tells me shortly. I've noticed she avoids talking to me as much as she can. It's always so prompt and to the point. She pulls the cloth off my forehead with her latex gloves. "Your temperature is quite high, but you should be okay now."

She adeptly hooks her fingers around the harness clips, and yanks them off me. "What's with these anyway?"

"For my safety," she mumbles.

I don't say anymore. I'm curious about her, and how she got her job here, but I know for a fact she wouldn't open her mouth to me about it. What I do want to know is if they will be shoving another pill down my throat this morning. I want to refuse right to their face. I want to push my boundaries a little.

However, before I can do so, the door to the room is thrown open, and Sermon walks in, followed by two stocky guards.

Her eyes find mine, and a toxic smile brushes across her face. Compared to yesterday, she looks formally dressed up. She adorns a deep maroon pant suit with a deep V neck, a crystal necklace filling the space between her collarbones. Her hair is pulled tightly back into a small, neat bun.

"Haven't you done so well?" she gushes, the linoleum floor swallowing he sound of her clicking heels as she strolls in. I give her a flat look.

She glances down at her clipboard. "It seems you've done better than we assumed, and your blood is nicely cleansed for the rest of the treatments. And even better, you seemed to have fully recovered in only 24 hours."

I stare at her, not saying a word.

Noticing the intensity of my gaze, she shifts uncomfortably, expecting me to be gracious, or perhaps even thankful. I'm still unsure if I should trust them or not. Either way, it bothers me that she announces everything like it's something we should all be cheering at.

"Well, you may not be in that good of a mood this morning, but I do have some good news," she tells me. She looks genuinely excited too. My interest peaks. "Alpha Alden has decided he wants to put your meeting ahead. He would like to see you right now."

My first reaction is physical. My cheeks flush bright pink.

How am I meant to meet the Alpha now? Why does he even want to see me? I know I was a thorn in his side for quite some time, but would could he possibly want with me? Perhaps now I will get some answers, if he is obliging.

"Come on," Sermon prompts. She ushers a girl over, wearing the same mask and latex gloves as the girl beside me. She holds a pile of blue clothing.

Sliding off my seat, I wander over carefully. "What are these?"

"It's a tracksuit. Less revealing than what you are wearing now," Sermon tells me, handing the outfit to me. Immediately I can tell it's two sizes too big, and unflattering. I am, however, glad for the cover. Being so exposed to these people at all times is making me nervous.

"Change quick. He's waiting," Sermon tells me promptly, before she saunters out the door.

I do so, with pale eyes watching, and the other girl who won't raise her gaze from the floor. She's embarrassed. Me too.

My assumptions about the sizing was correct. It's frumpy, especially at my hips and stomach. It doesn't bother me as much as I thought. My hair is in disarray from what I've been through, and my skin is surely blotchy and shadowed with lack of sleep. An outfit wouldn't improve my situation.

Sermon comes to collect me again once I had dressed.

I was right about what lay outside my room. More rooms just like it. Each closed off, curtains covering the small window at the top. No noise comes out from under the steel doors, leaving what is going on behind up to my imagination. I'm lead into an elevator, with Sermon pressing a button labelled top floor.

Once the elevator lurches to a stop, and the doors glide open, Sermon – with the tips of her fingers digging into my spine – pushes me out into a long foyer.

I'm forced into a leather chair on my own, while Sermon paces and her guards stand post.

What is this place? There are no windows, simply cream coloured walls and a variety of potted plants that flourish underneath bright lights. The carpet underneath my bare feet is covered by a thick white rug that caresses my heels. There are two doors on the far wall. One with a plaque on it that I can't read from where I sit. The other a stranger emerges from.

It's an older man, dressed in a stripped blue suit. He ignores me, simply nodding at Sermon, who motions at me to follow her.

Nervously, I follow her to the door marked with the plaque. It simply reads Alden.

