{Third Person}

Back inside his living area, the damage was contained, but the agitation was not.

Alexander paced back and forth. His large frame moved restlessly across the space, claws clicking faintly against the floor as his tail flicked with irritation. 𝕗𝐫𝐞𝕖𝕨𝐞𝗯𝚗𝕠𝘃𝐞𝚕.𝐜𝗼𝚖

Every few seconds, a low growl rumbled from his chest, as though the silence itself offended him.

Jasper stood at a careful distance, watching, calculating.

After a moment, he stepped forward and placed something down on the table. A roasted, dried rabbit.

Alexander stopped. His gaze fell on it. Silence stretched for half a second, then a sharp, furious howl tore through the room.

The sound was loud, raw, and filled with clear displeasure.

Jasper didn’t flinch. "I expected that reaction," he said calmly.

The wolf’s eyes burned brighter, his posture tense as another low growl followed. The insult was obvious.

This was not a hunt. This was not fresh. This was not what his body demanded.

"You are not getting fresh game," Jasper continued, unmoved. "Not in this state."

Another sharp sound escaped Alexander—more aggressive this time. But Jasper’s tone remained steady, but firmer now.

"The scent of blood will only make things worse. You know that."

The wolf turned away, pacing again, faster this time, his agitation rising instead of settling.

Jasper watched him carefully before adding, almost deliberately, "Your Highness... if you do not want to scare Lady Amara, you will have to stop howling like this."

That did it. Alexander stopped mid-step and slowly turned his head. Then, his cold, sharp, dangerous gaze locked onto Jasper.

The mention alone had struck something deeper than the insult of the food.

A low, threatening growl rolled out, heavier this time, more controlled, but far more dangerous.

Jasper held his ground. Unmoved, and unafraid.

The room fell into a tense silence once more, thick with unspoken understanding.

Alexander did not touch the rabbit. He did not sit or even try to calm down.

He simply stood there, his breathing heavy, his control hanging by a thread, and his temper, now, even worse than before.

---

The howl did not stay contained.

It tore through the residence, low at first, then rising into something far more unsettling—raw, strained, and filled with a kind of agitation that made the air itself feel heavier.

Amara froze in her seat. Her fingers tightened instinctively around Ginger as her gaze lifted toward the direction of the sound.

The cup she had been holding moments ago sat forgotten on the table as another howl followed, louder this time, echoing faintly through the walls.

A chill ran down her spine. She had heard this sound before on her first night here.

Her heart began to pound. Before she could call out, hurried footsteps approached.

Mrs. Woods stepped into the room, and for the first time since Amara had known her, the woman looked visibly unsettled. Her composure was still there, but strained.

"My lady," she said quickly, her voice lower than usual, "it would be best if you return to your room and rest for now."

Amara stared at her, unease growing. "What is that sound?" she asked, her voice quieter than she intended.

Another howl followed, sharper this time.

Mrs. Woods hesitated. That alone told Amara that everything was not normal. So, she pressed, her gaze fixed on her, "I asked you something."

Mrs. Woods exhaled softly, as though resigning herself. "...It is His Highness," she admitted at last. "His curse is acting up."

Amara’s heart skipped. For a brief moment, she said nothing. Then instinct took over.

She reached for Ginger, intending to carry her and retreat immediately, but the cat suddenly reacted.

Ginger struggled. Her body tensed, her claws digging slightly into Amara’s sleeve as she twisted, trying to slip free from her hold.

A sharp, distressed sound escaped her as she pushed against Amara’s arms, as though something beyond the walls had caught her attention.

"Ginger—" Amara tightened her hold, startled.

"My lady!" Mrs. Woods stepped forward at once, her tone urgent now. "Do not let her go."

Amara looked at her, confused and alarmed.

"If she gets out of your hold and makes her way to His Highness’s side in this state..." Mrs. Woods shook her head slightly, her expression serious. "That will be the end of it."

The meaning was clear. Amara’s grip tightened immediately.

Ginger continued to struggle for a few seconds more before settling slightly, though her body remained tense, and her ears alert.

Another howl echoed.

Amara didn’t wait any longer. She turned quickly and made her way toward her bedroom, her steps faster than usual.

Once inside, she shut the door behind her and moved straight to the bed, climbing onto it and pulling the duvet over herself, Ginger still held firmly in her arms.

But even under the covers, the sound did not stop, and the howls came again and again.

Each one seemed closer than the last, sinking into her ears and refusing to fade.

Amara squeezed her eyes shut. Then her mind chose this perfect moment to betray her. That same first night here resurfaced without warning.

The darkness. The fear. The suffocating presence beside her. The cold fingers wrapping around her throat, her breath catching, her heart racing, plus the sound tearing from her throat...

Amara’s eyes snapped open the next second. She shook her head quickly, forcing the memory away, tightening her hold on Ginger as though grounding herself in the present.

"This is different," she whispered to herself, though her voice lacked conviction.

Still, she remained curled under the duvet, listening as the distant howls continued to echo through the residence.

—

At the Second Prince’s residence, the atmosphere could not have been more different.

Zarek sat leisurely, one arm resting against the chair as a servant finished pouring his drink. The tension of the previous day had long since left him, replaced by a calm, almost amused mood.

A guard stepped in and bowed. "My Lord."

Zarek did not look up immediately. "Speak."

"His Highness’s curse... is acting up."

Immediately, Zarek’s attention was caught. His fingers paused lightly against the rim of his cup before a slow smile formed on his lips.

"I see."

Then, he leaned back slightly with interest flickering in his eyes. "So, it begins."

The guard remained silent, waiting.

Zarek tapped his finger once against the armrest, thoughtful. Then he chuckled under his breath.

"This is a rare opportunity," he said casually. "It would be a waste not to make use of it."

The guard’s posture straightened slightly. "Your orders, my Lord?"

Zarek’s smile deepened, something darker settling beneath it. "If his curse is acting up, then his control is already hanging by a thread. All he needs... is a little push," he said.

"Use the scent of blood." His gaze turned sharp as he lifted it. "Have someone pass by the Alpha Prince’s residence with a freshly killed animal. Make sure the scent carries."

The guard understood immediately.

Zarek continued, his tone almost light, as though discussing something trivial. "If he catches even a trace of it in that state... he will not sit still." His smile widened slightly.

The guard bowed deeply. "It will be done."

Zarek waved his hand dismissively, already reaching for his drink.

"Let us see how long my dear brother can keep himself contained," he murmured to himself, amusement lacing his voice,

Then, he took a slow sip, his eyes glinting with anticipation. "This should be interesting."