Chapter 16
1347 Words
Evelyn’s POV
The last thing I remember from last night… was walking into this room.
And then nothing.
No unpacking. No thinking. No fighting it.
I just collapsed.
The second my body hit the bed, it swallowed me whole—like I didn’t exist anymore. Like the exhaustion, the grief, the anger… all of it finally dragged me under.
For a few blissful seconds, I thought maybe—
Maybe this was all a dream.
Maybe I hadn’t left my pack.
Maybe I hadn’t said goodbye.
Maybe I wasn’t ripped away from everything I loved.
But when I opened my eyes—
Gold.
Cold, gleaming gold traced along unfamiliar walls. High ceilings. Silk curtains. A room far too grand… far too empty.
Reality settled in like a weight on my chest.
This wasn’t a dream.
This was my life now.
I forced myself up, my body heavy, my heart heavier. My eyes searched the room for my boxes—something familiar, something mine—but they were gone.
Panic flickered for a second.
I moved quickly, stepping into the massive closet—
And froze.
Everything was already there.
My clothes hung neatly, perfectly arranged. Folded. Organized. Like I had always lived here.
Like I belonged here.
“Damn…” I muttered under my breath. “They work fast.”
Too fast.
Too… controlled.
I turned away, uneasy, and headed into the bathroom. Same thing. Every product I owned—lined up, untouched, waiting.
Like I’d never left.
Like I never had a choice.
A quiet groan slipped past my lips as I stepped into the shower, letting the hot water hit my skin. I stayed there longer than I needed to—hoping it would wash something away.
The ache.
The anger.
The emptiness.
But it didn’t.
It never does.
This wasn’t my routine.
My mornings used to be different.
I’d wake up, shower, and Ben would already be waiting—leaning against the doorframe, impatient, teasing me for taking too long. We’d go on our morning jog, the only thing Father allowed me to do… as long as I wasn’t alone.
And lately… after Father—
My chest tightened.
We started training.
Real training.
Combat. Control. Discipline.
I was just starting to understand it.
And then—
They took everything.
I shut off the water harder than necessary.
Enough.
I got dressed quickly—jeans, a white crop top. Something simple. Something that still felt like me. I found my makeup in the drawers and applied just enough to hide the puffiness in my face, the evidence of everything I refused to show.
My hair fell naturally into long red waves, still damp, still soft.
At least that hadn’t changed.
When I looked in the mirror—
I paused.
For the first time in what felt like forever…
I smiled.
Small. Fragile. But real.
And then—
The smell hit me.
Warm. Sweet. Rich.
Breakfast.
My stomach twisted, reminding me just how little I’d eaten yesterday.
I stepped out of my room—
And stopped.
The Alpha twins were in the kitchen.
Cooking.
Both of them stood there in muscle shirts, their tattooed arms on full display, moving around like they actually knew what they were doing.
“MORNING!” they shouted in perfect sync.
They immediately turned on each other, shoving and smacking like children.
“You know I hate when we do that,” Noah snapped.
I couldn’t help it—I laughed.
A real laugh.
They both looked at me, something flickering in their eyes… surprise? amusement?
“I didn’t take you two for chefs,” I said before I could stop myself.
The Queen walked in right on cue. “Oh good, I’m not the only one. Twenty-six years and I’ve never seen them touch a kitchen.”
“That’s not fair,” Nathan protested. “We cook all the time.”
Noah nodded like that somehow proved his point.
The Queen and I exchanged a look—
And burst out laughing.
The sound felt strange in my chest. Light. Almost… normal.
“Well,” she said, still smiling, “we’ll see about that.”
They finished cooking—pancakes, eggs, bacon, sausage. A full spread.
My eyes landed on the pancakes—
And my chest tightened.
Mira.
I pulled out my phone and snapped a quick picture.
“Where’d you get that?” Noah asked, mouth full.
“Mira gave it to me,” I said softly. “The link won’t work from here… so she wanted a way to stay in touch.”
“Hmm,” Nathan hummed. “So it’s just her number in there?”
I shook my head. “No. Ben and Kaden too.”
The shift was instant.
Their eyes flashed—sharp, wolf-like.
“Why didn’t Father say—”
“I said he couldn’t come,” the King’s voice cut in, calm but firm as he took his seat. “Not that she couldn’t speak to him.”
Silence.
“And if he truly is her mate,” the King continued, eyes on me now, “then that bond should be strengthened. Not broken.”
The Queen sipped her coffee, clearly entertained.
The twins? Not so much.
The King piled his plate high and ate like he hadn’t seen food in days.
“We have a healer arriving shortly,” he said between bites. “He’s coming from India. Very skilled. He can read wolves.”
My stomach dropped.
“We’re hoping he can tell us what’s wrong with yours.”
“And if he can’t?” I asked quietly.
The King didn’t hesitate.
“Then we let her out,” he said.
The room went still.
“And I fight her into submission.”
My breath caught.
Noah slammed his hand on the table. “You can’t be serious. You’ll kill her.”
“She’ll submit,” the King said simply. “I know she will.”
Silence swallowed the room whole.
My heart pounded.
Fight her?
Father had tried.
She never listened.
She never obeyed.
She only wanted one thing—
Blood.
“He’s here,” the King announced suddenly, rising to his feet.
And just like that—
Everything shifted.
I stood, my pulse racing, the twins close behind me as we moved through the halls. Eyes followed us—curious, judging, whispering.
Or maybe… just watching me.
We reached the King’s office.
Inside—
An old man sat waiting.
Small. Fragile-looking. Draped in a blue robe. His hair was pure white, his beard long and thick like something out of another time.
“My King,” he greeted, bowing low.
“No need for that,” the King waved him off.
They exchanged pleasantries—travel, the jet, gratitude.
But I barely heard any of it.
Because his eyes found me.
Sharp.
Knowing.
Curious.
“So,” he said gently, “how may I help you, my King?”
The King stepped aside—and pushed me forward.
“This,” he said, “is why you’ve been summoned.”
The old man studied me.
Up and down.
Slowly.
His brows pulled together.
“I don’t understand…” he murmured. “There is nothing wrong with her.”
The King’s voice lowered.
“It’s not her body.”
A pause.
“It’s what’s inside.”
The healer tilted his head.
“She has a white wolf.”
The reaction was immediate.
The healer gasped—actually gasped.
His eyes widened with something that looked like awe… wonder… reverence.
“Oh… heavens,” he breathed. “What a gift.”
My stomach twisted.
“A gift,” the King repeated darkly, “that came with a price.”
The healer’s expression shifted.
Concern replacing awe.
“Since the moment her wolf surfaced,” the King continued, his voice colder now, “she’s been out of control.”
A beat.
“Violent.”
Another.
“Bloodthirsty.”
Silence stretched between us.
And for the first time—
I felt it.
Not just fear.
Not just anger.
But something deeper.
Something watching.
Waiting.
Listening…
- Writer
