Married To My Stepbrother Alpha

Chapter 3

Morning light filtered through the heavy velvet curtains, painting soft gold streaks across the floor, but I was already awake. I hadn’t slept a wink all night. Every creak of the old house, every rustle of wind outside, every distant sound had made me jump, my mind replaying the image of Damon standing in the garden, watching me, his silent challenge burned into my memory. I lay there for a long time, staring at the ceiling, my heart still racing from dreams I couldn’t quite remember—dreams of golden eyes, sharp teeth, and a voice whispering you are nothing over and over again.

When I finally dragged myself out of bed, I stood before the tall mirror on the wardrobe, studying my reflection. I looked ordinary. Soft brown hair, pale skin, eyes the color of warm honey—nothing like the striking, intense beauty of the werewolves here. No golden irises, no aura of power, no sign of the wolf that ran in their blood. Just… me. The weak one. The outsider.

I dressed carefully in a simple soft blue dress, pulling my hair back neatly, trying to look as composed and unthreatening as possible. If I wanted to survive here, I had to be invisible. I had to be polite, quiet, and stay far, far away from Damon Blackwood. That was the only plan I had.

A soft knock on the door made me jump. “Elara? Are you awake, sweetheart?” My mother’s voice, warm and gentle, seeped through the wood.

I opened the door quickly, forcing a bright smile onto my face. “Morning, Mom. I’m up.”

She stepped inside, looking fresh and happy, though her eyes searched my face with quiet worry. “You look lovely. Come on, Marcus is waiting for us in the dining hall. He said breakfast is ready, and he wants to show you the grounds today—maybe meet some of the pack members, get you familiar with everything.”

My stomach twisted. Meet more werewolves. More people who would look at me and see only what I wasn’t. But I nodded anyway, swallowing my fear. “Okay. Let’s go.”

We walked together through the winding corridors, the house already alive with soft activity—servants moving quietly, carrying trays or cleaning supplies, bowing their heads respectfully as we passed. The air smelled of freshly baked bread, coffee, and sweet honey, warm and inviting, but every step I took felt heavy, my senses on high alert, waiting for him to appear around every corner.

When we stepped into the dining hall, Marcus stood by the table, smiling broadly. He looked relaxed, powerful, and welcoming, completely different from the embarrassed man of last night.

“Good morning, both of you!” he boomed, pulling out chairs for us. “Sleep well, Elara? I hope the bed was comfortable enough.”

“It was perfect, thank you, Marcus,” I said softly, sitting down.

“Excellent. Eat up—you’ll need your energy. Today I want to show you everything: the gardens, the training grounds, the village at the edge of our land. You are part of this pack now, and everyone should know your face.”

I picked at a slice of toast, my appetite gone, my eyes darting constantly toward the empty seat at the head of the table. Where is he? Is he here? Is he watching again?

As if summoned by my very thoughts, the double doors creaked open.

Every muscle in my body froze.

Damon walked in.

He looked different this morning—more casual, in dark jeans and a tight black shirt that showed off every line of his broad shoulders and strong arms, his dark hair slightly messy, as if he had been running or fighting or shifting already. He looked even more dangerous in the daylight, wilder, sharper, and the second his golden eyes landed on me, the air in the room seemed to drop ten degrees colder.

He didn’t greet anyone. He didn’t even glance at his father or my mother. He walked straight to his seat, sat down slowly, and poured himself a cup of coffee, his movements deliberate, lazy, and full of unspoken threat.

“Morning, son,” Marcus said, his voice cheerful but careful, watching Damon closely. “Sleep well?”

Damon didn’t answer right away. He took a slow sip of coffee, his eyes never leaving mine across the table. “I slept fine,” he said, his voice low and rough, exactly the same tone that had cut me to pieces yesterday. “Though I heard some things go bump in the night. Thought maybe a stray cat had wandered in… but I guess it was just the new guest, pacing around.”

My face burned hot. He knew. He knew I hadn’t slept. He knew I had been scared. And he was enjoying every second of it.

My mother stiffened beside me, her hand resting gently on my arm, a silent warning to stay quiet.

“Damon,” Marcus said, his voice sharp now, a clear warning. “Behave.”

Damon smirked, leaning back in his chair, spreading his arms casually along the backrest, looking entirely unrepentant. “I’m just saying the truth, Father. Strays are always nervous in new places. They don’t know where they belong. They don’t know who’s the master here.”

He leaned forward suddenly, elbows on the table, his golden eyes narrowing, locking onto mine with an intensity that made me want to shrink into my chair and disappear.

“And you should know, little stepsister… in this house, in this land… I am the master. Father might be Alpha now, but one day soon, this pack, this manor, everything… will be mine. And when that happens… the rules will change. And things that don’t belong… will be removed.”

Silence stretched, thick and suffocating. My mother’s grip on my arm tightened. Marcus looked ready to explode, his jaw tight, his eyes flashing with anger, but before he could speak, Damon stood up abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the floor.

“I have training to attend to,” he said coldly, not looking at anyone else. He turned toward the door, but paused halfway, glancing back over his shoulder at me, that cruel smirk still playing on his lips.

“Stay close to Father today, Elara. Stay where you are safe. Because out there… in the woods, on the grounds… not everyone is as patient as I am. Some wolves don’t like outsiders. Some wolves… like to hunt.”

He let the words hang in the air, heavy and terrifying, before he walked out, slamming the doors shut behind him just as he had done the night before.

Marcus let out a long, frustrated breath, rubbing his face with his hands. “I am so sorry. I don’t know what has gotten into him. He has never been this… hostile. This hateful. But I promise you, Elara, I won’t let him hurt you. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

My mother turned to me, her eyes full of worry and sympathy. “Are you alright, sweetheart?”

I nodded slowly, though my hands were shaking under the table, my heart hammering against my ribs. I looked at the closed doors where Damon had vanished, his words echoing in my head again. I am the master. Things that don’t belong will be removed. Some wolves like to hunt.

I had thought yesterday was bad. I had thought his hatred was just about change and tradition. But now I realized… it was far worse.

Damon Blackwood didn’t just dislike me. He wanted me gone. He wanted me out of his home, out of his pack, out of his world. And he wasn’t just going to ignore me or be rude.

He was going to hunt me. He was going to push me, scare me, break me… until I ran away screaming, exactly what he wanted.

I lifted my chin, forcing myself to breathe steadily, to hold back the tears stinging my eyes.

Fine. If war was what he wanted… war was what he would get. I wouldn’t run. I wouldn’t cry. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

I was Elara Vance. And I was going to survive this… no matter what it took.