“Alpha Maseno,” with hope that I would be saved from my tormentor brewing in my eyes, I looked at the door, my lips curling upwards for an uncontroble smile as the name escaped my lips.

Alpha Benna's head guard froze, looked behind him, and cussed. Taking advantage of the fact that he was torn between turning to keep an eye on me and whether to believe that Maseno was really there, I dashed from the window, tiptoed to the large table where the television was placed, and squatted.

The table was designed in such a way that you could pull open what looked like painted doors on its side and...