Defy The Alpha(s)-Chapter 772: Gallery Of Visions

The last Adele remembered, all she had given Mary were cartons of crayons, drawing pencils, and paper to sketch her visions. Certainly not paint. And definitely not the kind that now covered nearly eighty percent of her walls.

But it wasn’t the shock of how Mary had turned her room into an art gallery that rooted Adele to the spot. It was what had been painted. Because someone would pay obscene amounts of money to witness this.

The paintings were thick and vivid, a chaotic, haunting plaster of color pressed directly into the walls. Layers upon layers—reds bleeding into blues, blacks clawing through gold. The strokes were frantic and deliberate all at once, as though the walls themselves had been forced to absorb the visions rather than merely display them. It sent chills down the spine.

For over a minute, neither Adele nor Micah could look away.

The artwork was macabre in its chaos. It told different stories, yet all of them were tangled together, looping endlessly into one another. There was no clear beginning nor end. Just prophecy 𝐟𝗿𝐞𝚎𝚠𝐞𝚋𝕟𝐨𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝕔𝕠𝚖

Adele swallowed, her throat dry, wondering how many days it had taken Mary to do this.

Oh, who was she kidding. She knew exactly how it happened.

Whenever Mary had an episode, she drew like someone possessed. She didn’t pause for a break or sleep. There was no thought of eating or drinking. Not until the drawing was done, exhaustion meant nothing to her.

All of her visions were like a spell, and once they took hold, there was no resisting them.

And from the way the colors had been gouged, layered, and smeared into the wall, Adele knew without a doubt Mary had painted without rest.

"Goddess above..." Micah finally breathed, stepping closer without even realizing he was moving. His eyes were wide, his mouth parted in raw disbelief. "These are visions," he muttered, stating the obvious, his voice hushed as though the walls themselves might hear him.

He stopped before one section of the wall that struck far too close to home.

It was a painting of a mob. Their forms were warped into grotesque mockeries of life, their bodies slumped and twisted in unnatural ways. Mary had rendered them in dark, suffocating colors, shadows layered so thick they seemed to rot into the wall itself. Sunken eye sockets stared back emptily, jaws stretched too wide, and saliva dripping in thick, obscene lines from their mouths.

The zombies.

Micah shivered. The girl had seen them coming.

She had captured the creatures perfectly. An endless, unsatisfying need burned in their eyes, a craving so raw it felt almost alive. The kind that could never be filled, no matter how much flesh it consumed.

Beside them, another mass of figures fled in blind panic. These ones were painted in brighter hues, strokes of golds and pale blues clashing against the darkness. Their limbs blurred as if in motion, faces twisted in terror, mouths open in silent screams.

The contrast was unmistakable.

The undead versus the living.

And then there was one image that eclipsed them all.

A blonde-haired woman stood at the center of the chaos, her arm outstretched, fingers straining toward a child just beyond her reach. Her face was contorted with desperation, and eyes wide with a terror so real it made Micah’s breath hitch. Mary had painted her fear with brutal honesty and the raw emotion radiating from it sent a chill crawling down Micah’s spine.

He had seen countless works of art in his lifetime, but nothing like this. This wasn’t merely a painting but a warning.

Micah didn’t even realize how immersed he had been in the painting until he nearly jumped when Adele tapped his shoulder.

"Hey," Adele said, studying him closely. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Micah breathed, dragging a hand down his face.

God. He was sweating.

Not that anyone could blame him. The longer he stared at the painting, the more it felt as though he’d been pulled straight into it, watching the horror unfold in real time.

"Where’s Mary?" he asked.

"Alice took her," Adele replied. "The girl is a powerful seer, but she can’t control the visions. I was at the hospital when I got the call. She’s been taken to the East Pack to train how to use them."

Micah exhaled slowly. "If that’s the case..." His gaze flicked back to the wall. "Then you can rest assured this was her final warning."

"Oh, I bet," Adele groaned, running a hand through her hair. "If only some of these prophecies made more sense, I’d start charging admission." She sighed. "To think Jameson and the others saw this and didn’t even bother to inform me."

Micah continued scanning the paintings, his expression darkening. "Humans are still numb to spiritual signs," he said quietly. "They probably dismissed it as meaningless art—just the ramblings of a troubled girl..." His voice trailed off, eyes suddenly sharp.

Adele noticed the sudden shift in his demeanor and frowned. "What is it, Micah?"

But Micah didn’t answer. He had already moved past her, walking deeper into the room until he reached the narrow corner where the space bled into her tiny kitchenette.

There, painted directly onto the wall, was another image.

This one was a painting of a room. And an exquisite one at that. Clean lines, dark wood, and expensive furnishings drawn carefully. But Micah stared at it as if it was something special.

Adele followed him, unease crawling up her spine. "What?" she asked, concerned. "What is it?"

He didn’t look away. "Don’t you recognize this room?"

She frowned at the painting. "Recognize what?"

Micah finally turned to her. "Roman Draven’s bedroom."

"What?" Adele blurted, snapping her gaze back to the wall.

Then she froze.

"...You’re right," she said slowly. "I’d recognize that bed anywhere."

The realization made her scalp prickle. She rubbed the back of her neck, confusion settling in. "But why would Mary draw Roman’s room? That’s weird. As far as I know, she and Roman were never romantically—"

She stopped mid-sentence.

"Wait."

Adele leaned closer, squinting at the lower edge of the painting. "Do you see that?"

Micah crouched slightly, following her gaze.

At the very edge of the image, half-swallowed by shadow and layered brushstrokes, were two figures. They were indistinct, cloaked in darkness, and positioned just beyond the doorway as if watching the room rather than occupying it.

A curtain of shadow seemed to veil them, blending them into the painting, but their presence was there.

Adele’s frown deepened. "Are they in Roman’s room or is this a different vision?"

Micah’s eyes lingered on the figures for a long second before he turned to her, his jaw tightening.

"Where is Roman’s beta?"