"Good luck," she murmurs in my ear, before she leans over and turns the doorknob for me, and presses my back, forcing me into the room.

Surprisingly, I'm not standing in an office.

Instead, I'm standing in a small room, with dark blue walls, and slate grey carpet. In the middle, are two white leather couches' facing each other, separated only by a low coffee table. One single window is on the far wall, showing off an incredible view of the Wisdom Pack city, misted by low hanging fog.

Sitting on the left couch, is who I assume is Alden. He stands swiftly when I stumble in, approaching me. It gives me enough time to observe him.

I've seen him before on television, so his appearance is no surprise. However, in real life, he so much more intimidating. I never thought that was possible since he has always seemed so clean cut – which he is – and vulnerable to someone of bigger height and stature. Seeing him now makes me realise he is much taller and broader than I imagined, covering whatever lies beneath with long-sleeved tunic and trousers.

The intimidation factor, however, is coming from something a lot more foreign to me. He stares down at me with those familiar navy-blue eyes, face still and impassive. His skin is so immaculate, as each Wisdom Pack member seems to share. His hair even seems shiner than normal, brushed back casually. He seems as though he had just finished relaxing.

He holds out his hand to me, but I don't take it. No after what I went through.

We stare at each other, a battle of wits, before he tucks his hand behind his back. "My apologies. Would you like to sit down?"

I stare at the couch where he motions. I'm stuck on what to say for a moment. I've never been one to speak outright unless I've thought about it, and know what I'm saying. However, I'm struck by the softness of his voice, and the hint of vanilla scent I've noticed since walking in here.

With stiff legs, I oblige his invitation and sit down on the couch opposite to the one he had occupied earlier. He doesn't take his seat right away.

"Would you like something to drink?" he asks coolly.

I shake my head no.

He wanders over to a table tucked in the corner, pouring himself a drink. I watch each move of his suspiciously. What are his intentions? I'm unsure how this meeting will end, but all I know is I want it over right now. People who intimidate me make wary. In Alden's case, it's because I don't know his motive, or what he is capable of. A lot, I hear.

"I hope your first round of treatments went well," he says smoothly, returning back to the couch with a glass in his hand. It's full of water, which he slides over to me. As he does so, I catch another whiff of that strong vanilla scent. "You're looking sallow, you should drink more water."

I have to force myself from not letting my mouth fall agape. His observations are surely correct, although the take me aback with their suddenness.

Still, I don't say anything. I've decided that's the angle I'm going to take. If he wants information from me, I'm not going to open my mouth unless necessary. Avia taught me that. As much as I would like questions from him, I need to seem elusive and immaculate. Turn his own game around on its heels.

I do take a sip of his water. Letting him no I'm not fearing him.

"I apologise about how you were brought here. It was our last option, considering your defiance," he says as he sits, leaning forward in his seat. He's a lot more forward than I thought. He has no reason to beat around the bush with me, one of his subjects.

I take another sip while he talks. "I hope this façade you're putting on will tire soon. I need you to tell me a few things."

I knew it. Him wanting something form me works in my favour. This is my game now. As long as he doesn't turn it around. He's as unpredictable to trust as he is so perfect to look at. It bothers me that such disturbingly perfect beings are produced from this Pack.

"You see, I need to know why Time chose you," he says softly. "And every word he ever said to you."

🌸••🌸

Alden is available around 16 chapters ahead of Wattpad at all times on Radish! If you're interested, head over to my Radish account @Midika (The name is set under Sophie, which is my first name)

Buy the Alpha Series on Amazon now!!

Send in a pic of you to my Snapchat or Instagram to be featured!

Snapchat: Midikacrane
Instagram: Sophie_Midika

🌻••🌻

I now have a new project on Radish which is an extended storyline from Alpha Malik including the characters Fate, Aria and Malik (among others)

Check it out, it's called Aria's Fate! (:

🎀••🎀

My favourite scenes to write are always the first interactions between the two main characters!

~Midika 💜🐼