Alpha Alden ✔️

Chapter Eight

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Word Count: 1711

~Kezziah

The symptoms of the drug set in not long later.

It started with a very irritated tingling where it was applied. And then it seemed to heat up until it started burning. The pain has become so intense, it's hard to keep still. Pacing only helps take my mind off it for a moment, but it always brings me back to that feeling. Like the inky brand is leeching from my skin, crawling out, digging sharps claws into my flesh.

With a stumbling gait, I find myself at the sink. Twisting the taps, nothing comes out. When I wander to the bath, I notice the catch is still wrapped around, keeping me from accessing it.

Those bastards.

After a while of attempting to reach behind myself to itch the constant burn, it finally become so intense, it turned numb, my entire back losing most of its feeling. Someone behind the camera must have seen me calm down, lying back across the seat, because Sermon reentered not long after.

"Up," she prompts, to which I obliged begrudgingly. "We are leaving this room for dinner."

I'm surprised. I've only received two meals while being here, and both were a frothy chicken soup that had no actual chicken pieces in it. Each time, I never left my room to eat. So, this is a new development.

Sermon walks ahead, while two guards trail behind me. We go a different direction to the other day, when we were meeting with Alden in his office. This way only reveals more rooms, each with the curtain drawn across. The ones who have an absence of this hold no one in them. Room for more travelers that Alden will surely capture.

"Where am I eating?" I question, the strange sandal like shoes I had been given with my track suit slapping on the linoleum.

"The cafeteria," Sermon responds.

The cafeteria was quite large. Like any, it had an area to collect our foot, and metal benches scattered around, where many people in uniform sit, eating their dinners. Based upon the smell, I assume everyone is eating some kind of beef based meal. It's all an intimidating sight, as a majority of people glance up from their food, staring at me.

All of them are female. Perhaps the males are sectioned off elsewhere. Instead of wearing a tracksuit like mine, most of the girls wear loose sweaters and leggings. And there is no discrimination. There has to be at least one from every Pack in here.

"Get in line. You'll be escorted back later," Sermon tells me, pushing the small of my back. I wince, feeling the lather of ointment on my brand continue to sting.

With everyone staring, I do so, picking up a tray on my way. I take my place in line behind another girl, much taller and broader than me. She turns.

"You're the new girl, huh?"

I stare blankly at her, unsure of what to say. I'm unsure of what Pack she has come from, her sandy blonde hair, cropped to her shoulders, her eyes a dark brown. Everything about her seems sharp, from her nose, to her cheekbones. She must be a few years older than me, I assume.

"I guess so," I say warily, as we shuffle forward in the line.

"Everyone is staring at you because you met the Alpha," she tells me, taking a plate of steaming lasagna from the cook. "They want to know why."