Ch 7
1187 Words
The gates of Black Claw groaned open at Raven’s command. No one stopped him, not Damien, not Caleb, not Varok, not even Lila. Their wolves still cowered beneath Fenrir’s lingering dominance.
Natalie walked at Raven’s side, though “walked” was generous. Her legs trembled, bruises burning beneath the fabric of her dress. She kept her eyes down, expecting at any moment to be dragged back. But no one dared move.
Raven’s hand rested lightly at her elbow, steadying her when she faltered. He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. His presence was enough.
The waiting car door opened. Raven guided her inside before sliding in after her. The door shut, sealing off Black Claw behind them.
Natalie pressed against the seat, her heart racing. She didn’t dare ask where he was taking her. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know.
Across from her, Raven sat motionless, his golden eyes unreadable. Inside him, Fenrir prowled restlessly. We should not leave her side. She is ours. She belongs where no one can touch her.
Raven didn’t argue, but he didn’t answer either. His gaze remained fixed out the window, his thoughts unreadable even to his own wolf.
⸻
The journey stretched long, carrying them away from the dark forests of Black Claw into open highways lit by moonlight. Natalie drifted in and out of uneasy sleep, waking each time the car slowed, her body still expecting Damien’s hand, Lila’s sneer, Varok’s shove.
But none came.
Instead, when her eyes finally opened wide, the sight that met her was unlike anything she had known.
Raven’s stronghold rose against the night sky like a fortress out of legend. Towers of stone and steel gleamed beneath the moon, floodlights casting long shadows across its walls. Modern cars lined the entrance, but the banners that fluttered above bore the mark of ancient power: the crest of the Alpha King, golden against black.
Natalie’s breath caught. She had never seen anything like it.
The car rolled to a stop before massive gates. Guards straightened at once, bowing as Raven stepped out. Their wolves, even unseen, bent beneath Fenrir’s presence.
“Welcome home, my King,” one murmured.
Raven gave a curt nod before turning back to Natalie. She hesitated, clutching the edge of the seat. For a moment, fear rooted her in place.
His hand extended. Not forceful, not demanding—simply steady. “Come.”
Her fingers trembled as she placed them in his. The warmth of his hand contrasted with the cool night air, grounding her as he helped her out of the car.
⸻
Inside, the stronghold was alive. Wolves moved through wide halls lit by crystal chandeliers, their footsteps hushed when they saw who entered. Dorian, Raven’s Beta, was first to approach. His dark hair was pulled back, his expression calm but sharp.
“Your Majesty,” Dorian said, bowing his head. His wolf, Kael, pressed forward in his eyes, curious but controlled. “You’ve returned.”
Behind him came Marcus, the Gamma. Broad-shouldered, blunt, his wolf Torin glimmered just beneath his skin. He bowed as well, though his eyes flicked briefly to Natalie before returning to Raven.
Whispers followed through the hall. Servants, guards, advisors—they all saw the bruised girl at their King’s side. None spoke aloud, but the question hung heavy: Why her?
Raven ignored the whispers. His voice carried, steady and unyielding. “This girl will remain under my protection. Black Claw abused her. If I turn a blind eye to such cruelty, I am no King at all.”
The hall stilled. His words were law. None dared to challenge them. Backs straightened, heads bowed lower. Whatever questions lingered, they remained behind clenched teeth.
Natalie felt their stares burn into her, but no one stepped forward. No one mocked. No one struck her. For the first time in her life, the silence of wolves was not cruel, but reverent.
⸻
That night, once the castle quieted, Raven summoned his Beta and Gamma to his office.
The room was lined with shelves of old tomes and maps. A fire burned low in the hearth, casting shadows across the desk where Raven stood. Dorian and Marcus entered, bowing before taking their places.
“She’s resting,” Dorian said softly.
Raven nodded once. “Good.”
Marcus shifted his weight, his voice low but steady. “My King… you never act without reason. We trust your judgment. But if you bring a girl from Black Claw into your stronghold, I must ask—do you believe there’s something larger at play? A threat we cannot yet see?”
It wasn’t challenge. It was concern, spoken by a man who had followed him through countless battles.
Raven’s eyes flicked to him, golden in the firelight. “There is no threat in her. The threat lies in what was done to her. I will not allow such chains to exist under my reign.”
Marcus bowed his head. “Then that is enough.”
Silence stretched for a moment before Dorian spoke, his tone quieter, more careful. “You knew the moment you saw her.”
Raven didn’t answer immediately. His hand clenched against the edge of the desk. Fenrir stirred, golden eyes burning. Tell him. He already knows.
“Yes,” Raven said at last. “She is mine. But she does not know. And she is not ready to know.”
Marcus’s head snapped up, but Dorian stilled him with a subtle glance.
“She has been broken,” Raven continued. “Beaten, starved, chained. To tell her now would only frighten her. I will not have her feel trapped by fate. She must grow stronger first. She must see her own worth before she learns she is my mate.”
Fenrir snarled in his mind. We waste time. She belongs to us. Claim her.
Raven closed his eyes briefly. Not yet.
When he opened them again, the firelight caught the steel in his gaze. “This stays between us. No one else can know. Not until she is ready.”
Dorian bowed low. “As you command, my King.”
Marcus, still absorbing the weight of the revelation, lowered his head as well. “Then we will guard her as we guard you.”
⸻
In another wing of the castle, Natalie sat on the edge of a bed far softer than anything she had ever known. The chamber was warm, the linens clean, but unease gnawed at her.
She traced the faint pattern in the quilt with her finger, whispering to herself. “I don’t belong here.”
Her voice was barely audible, swallowed by the silence.
At her door, unseen, Raven stood in the hall. He had come to check on her, to assure himself she was safe. He heard her words, the quiet despair in them.
His hand hovered near the handle, but he didn’t enter. Fenrir growled within him, restless. Go to her. Tell her. Make her understand.
But Raven turned away. His steps echoed softly down the hall.
“Not yet,” he murmured. “She must heal first.”
- Writer
