Into the Alpha’s Keep Chapter 77: 77

I bit my cheeks, hiding a smile. I raised my lashes to face him.

"Less having another male?" I teased in a whisper.

His pupils dilated, and the gold flickered, lighting up the blue and silver.

"You already know the answer," he hissed, crossing his arms in front of his body. The movement made his muscles tense behind the dark wool sweater. "And I've already made my point with actions. Do you want me to rip the eyes out of every damn male who looks at you with interest, so you understand better?"

"I doubt any of them will get within meters of me with the reputation you have, and that you make sure to maintain."

"I'm just trying to preserve their lives."

"How humble of you, Fenrir."

"What would we be without modesty?"

I blew out a laugh and pulled the last book from the box. Underneath it was another item. I picked up the brand new phone, staring at it, unsure of what to say.

"It's already set up," he said. "My contact is saved, as well as Alexandra's, Mihaela's, Andrei's, and Anton's. Alexandra will teach you how to use it, make calls, send texts... those more urgent things."

"You... you gave me a phone?" I stuttered in a high-pitched voice.

"It was about time you had your own smartphone, Savannah. If you need to talk to me now, I'm just a call away."

I never thought much about phones, although I was curious about them. I knew I would never have one, even when I was married to Hunter. It wasn't common in the packs, especially for females.

"Thank you," I whispered, my voice choking.

He touched my face with the back of his hand.

"I've already said you'll have whatever you want."

I squinted and swallowed everything I was feeling, not letting myself be carried away by the emotion. I felt... shaken by his gesture. And feeling that way was a risk, a mistake that could be immense, unimaginable.

As much as my heart protested, I couldn't trust Fenrir and let myself be carried away by emotions. I saw what he did to Marilyn. She had been his mistress for fifty years, and he discarded her as if she meant nothing. What would he do when he got tired of me or when he realized he wouldn’t gain anything from me?

Unlike before, I no longer had a position or a pack to offer as a bargaining chip. I had nothing, except for myself. And I didn’t know if that was enough or significant.

He leaned in to brush his lips against mine. I dodged, clearing my throat and rubbing my hair.

"I... uh... I'm very grateful for the gifts. I don't even have enough words to thank you, but I need to prepare the pups' snack before they invade this kitchen, starving." I walked aside, increasing the distance between us.

I felt terrible about it, but my heart was worth so much more than a few books and a phone.

A crease appeared on his forehead, and he narrowed his eyes at me, suspicious. For a moment, we stood in silence, staring at each other, absorbed by the weight of the words that were left unsaid.

"I won’t disturb the pups' snack," he said, breaking the oppressive silence that stretched on.

"They'll thank you for that," I joked, breaking the mood.

He didn't smile. It was as if something had changed, as if he were no longer the same male who had entered through that door carrying a box of gifts for me.

He stiffened and looked at me intently. The warmth... that had been in his eyes, gained over the past weeks, whenever he looked at me, had faded. It was as if he had become the same male from before, the same cold, bitter Fenrir I had known.

I ignored the overwhelming pain, pushing it away with all my strength so he wouldn't notice. I gritted my teeth and kept silent.

"Well... I have to go," he announced, and even his tone had changed.

I gasped, deflating like a popped balloon.

I was right. I had been right all along.

He was very good at discarding people as if they meant nothing, as if they had never meant anything.

"Are you okay?" he asked, giving me one last look.

At one moment, he seemed warm like a summer day, and the next, cold like the snow falling outside.

"Yes, I am," I lied, shaking my head with my lips pressed together.

He slipped out of the kitchen without a word, his footsteps fading into the distance, leaving me stranded in the quiet with nothing but the ghosts that gnawed at my mind and the suffocating weight of emotions threatening to pull me under.

It felt like drowning—like the tide of my own feelings was rising, lapping at my chest, ready to swallow me whole if I let my guard slip even for a moment.

I stood there, alone, the air heavy with the echoes of what I couldn’t face.

My hands moved on their own, releasing the phone and books I’d been clutching. They clattered onto the counter, a jarring sound that broke the silence but did nothing to steady me.

I spread both palms flat against the cool, smooth surface, fingers splayed wide, and leaned forward, my torso hunching as if I could physically brace myself against the chaos inside.

My lips parted, and I drew in a long, shaky breath, the air catching in my throat before I forced it out in a slow, ragged exhale.

It didn’t help.

The trembling in my hands wouldn’t stop, a fine quiver that betrayed me, and a thin layer of sweat coated my palms, slick and clammy against the countertop.

The effort it took to shove it all down—to not feel, to pretend I didn’t care—was monumental, a Sisyphean task that drained me to my core. Once, it had been simpler.

Back then, I’d been numb, a hollow shell drifting through the days, untouched by the world’s sharp edges.

That emptiness had been a shield, a cold comfort I’d taken for granted.

But now?

Now every nerve was alight, raw and exposed, and the wall I’d built to keep it all out was crumbling faster than I could reinforce it.

I was a fool—a complete, irredeemable idiot—for letting it get this far, for teetering on the edge of losing myself entirely.

After everything I’d endured, how could I have been so reckless?

How could I have let trust creep back in, slithering past my defenses like it belonged there?

What I’d gone through with Hunter should’ve been lesson enough—his betrayal, his cruelty, the way he’d carved scars into my soul that still ached when I let myself remember.

That alone should’ve hardened me, turned me to stone. And yet here I was, vulnerable again, my heart stupidly reaching for something it had no business wanting.

I’d almost let go, almost surrendered completely, and the realization stung like a slap.

No more.

The solution—for someone as foolishly deluded as me—was clear: celibacy.

A life apart, locked away from the mess of feelings and the inevitable pain they brought. It was the only way to protect what little of myself I had left. The decision settled over me like a vow, firm and unyielding.

I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing my scattered thoughts into some semblance of order, wrestling them into submission.

When I opened them again, a steely resolve had taken root. I wouldn’t let this—whatever this was—affect me any deeper than it already had.

I couldn’t afford to.

My gaze fell to the apple sitting innocently on the counter, its glossy red skin mocking me with its simplicity.

I snatched it up, the weight of it grounding me as I grabbed a knife. With quick, precise movements, I sliced it into thin wedges, the blade biting through the crisp flesh with a satisfying crunch.

But I didn’t stop there. I took each slice and carved it into small, delicate heart shapes, my fingers steady despite the storm still raging inside me.

It was a terrible day to make hearts—too fitting, too cruel an irony. So I took the knife again and cleaved each one in half, splitting them down the middle until they lay before me as broken, jagged pieces. The sight of them, fractured and imperfect, mirrored something in me I didn’t want to name.

I stared at the ruins of the fruit, my chest tight, and for a fleeting moment, I wondered if I’d just carved out a piece of myself instead.