The Regret of the Alpha
Chapter 3
– Echoes in the Dark
“Hey. Wake up.”
Melodie’s eyes fluttered open. A guard nudged her with his boot.
“You were humming again.”
“I wasn’t,” she rasped.
He snorted. “Well, someone’s playing ghost music. Boss wants it stopped.”
He kicked the straw by her side. “You hiding something?”
Melodie remained silent.
He grunted and walked off.
---
That night, once the dungeon fell silent, she sat up slowly.
Her fingers trembled as she unraveled broom bristles, weaving them into a makeshift whistle.
“It doesn’t have to be perfect,” she whispered. “Just enough to stir a memory.”
She brought it to her lips and blew.
The soft notes floated upward, barely audible.
---
In the Alpha’s chambers, Alexander bolted upright.
He wasn’t dreaming.
That sound—raw, aching—cut through the stone like wind through pine.
“Who’s there?” he growled, reaching for his sword.
But the music faded.
---
Morning.
“Search the cells,” Alexander ordered.
“A flute?” Marcus frowned. “You think someone’s mocking you?”
“I think someone knows something,” he said tightly.
---
The guards returned dragging Melodie by the arms.
“This one had it.” They tossed the straw whistle at his feet.
Alexander picked it up. Examined it.
“Who gave this to you?” he asked.
Melodie raised her eyes. “No one. I made it.”
He hesitated. “Where did you hear the tune?”
“I don’t remember,” she said.
He stared. “You do. Tell me.”
“Why?” she said. “So you can throw me to the wolves again?”
His jaw clenched. “Take her back.”
---
“Do you believe her?” Marcus asked once they were alone.
Alexander didn’t reply. He turned the whistle in his hands.
His fingers found a faint scratch near the mouthpiece.
A mark?
A letter?
No.
A memory.
---
Later that night, Alexander stared at the ceiling.
Chains. Lullabies. A girl’s voice humming through cold.
“Damn it,” he muttered.
He couldn't stop hearing it.
---
In her cell, Melodie curled into the straw, fingers still tingling.
He had held it. Touched the whistle.
It wasn’t enough. Not yet.
But something flickered.
---
“Tomorrow,” she whispered to herself, “I’ll make another.”
---
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